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FIRST CENTURY 

OF 

NATIONAL EXISTENCE; 

THE LTIsTiTED STATES 



THEY WERE AND ARE: 



Tee progressive devklopmext of MTXERAL WKALTH, ixclc:ding not oniy thk precious ant) the uskftl metals, B(n 

Coal, Petroleum, and the various Alkalies and Karths in usk : The PUBLIC UVXDS, their sales in each ts^ar 

Land Grants to Koads, Railroads, State, and Educational Purposes, their rapid settlement, the formation of 

States and Territories, founding of Cities and Commercial Centers : IXTERXAL TRADE ; I>DIKJRATIOX. 

ITS INCREASING TIDE AND TRE REGIONS MOSTLY SOUGHT BY IMMIGRANTS : BANKING, ITS SUCCESSIVE SYSTEM! 

AND changes: Firk, Life, Accidknt, AND other INSURAN'CE, with statistics; LITERATURE and 

ACTHOKS : HOOKS, PERIODICALS, and NEWSPAPERS ; The FINE ARTS, Painting, Sculpture, 

ARCHiTErrciiE, AND ENGRAVING; DOMESTIC LIFE, Dwellings, Furniture, Food, Costumes, 

&c". ; TELEGRAPH; EDUCATION, Higher and Elementary, Libraries, Museums, and 

Scientific Collections : BENEVOLENT and HUMANITARIAN INSTITUTIONS, &c. 



AN APPENDIX, 



The progress of all the RELIGIOUS DENOMINATIONS and SECTS, their prftLUR Doctrines and Ordinances, 
their Forms of Church Government, Mode of Worship. &c.. &c. 

THE whole carefully PREPARED BY 

%n ^mhtJiit Corps of Sc'itntrfic ;tnb |i^itetarn ^fii. 

Superbly illustrated with over Two Hundred and Twenty-Five Engravings, executed by the most accomplished Artists in the Countcy, 
carefully printed from Steel Electrotypes and in Chromo- 



ISold lOiiJ.y T^j'- »«j.l^fc»«2jrii^tloxi. 



^i^hc 



HARTFORD. CONN.: a ' 
FRANWS DKWINr;* & CO., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 

1874. 






EiitenJ, accoi'diug to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, hj- 

L. STEBBINS, 

hi tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washinirton. 



4$l 



SUBJECTS AND AUTHORS. 



MINING INDUSTRY OP THE UNITED STATES, 

Including Gold, Silver, Copper, Lead, Zinc, Iron, Coal, Petroleum, &c., showing the 
Localities, Richness of Ores, Methods of Mining, Smelting, and applying the different 
Minerals to practical uses, with their values, &c., &c. 

FUR TRADE, various kinds and values of Furs. 

Of the late Pennsylvania, and other Geological Surveys; Contributor to Apple- 
ton's " New American Cyclopadia " on the same Subjects. 



LAND, SETTLEMENT, INTERNAL TRADE. 

Western Settlement, Population, and Land Sales, Canals and Railroads, Expenditures, 
Lake Cities, Reciprocity, Annual Sales of Land by the Government, River Cities, 
Atlantic Cities, Date of Settlement, Population, Valuation, Manufactures, Exports, 
Imports, Growth of New York, Express Business. 

BANKS, UNITED STATES MINT, AND INSURANCE. 

Bills of Credit, Government Issues, United Slates Bank, State Banks, Suffolk System. 
Safety Fund, Banks, Free Banks, Number of Banks in Each State, Aggregate Capi- 
tal, Clearing Houses, Private Banking, New National System, &c., Establishmeut 
of Mint, Standard of Coins, Laws Regulating Coinage, Precious Metals in the Coun- 
try, Insurance, — Fire, Marine, Life, Accident, &c. 

EMIGRATION. 

General Migrations. Colonies and United States, Number of Aliens arrived in the 
United States from 1820 to 18i)G, and their Nationalities, Landing in New York, 
Future Homes. 

AUTHORS, BOOKS, NEWSPAPERS, BOOK-BINDING. 
PRINTING PRESSES, TELEGRAPH. 

Writers, — including Theologians, Statesmen, Novelists, Historians, — Short Sketches of 
their Lives, their Literary Productions ; Newspapers, — Dailies, Weeklies, Periodicala, 
Book Trade, Publishing, Jobbing, Retailing, Selling by Subscription, Book-Bind- 
ing, Printing Presses, Telegraph. 

By THOMAS P. KETTELL. 
SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 

Domestic Architecture, Furniture, Food, Dress, Social Culture, &c. 

ByFREDERlCKB PERKINS. 



SUBJECTS AND AUTHORS. 

ARTS OF DESIGN. 

Painters, Sculptors, Engravers, &c. 

By T. ADDISON RICHARDS, Artist, 
Editor of Appleton's " Railway Guide,^' Correspondent of " Harper^» 

Magazine." , 



Progress of all the Religious Denominations, and Sects. 

By Dr. L. P. BROCK ETT. 



EDUCATION, 

Including the History and Statistics of Free Schools, Common Schools, Grammar Schools, 
Academies, Colleges, Professional Schools of Theology, Law, Medicine, War, Teacliing, 
Engineering, Agriculture, Mechanics and Fine Arts ; with Special Schools for Deaf 
Mutes, Blind, Idiots, Juvenile Criminals, and Orphans, and Supplementary Educational 
Agencies and Libraries, Lyceums, Lectures, &c. 

By HENRY BARNARD, LL. D., 

Superintendent of Common Schools in Connecticut and Rhode Island ; Chan- 
cellor of the Stale University of Wisconsin; and Editor of the 
^^^ American Journal of Education." 



ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH, 

Its Inventors, and Progress, 

By GEORGE B. PRESCOTT. 
Electrician of Western Union Telegraph Company. 



FIRE INSURANCE, 

Giving in a historical form the progress and growth of Fire Insurance in the United 
States from the first organized Companies up to 1871, vv'ith valuable tables, showing 
the magnitude of the business, rates, losses, profits, &c., 

By D. A. HEALD, 

Vice-President of the Home Fire Insurance Company of If. Y. 



LIFE INSURANCE, 

Showing the progress of the business under the Stock and Mutual principles, fi-om the 
first organized Company up to 1871, with valuable tables allowing the irameusu 
magnitude of the business, per centage, losses, profits, &c., 

By JACOB L. GREENE, 

Secretary Connecticut Mutual Life Insurance Company, Hartford, Cl. 



CONTENTS 



MINING INDUSTRY. 

PAOE 

Introductory Remarks 17 

Iron Worka in Virginia previous to 1622 17 

First Blast Furnace in 1702 17 

Ikon 18 

First Trial of Anthracite Coal for manufac- 

facturing 18 

Great Britian produces more than half of the 

whole product of the world 19 

Iron produced from 1828 to 1840 20 

Materials employed in the Manufactube. . 20 
Ore in Pennsylvania, llaryland, Tennessee, 

New York, Canada, and Wisconsin 21 

Consumption of Cliarcoal per Ton of Iron. . . 22 

Quantities of Air used in Blast Furnaces 23 

Furnaces in the Lehigh Valley 23 

DlSTRIBLTION OF ORES 24 

Ores in New Jersey 25 

Ores in Pennsylvania 26 

Great Chestnut Hill Ore-bed 27 

Ores in Maryland 28 

Ores in Southern States 28 

Ores in Western States 29 

Iron Mancfacture 32 

Description of Blast Furnaces 32 

■Wrought Iron 36 

puddlixq 31 

List of RoUing MiUs in 1856 40 

Mills making Railroad Iron in 1856 40 

Boiler Plate and Sheet Iron Manufactories in 

1856 41 

Iron Wire 41 

Nails 41 

List of Nail Manufactories in 1856 42 

Steel 43 



Cast Steel 44 

Table of Iron Works in operation ana aban- 
doned in 1856 45 

Production of Pig Iron 46 

Distribution of Furnaces by States 46 

Product of Wrought Iron 46 

Value of the Iron product in 1856 47 

Copper 48 

New Jersey Mines 49 

Tennessee Mines 50 

Lake Superior Mines 51 

Product of the Pittsburgh and Boston Com- 
pany Mines from 1852 to 18G0 53 

Minesota Company 55 

Product of do from 1848 to 1860 56 

Statistics of Lake Superior Mines 57 

Copper Smelting 58 

Useful Applications of Copper 60 

Cost of Smelting Copper 60 

Manufacture of Brass 62 

Gold 63 

Vermont Mines 64 

Virginia do 64 

North Carolina Mines 69 

Georgia do 69 

Pike's Peak do 10 

California do 11 

Australia do 71 

Annual production of Gold in the World at 

the time of its discovery in California. ... 11 
Length and Cost of Artifieial Water-courses in 

California V2 

Quartz Mining 13 

Table of annual productions of the Mines of 

California from 1848 to 1851 13 



PAGE 

Various Mach'nes for Mining purposes ... 74 
Tables sliowing the amoimtof Gold coined by 

the U.S. Government, and where produced 78-9 

The uses of Gold 80 

Lead , 81 

Localilies of Mines 82 

Iowa Mines 81 

Table showing tlie shipments of Lead from 

the Upper Mississippi from 1821 to 1841. 85 
Table shoft-ing the prodnction and importa- 
tion of Lead from 1832 to 1858 87 

Lead Smelting 87 

Useful Applications or Lead 91 

Lead Pipe 91 

Shot and Bnllets. 92 

American process of making Shot, 93 

■White Lead 94 

List of American White Lead Works 9ij 

Zinc 90 

New Jersey Mines 9G 

Penn.sylvania do 97 

Metallurgic Treat-ment and Uses 98 

European Manufacture 10(1 

List of the Silesian Company Works 102 

Schedule of tlio cost of Zinc Ore ou ship- 
board at Antwerp lO:! 

Z;no Paint lO.T 

Description of Manufacture 104 

Platinum 107 

Iridium and Osmium 110 

Mercury 110 

California Mines Ill 

Almaden Mine in Spain Ill 

Total annual production of various Mines. . Ill 

Metallurgic Treatment lit 

Useful Applications of Mercury 114 

Silver 115 

Cobalt 1 1 G 

Nickel 117 

Chrome or Ciiromicm. . . lis 

Manganese 119 

Tin 119 

Coal 120 

Varieties of Coal 121 

Relative value of different kinds of Coal. . . 124 
Geological and GEOORAPniCAL Distribution 

OF Coal 124 

Amount of Availadlb Coal 133 

Extent of Coal Fields in different States 133 

Relative amount of Coal Fields of Europe 

and America 1 34 

Table showing annual amount of Lead pro- 
duced in Pennsylvania and Maryland from 

1820tol8aO 134 



pa(;h 

Transportation of Coal to Market 135 

Table of Railroads and Canals constructed 
for Iransporling Coal 142 

Useful Applications of Coal 146 

Illuminating Gas 147 

List of Gas Co.'s, with amount of Capital,4c. 148 
Process of making Gas 152 

Gas fob Steamboats and Railroad Caes. . . 156 

Hydrocarbon or Coal Oils 156 

Table of Coal Oil Works in the Uuiled States 157 
History and method of manufacture 158 

Petroleum or Sock Oil 163 

Petroleum in the United States 164 

Daily yield of seventy-four Oil Wells 165 

List of Petroleum Refining works 170 

Land Settlement, Internal Trade 169 

Land Sales in Ohio 170 

Canals in the West 172 

First Locomotive built in this Country 174 

Population (iI'Land States in 1830 and in 1860 175 
Detroit and Chicago 177 

River Cities, Atlantic Cities 180 

Statistics of New Orleans 182 

New York, Telegraph, Gold 185 

Comparative E.xports of the Atlantic Cities 187 

Harnden E xpress 188 

Growth of New York 190 

Bulls and Bears 195 

Hotels in New York 197 

BANKS IN THE UNITED STATES. 

Bills of Credit 198 

Congress Issues, $358,465,000 199 

Ten Thousand Dollars for a Cocked Hat . . . 19'9 

First Bank of the United States 201 

One Hundred and Twenty Banks go into ope- 
ration in four years 201 

Tahle of relative growth of Banks 203 

Table of Number of Banks, and Capital. . . 204 

Bauks Located in New York 204 

Alabama with Carolina, do 208 

Clearing House System 209 

Tabic of Capital of all Banks 209 

UNITED STATES MINT. 

Establishment of the Mint, Standard of 

Coin, kc 212 

Value of the Dollar and the Pound Sterling 

in Colonial Paper Money 213 

Alloy of Gold Coin 214 

United States Coinage 214 

California Gold 215 

Weight of Silver Coin 216 



CONTENTS 



xni 



Amount of New Silver Coin 216 

Deposit of Domestic Gold at United States 

Mint and Branches 216 

Amount of Specie in 1821 217 

INSURANCE. 

Fire, Marine, and Life 219 

Number and Capital of New York Companies 222 
Capital, Premiums, and Risks of the Fire Com- 
panies of the United States 223 

Marine Insurance 224 

Life Insurance 225 

Comparative Rates of Domestic Life Insurance 22G 

IMMIGRATION. 

General Migration 228 

Colonies of the United States 228 

Early Immigration 229 

Naturalization Laws 230 

Number of Immigrants for the last forty 
years, with their Birth-places 231 

Europea.v Migration — French and German. 232 

Decrease in Population of Ireland 235 

Allowance on Passage 236 

Saving part of the Passage Money 239 

Landing in New York — Future Homes 240 

Table of Immigration 240 

Location of Immigrants in the United States 242 
Amount of Money received in the United 

States by Immigrants 243 

Amount of Money remitted by Friends in 

aid of Immigration 243 

Number of Natives arriving from abroad . . . 244 

SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 

Introduction 245 

Domestic Architecture 245 

Description of Buildings 246 

Houses South 247 

Introduction of Anthracite Coal 248 

Nott's Stoves 248 

Furniture, Furnishing Goods, &c 249 

China, Glass, Silver Forks, &c 251 

Food, Cooking, &,c 252 

Cooking Stoves 253 

Dress 253 

Social and Mental Culture 259 

BOOKS. 

Book Trade, Publishing, Ac 262 

First Booksellers in .\merica 263 I 

American Bible Society 264 j 



rAQS 

Harper and Brothers, Appletons 264 

Number of Book Publishers in the United 

States 265 

Gift-Book Sales 265 

Sale of Old Books 266 

Subscription Sales 267 

Circulation of Popular Works 267 

School Book Trade 268 

Reprints and American Books 269 

Book Binding 269 

Books of Wood and Metal 272 

Description of Binding 273 

Writers op America 274 

Theologians, Statesmen, Novelists, Histo- 
rians 274 

Early Founders of the Colony Good Wri- 
ters 274 

Works of James Madison 275 

Judge Marshall, Story, Wheaton, John Quincy 

Adams, and others 276 

Cooper, Hawthorne, Willis 279-280 

Prescott and Bancroft 284 

Lady Authors 285 

Printing Press 286 

Franklin's Press 286 

Hoe and Adams Presses 297 

Types 298 

Machines for Casting Types 298 

Stereotype, Electrotype 300 

Newspapers 301 

City Papers 303 

Number of Papers in the United States. . . . 307 

Telegraph — Origin 308 

Morse, House, and Hughes Machines 311 

First Lines 313 

Various Lines and Companies 313 

Penalty for refusing to transmit Messages. . 314 
Comparison between Telegraphs and Couriers 315 

THE ARTS OP DESIGN IN AMERICA. 

Horace Walpole 316 

American Art begins with Benjamin West.. 317 

Stuart, Robert Fulton 318 

Sketches of the Lives of Prominent Painters 

318 to 325 

Sculptors 326 to 328 

Engraving 332 

Dr. Anderson 332 

Copper-Plate Engraving 333 

Americin Bank Note Company 333 

Descriptions of Engraving 334 

Lithography, Daguerreotype, Academies of 
Art, &c 335 



XIV 



CONTENTS 



BDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITU- 
TIONS. 

Development in the Colonial Period 337 

Early Efforts in Virginia 337 

do do in New York 338 

Early Efforts in Colonies of Massachusetts 

and Connecticut 338 

Town Action in belialf of Schools 339 

Colonial Legislation and Action in the 

order of their settlement 341 

Virginia 34 1 

Massachusetts 349 

Rhode Island, Connecticut 344 

New Hampshire 345 

New York 34G 

Maryland 347 

New Jersey, Pennsylvania 348 

Delaware, North Carolina 349 

South Carolina, Georgia 350 

BbsULTS AT THE CLOSE OF OUR COLONIAL HIS- 
TORY 350 

BSVOLtTTlONART AND TRANSITION PERIOD 351 

Opinions and Efforts of Noah Webster, George 
Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jeffer- 
son 352 

Opinions and Efforts of James Madison, John 
Quincy Adams, Benjamin Rush, John Jay, 
De Witt Clinton, Chancellor Kent, Daniel 

Webster 353 

Progress of Common or Elementary Schools 355 

Letter from Noah Webster 355 

do do Heman Humphrey 356 

do do Joseph T. Buckingham 359 

do do Dr. Nott 362 

Recollections of Peter Parley 363 

The Homespun Era of Common Schools, by 

Horace Bushnell. D.D 369 

Letter from William Darlington, M.D,, LL.D. 370 

Schools in Philadelphia 37j 

School Holiday in Georgia 373 

Old Field School or Academy in Virginia. . . 377 
Remarks 380 



PAOB 

What is Education ? 383 

Remarks on the Common School System in 

the United States 334 

Academies, High Schools, &c 388 

Letter of Josiah Quincy 389 

Address of Hon. Edward Everett 391 

Colleges 392 

Professional, Scientific and Special Schools 393 

Theological Schools 393 

Law StuooLs 394 

Medical Schools 394 

Military and Naval Schools 395 

XoRMAL Schools, &c 397 

Schools of Science for Engineers, *c 400 

The Lawrence School 401 

Schools of Agriculture 402 

Commercial Schools 403 

Schools for Mechanics 403 

Fine Arts — Female Education 404 

School-Houses, Apparatus, and Text-Books 406 

Tlie Horn-Book 413 

New England Primer 414 

Webster's Spelling Book 4ie 

Scliool Apparatus 422 

LlDRARIES 423 

Astor Library, Boston City Library 424 

New York Mercantile Library 425 

Table of Libraries in the United States 429 

Lyceums, tec 432 

Institutions for the Instruction of Deaf 

AND Dumb 434 

Rev. Thomas H. Gallaudet 435 

Institutions for the Blind 439 

Institutions for Idiots 440 

Institutions for Education of Orphans 445 

Reformatory Institutions 446 

PMucational Statistics of the United States. . 451 

Table of American Colleges 452 

do Theological Schools 454 

do Law Schools, Medical Schools 455 

do Deaf and Dumb In,stitutiou8 456 

do Blind Institutions 457 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Page. 

1, Frontispiece, 

2, AmericHn Iron Works, 22 

3, Smcltins Pij; Iron 22 

4, Forges ;it Chalons 22 

5, Flattening Machine 22 

6, Chestnut Hill Mine 27 

7, Viewof Baltimore, (Steel Plate) 28 

8, Puddling 32 

9, Casting Pig Iron 32 

10, Blast Furnace 32 

11, Casting Steel Ingots 32 

12, Steam Hammers 40 

13, Forges and Trip Hammer 40 

14, Stone Hammer 51 

15, Hydraulic Mining. . . 65 

16, Tunneling at Table Mountain, Cal 66 

17, Large Rocker 07 

18, Stamps tor Crushing Gold Ores 68 

19, Burke Uocker 74 

20, Yosemite Valley 74 

21, Father of the Forest 74 

22, Gold Mining 74 

23, Prop ects in California 74 

24, ( Ihinese in California 74 

25, Crushing Mill, or Arrastre 75 

26, Scotch Hearth Furnace 88 

27, Apparatus for Working Platinum 108 

28, Viewof New Almaden Quicksilver Mines 113 

29, Map of the Anthricite region. Pa. Mines, 126 

30, Map showing Uifi'erent Strata, in Coal 

Ucgions. Pa 130 

31, Map showing Different Strata in Coal 

Keirjons, Pa 132 

32, Jit. Pisgah Plane. Mauch Chunk, Pa 137 

33, Great Open Quany of the Lehigh 138 

34, Baltimore Company's Mine, Pa 139 

35, Colliery Slope 139 

36, View at Mauch Chunk 139 

37, Descending the Shaft 140 

38, Fire Damp Explosion 140 

39, Inundations 140 

40, Breaking of Props 140 

41 , Undermining Coal 142 

42, Breaking off and Landing 142 

43, Drawing out Coal 142 

44, Fire in the Oil Regions, (Chrorao) 161 

45, Oil Wells 168 

46, Indian Encampment 170 

47, Saw Mills 172 

48, Niagara Falls, (Steel Plate) 175 

49, The Farm 176 

50, Victoria Bridge, (Steel Plate) 178 

51, City Hall, New York 182 

52, New York Stock Exchange 182 

53, Academy of Design, New York 182 

54, Cooper Institute 183 

55, Gov. Stay vesant Mansion 1 84 

56, First-Class Dwelling 184 

57, A. T. Stewart's Residence 184 



58 

59 

60, 

61 

62 

63 

64, 

65 

66 

67 

68, 

69, 

7o, 

71 

72 

73 

74 

75 

"6, 

77, 

78 

79 

80, 

81 

82 

83 

84, 

85, 

86, 

87 

88, 

89 

90, 

91 

92, 

93 

94 

95 

9fi 

97 

98 

99 

100 

101 

102 

103 

104 

105, 

106 

107 

108, 

109 

110, 

111 

112 

113 

114 

115, 

116, 



Paoh. 

View of Broad Street 1 85 

Interior Carpet House 1 90 

Interior of a Dry Goods House 200 

Capitol at Washington, (Steel Plate) .... 200 

U. S. Bank, Pa., (Steel Plate) 206 

Senate Chamber 211 

Coining Room 216 

Adjusting Room 216 

Kire, ( Cliromo) 218 

Buildings on Fire .'. 219 

Amoskeag Fire Engine 224 

Hand Engine without Suction 225 

Hand Engme fore and aft Brakes 225 

Hand Engine Side Brakes 225 

Hook and Ladder 225 

Hose Carriage 225 

Life Insurance Illustrated, Mr. Jones 226 

Mr. Smith 226 

" Mr. Clark.... 226 

City Hall and Park, N. Y., (oteel Plate) 232 

Irish Emigrants 240 

Irishmen in Common Council, NY 240 

Japanese 244 

Wood's Moulding Machine 247 

Old Styles Kurniture 248 

New Styles of Furniture 243 

Kitchen of 1770 252 

" 1(<70 252 

Fashion, 1776 2.i5 

Evening Dress, 1780 255 

Fashion, 1 780 255 

1785 2.55 

Evening Dress, 1795 255 

1797 255 

Fashion, 1800 255 

1805 255 

Children, 1 805 255 

Fashions, 1812 255 

Boys, 1812 255 

Men, 1812 255 

Women l'<15 256 

Men, 1818 256 

Women, 1820 256 

Men, 1825 256 

" 1828 256 

Winter Dress, 1 833 256 

Boys and Giris, 1 833 256 

Men, 1833 256 

Women, 1833 256 

1840 256 

Men, 1844 256 

Women, 18.50 256 

Fashions from 1 850 to 1 860 256 

" " 1868 to 1869 256 

Pleasant Home, (Steel Plate) 260 

Noah Webster, (Steel Plate) 266 

Laying on Gold 272 

Embossing Press 272 

Sawing Machine 273 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Paqe. 

117, Finishing Room 273 

118, Gentlemen Authors 283 

119, Liulr Authors 283 

120, Franklin Statue 286 

121, Franklin Press 289 

122, Washinfrton Press 289 

123, Hand Press, Steam Inking Machine 290 

124, Improved Inking Apparatus 290 

125, Patent Single Cylinder Machine 291 

126, Eight Cylinder Machine 292 

127, Ten Cylinder Machine 293 

1 28, Four Color Machine 294 

1 29, Bed and Platen Power Machine 295 

130, Kailroail Ticket Machine 296 

131 , The Bullock Printing Press 306 

132, Editorial Room 306 

133, Composing Room , 306 

134, Press Room 307 

135, Stereotyping Room 307 

136, Telegraph Apparatus. 315 

137, Gentlemen in Fine Arts 322 

138, Women in Fine Arts 322 

139, Fishing at Newport 330 

140, Country View 330 

14-1, Spring." 331 

142, Summer 331 

143, Fall 331 

1 44, First Map Engraved 332 

145, Map of the Present Day 332 

146, School, Interior of, in 1770 372 

147, " " " 1870 372 

148, Contraband Schools 380 

149, P'ounding of Dartmouth College 392 

1 50, School Houses as they were 406 

151, " " " 406 

152, " " as they are 407 

1 53, Village School House 407 

154, Brown School House, Hartford 407 

155, View of Girard College 408 

156, Packer Collegiate Institute 409 

157, " " " Garden Front.. 410 
1.58, " " " Interior 410 

159, Nonvich Free Academy 411 

160, Chicago City University 412 

161, Horn Book of the 18th Century 413 

162, John Hancock 414 

163, Burning of John Rogers at the Stake 414 

164, In Adam's Fall we sinned all 415 

165, Heaven to F^ind, the Bible Mind 4i5 

166, Christ Crucified, for Sinners died 415 

167, The Deluge Drowned, the Earth Around, 415 

168, Elijah hid, Ijy Ravens fed 415 

169, The Judgment made Felix afraid 415 

170, As Runs the Glass 415 

171, M v Book an d I leart must never part .... 415 

172, Job Feels the Rod 415 

173, Proud Korah's Troop was Swallowed up, 415 

174, Lot flid to Zoar 415 

175, Mo.ses was he who Israel's host led through 

the Sea 415 

176, Noah did view the Old World and New, 415 

177, Young Obadias, David, Josias 415 

178, Peter denied his Lord and cried 415 

179, Queen Esther sues 415 

180, Young Pious Ruth left all for Truth 415 

181, Young Samuel dear, the Lord did fear. . . 415 

182, Young Timothy learnt Sin to fly 415 

183, Vasthi for Pride was set iiside 415 

184, Whales in the Sea 415 

185, Xerxes did die 415 

186, While Youth doth cheer, &c 415 



Page. 

187, Zacheus he did climb the Tree 415 

188, The Boy that Stole Apples 416 

189, Country Maid 417 

190, Cat and Rat 417 

191, Fox and Swallow 418 

192, Fox and Bramble 418 

193, The Partial Judge 418 

294, Bear .and Two Friends 419 

195, Two Dogs 419 

196, Eye, Nose, &c 420 

197, Arm, Hand, &c 420 

198, Eagle's Nest 420 

199, Vertebriiles 420 

200, Articulates 420 

201, Mollusks 420 

202, Radiates 420 

203, Animals of the Seal Kind 420 

204, Birds 421 

205, Flowers 421 

206, Geological Chart 421 

207, School Apparatus as it was 422 

208, School Apparatus as it is 422 

209, Desk and Settee Combined 422 

210, Platform Desk 422 

211, Assistant Teacher's Desk 422 

212, Tinsby 's Globe Time Piece 422 

213, NnmeVal Frame 423 

2 1 4, Eureka Wall Slate 423 

215, School Globe 423 

216, Black Board Support 423 

217, Crayon Holder 423 

218, Assembly School Desks and Settees 423 

219, Boston City Library, pjxterior 425 

220, " " Interior 426 

221, Alphabet, Deaf and Dumb, A 436 

222, " " " B 436 

223, " " " C 436 

224, " " " D 436 

225, " " " E 436 

226, " " " F 436 

227, " " " G 436 

228, " " " H 436 

229, " " " 1 436 

230, " " " J 436 

231, " " " K 4.!6 

232, " " " L 436 

2.33, " " " M 436 

234, " " " N 436 

235, " " " 436 

236, " " " P 436 

236, " " " Q 436 

237, " • " " R 436 

238, " " " S 436 

239, " " " T 436 

240, " " " U 436 

241, " " " V 436 

242, " " " W 436 

243, " •' '■ X 436 

244, " " " Y 436 

245, " " " Z 436 

246, " " " & 436 

247, American Asylum for Deaf and Dumb.. . 437 

248, Pennsylvania Asylum for Blind 440 

249, Asylum for Idiots, Syracuse, N. Y 444 

250, Camp Meeting 

251, Baptism by Immersion, (Steel Plate).. .. 

252, Baptism by Sprinkling. " " .... 

253, South Church, New Britain, Ct 

2.i4, First Church built in Connecticut 

255, Ancient Dutch Church in Albany 

257, Ancient Swedish Church in Philadelphia, 



imiNG INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 

The mineral wealth of the American 
colonies does not appear to have been an 
object of much interest to the early settlers. 
Congregated near the coast, the}' were little 
likely to become acquainted with many of 
the mineral localities, most of which are in 
the interior, in regions long occupied by the 
Indian tribes. The settlers, moreover, prob- 
ably possessed little knowledge of mining, 
and certainly lacked capital which they could 
appropriate in this direction. Some discov- 
eries, however, were made by them very 
soon after their settlement, the earliest of 
which were on the James river, in Virginia. 
Beverlj', in his " History of the Present 
State of Virginia," published in London in 
1705, makes mention of iron works which 
were commenced on Falling Creek, and of 
glass-houses which were about to be con- 
structed at Jamestown just previous to the 
great massacre by the Indians, in 1622. 
This undertaking at Falling Creek is referred 
to by other historians, as by Stith, in his 
"History of Virginia" (1753), p. 279. A 
Captain Nathaniel Butler, it appears, present- 
ed to the king, in 1G23, a very disparaging 
account of the condition of the colony, men- 
tioning, among other matters, that " tlie Iron 
Works were utterly wasted, and the People 
dead ; the Glass Furnaces at a stand, and in 
small Hopes of proceeding." The commit- 
tee of the company, in their reply to this, 
affirm that " great Sums had been expended, 
and infinite Care and Diligence bestowed by 
the Officers and Company for setting forward 
various Commodities and Manufactures ; as 
Iron Works," etc., etc. Salmon, in his 
"Modern History" (1740), vol. iii, pp. 439 
and 468, refers to the statement of Bever- 
ly, mentioning that "an iron work was set 
up on Falling Creek, in James River, where 
they found the iron ore good, and had near 
brought that work to perfection. The iron 
proved reasonably good ; but before they got 
into the body of the mine, the people were 
Vol. II. 2 



cut oflF in that fatal massacre (of March, 
1622), and the project has never been set on 
foot since, until of late ; but it has not had 
its full trial." This author also refers to the 
representations of the Board of Trade to 
the House of Commons, in 1732, as contain- 
ing notices of the iron works in operation in 
New England. From various reports of the 
governor of Massachusetts Bay and other 
officials of this colon}', there appear to have 
been, in 1731, as many as six furnaces and 
nineteen forges for making iron in New Eng- 
land, as also a slitting mill and nail factory- 
connected with it. 

The first blast furnace in the colonies ap- 
pears to have been built in 1702, by Lambert 
Despard, at the outlet of Mattakecset pond, 
in Plymouth County, Massachusetts, and a 
number more were afterward set in operation 
to work the bog ores of that district. Their 
operations are described in the " Collections 
of the Massachusetts Historical Society" for 
1804, by James Thacher, M. D., who was 
himself engaged in the manufacture. In 
Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, 
the same kinds of ore were found and work- 
ed at about the same period. Alexander 
gives the year 1715 as the epoch of blast 
furnaces in Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsyl- 
vania. These enterprises were regarded 
with great disfavor in the mother country. 
In 1719 an act was brought forward in the 
House of Lords, forbidding the erection of 
rolling or slitting mills in the American col- 
onies, and in 1750 this was made a law. 

In Connecticut, Governor Winthrop was 
much interested in investigating the charac- 
ter of the minerals about Haddam and Mid- 
dletown. In 1651 he obtained a license giv- 
ing him almost unlimited privileges for 
working any mines of "lead, copper, or tin, 
or any minerals ; as antimony, vitriol, black 
lead, alum, salt, salt springs, or any other 
the like, * * * to enjoy forever said 
mines, with the lands, woods, timber, and 
water within two or three miles of said 
mines." And in 1661, another special grant 



18 



MINING INDISTRY OF THE UMTED STATES. 



■was made to him of any mines he might 
discover in the neighborhood of Middletown. 
It does not appear, however, that he derived 
any special advantage from these privileges, 
although he used to make frequent excur- 
sions to the different localities of minerals, 
especially to the Governor's Ring, a moun- 
tain in the north-west corner of East Had- 
dam, and spend three weeks at a time there 
with his servant, engaged, as told by Gover- 
nor Trumbull to President Styles, and record- 
ed in his diary, in " roasting ores, assaying 
metals, and casting gold rings." John Win- 
throp, F.R.S., iirandson of Governor Win- 
throp, was evidently well acquainted with 
many localities of different ores in Connecti- 
cut, and sent to the Royal Society a consid- 
erable collection of specimens he had made. 
It is supposed that among them Ilatchett 
found the mineral colunibite, and detected 
the new metal which he natned cohimbium. 
At Middletown, an argentiferous lead mine 
was worked, it is supposed, at this period, by 
the Winthrops, and the men employed were 
evidently skilful miners. When the mine 
was reopened in 1852, shafts were found 
well timbered and in good preservation, that 
had been sunk to the depth of 120 feet, and, 
with the other workings, amounted in all to 
1,500 feet of excavation. The oldest Ameri- 
can charter for a mining company was grant- 
ed in 1709, for working the copper ores at 
Simsbury, Connecticut. Operations were 
carried on here for a number of years, the 
ore raised being shipped to England, and a 
similar mining enterprise was undertaken in 
1719, at Belleville, in New Jersey, about six 
miles from Jersey City. The products of 
the so-called Schuyler mine at this place 
amounted, before the year 1731, to 1,386 
tons of ore, all of which were shipped to 
England. At this period (1732) the Gap 
mine, in Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, 
was first opened and worked for copper, and 
about the middle of the century various 
other copper mines were opened in New 
Jersey ; also, the lead mine at Southamp- 
ton, Mass., and the cobalt mine at Chatham, 
Conn. In 1754 a lead mine was success- 
fully worked in Wythe county, in south- 
western Virginia, and this is still productive. 
It is probable that, by reason of the higher 
value of copper at that period, and the lower 
price paid for labor than at present, some of 
the copper mines may have proved profit- 
able to work, though it is certain this has 
not been the case with them of late years. 



The existence of copper in the region about 
Lake Superior was known, from the reports 
of the Jesuit missionaries, in 16G0, and one 
or two unsuccessful attempts were made to 
work it during the last century by parties of 
Englishmen. The lead mines of the upper 
Mississippi, discovered by Le Sueur in his ex- 
ploring voyage up the river in 1700 and 
1701, were first worked by Dubuque, a 
French miner, in 1788, upon the tract of 
land now occupied by the city in Iowa bear- 
ing his name. 

Such, in general, was the extent to which 
this branch of industry had been carried up 
to the close of the last century. The only 
coal mines worked were some on the James 
river, twelve miles above Richmond, and the 
capacit}' of these for adding to the wealth 
of the country was not by any means appre- 
ciated. The gold mines were entirely un- 
known, and the dependence of the country 
upon Great Britain for the supply of iron 
bad so checked the development of this 
branch of manufacture, that comparatively 
nothing was known of our own resources in 
the mines of this metal. The most impor- 
tant establishments for its manufacture were 
small blast furnaces, working bog ores, and 
the bloomaries of New York and New Jer- 
sey, making bar iron direct from the rich 
magnetic ores. 

The progress of the United States in these 
branches will be traced in the succeeding 
chapters, one of which will be devoted to 
each of the principal metals. 



CHAPTER I. 

IRON. 

The early history of the iron manufacture 
in the American colonies has been noticed 
in the introductory remarks which precede 
this chapter. Since the year 1750 the re- 
strictions imposed upon the business by the 
mother country had limited tlie operations to 
the production of pig iron and castings, and 
a few blast furnaces were employed in New 
England and the middle Atlantic states. A '^ 
considerable portion of the pig iron was ex- ; 
ported to Great Britain, where it was admit- 
ted free of duty, and articles of wrought ; 
iron and steel were returned from that coun- ! 
try. In 1771 the shipment of pig iron from 
the colonies amounted to 7,525 tons. By 
the sudden cessation of eommercial relations 



19 



on the breaking out of the war, the country 
was thrown upon its own resources, but was 
illy prepared to meet the now and extraor- 
dinary demands for iron. The skill, experi- 
ence, and capital for this business were all 
alike wanting, and even the casting of can- 
non was an undertaking that few of the fur- 
nace masters were prepared to venture upon. 
The bog ores found in Plymouth county, 
Mass., together with supplies from New Jer- 
sey, sustained ten furnaces ; and in Bridge- 
water, cannon were successfully cast and bored 
by lion. Hugh Orr, for the supply of the 
army. They were also made at Westville, 
Conn., by Mr. Elijah Bachus, who welded 
together bars of iron for the purpose. The 
Continental Congress, also, was forced to 
establish and carry on works for furnishing 
iron and steel, and in the northern part of 
New Jersey, the highlands of New York, and 
the valley of the Housatonic in Connecticut, 
they found abundance of rich ores, and forests 
of the best wood for the charcoal required 
in the manufacture. At their armory at Car- 
lisle, Pa., the first trials of anthracite for manu- 
facturing purposes were made in 1775. But 
the condition of the country was little favor- 
able for the development of this branch of 
industry, and after the war, without capital, 
a currency, or facilities of transportation, the 
iron business long continued of little more 
than local importance. The chief supplies 
were again furnished from the iron works of 
Great Britain, the establishment of which 
had in great part been owing to the restric- 
tions placed upon the development of our 
own resources; and while that country con- 
tinued to protect their own interest by pro- 
hibitor}' duties that for a long period exclu- 
ded all foreign competition, the iron inter- 
est of the United States languished under a 
policy that fostered rather the carrying trade 
between the two countries than the building 
up of highly important manufactories, and 
the establishment around them of perma- 
nent agricultural settlements through the 
home market they should secure. Hence it 
was that the manufacture in Great Britain 
was rapidly accelerated, improved by new 
inventions, strengthened by accumulated 
capital, and sustained by the use of mineral 
coal for fuel, almost a century before we had 
learned in the discouraging condition of the 
art, that this cheap fuel, mines of which 
were worked near Richmond in Virginia, 
before 1790, could be advantageously em- 
ployed in the manufacture. The natural ad- 



vantages possessed by Great Britain power- 
fully co-operated with her wise legislation ; 
and as her rich deposits of iron ore and coal 
were developed in close juxtaposition, and 
in localities not far removed from the coast, 
the iron interest became so firmly established 
that no nation accessible to her ships could 
successfully engage in the same pursuit, until, 
by following the example set by Great Britain, 
its own mines and resources might be in like 
manner developed. Thus encouraged and 
supported, the iron interest of Great Britain 
has prospered at the expense of that of all 
other nations, till her annual production 
amounts to more than one-half of the seven 
millions or eight millions of tons produced 
throughout the world ; and the products of 
her mines and furnaces have, until quite re- 
cently, been better known, even in the ex- 
treme western states, where the cost of 
" Scotch pig iron " has been more than 
doubled by the transportation, than has that 
of the rich ores of these very states. And 
thus it ij the annual production of the Uni- 
ted States has only recently readied 2,000,- 
000 tons, notwithstanding the abundance 
and richness of her mines, both of iron ores 
and of coal, and the immense demands of 
iron for her own consumption. So great are 
the advantages she possesses in the quality 
of these essential materials in the production 
of iron, that according to the statement of 
an able writer upon this subject, who is him- 
self largely engaged in the manufacture, less 
than half the quantity of raw materials is 
required in this country to the ton of iron, 
that is required in Great Britain, " thus 
economizing labor to an enormous extent. 
In point of fact, the materials for making a 
ton of iron can be laid down in the United 
States at the furnace with less expenditure 
of human labor than in any part of the 
known world, with the possible exception of 
Scotland." (''On the Statistics and Geog- 
raphy of the Production of Iron," by Abram 
S. Hewitt, N. Y., 1856, p. 20). The tables 
presented by this writer, of the annual pro- 
duction, show striking vicissitudes in the 
trade, which is to be accounted for chiefly 
by the fluctuations in prices in the English 
m.arket depressing or encouraging our own 
manufacture, and by the frequent changes in 
our tariff. 

"In 1810 the production of iron, en- 
tirely charcoal, was 54,000 tons. In 1820, 
in consequence of the commercial ruin which 
swept over the country just before, the busi' 



20 



MINING INDUSTRY OP THE UNITED STATES. 



ness was in a state of comparative ruin, and 
not over 20,000 tons were produced. 

In 1828 the product was 130,000 tons. 
" 1829 " " " 142,000 " 

" 1830 " '• " 165,000 " 

" 1831 " " " 191,000 " 

" 1832 " " " 200,000 " 

" 1840 " " " 347,000 " 

" 1842 " " " 2ir),000 " 

" \?43 " " " 486,000 " 

" I84G " " " 705,000 " 

" 1847 " " " 800,000 " 

" 1852 " " " 5G4,000 " 

" 1854 " " " 7IG,C74 " 

" 1855 " " " 754,178 " 

'■ 185G " " " 874,423 " 

" 1857 " " " 798,157 " 

" 1858 " " " 705,094 " 

" 1859 " " " 8<40,427 " 

" 18C0 " " " 913,774 " 

" 18G1 " " " 731,564 " 

" 18G2 " " " 787,662 " 

" 18C3 " " " 947,604 " 

" 1864 " " "1,135,497 " 

" 1805 " " " 931,532 " 

" IS;;G " " "1,350,943 " 

" 18fi7 " " "1,461,626 " 

" 1808 " " "1,103,500 " 

" 1SG9 ■' " "1,910,641 " 

" 1870 " " " 2.000.000 " 

There was a protective duty on iron from 
1P2J to 1837, but none from 1837 to I8J3. 
From 18-13 to 1848 there was protection, 
but none from 1848 to 1803. The high 
prot'Ctive duty was modified in 18G(), and 
since that time the proteciion has been more 
and more inoderiite as the |)reniium on gold 
declined. The laritF of 1870 reduced the 
duty from nine to seven dollars per ton on 
pig iron, and from eight to six dollars per 
ton on scrap iron. 

Until the year 1840, charcoal had been the 
only fuel used in the maiuifacture of iron ; 
and wliilo it produced a metal far superior 
in quality to that made with coke, the great 
demands of the trade were for cheap irons, 
and the market was chiefly supplied with 
these from Great Britain. The introduction 
of anthracite for smelting iron ores in 1840 
marked a new era in the manufacture, though 
its influence was not sensibly felt for several 
years* 

MATERIALS EMPLOYED IN THE MANUFACTURE. 

Before attempting to exliibit the resources 
of the United States for making iron, and 
the methods of conducting the manufacture, 
it is well to give some account of the mate- 
rials employed, and explain the conditions 
upon which this manufacture depends. Three 
elements are essential in the great brancli of 
the business — that of producing pig iron, 



viz : ores, fuel to reduce tlicm, and a suit- 
able flux to aid the process by melting with 
and removing tlic eartliy impurities of the 
ore in a freely flowing, glassy cinder. The 
flux is usually limestone, and by a wise pro- 
vision, evidently in view of the uses to 
wliich this would be applied, limestone is 
almost universally found conveniently near 
to iron ores ; so also are stores of fuel com- 
mensurate witli tlie abundance of the ores. 

The principal ores are hematites, magnetic 
and specular ores, the red oxides of the sec- 
ondary rocks, and tlic carbonates. Probably 
more than three-quarters of the iron made 
in the United States is from the first three 
varieties named, and a much larger propor- 
tion of tlie English iron is from the last — 
from tlie magnetic and specular ores none. 
Hematites, wherever known, are favorite ores. 
They are met with in great irregular-sliaped 
deposits (apparently derived from other 
forms in which the iron was distributed), in- 
termixed with ochres, clays, and sands, some- 
times in scattered lumps and blocks, and 
sometimes in massive ledges ; they also 
occur in beds inter.stiatificd among the mica 
slates. Although the deposits arc regarded 
as of limited capacity, they are often worked 
to the depth of more than 100 feet; in one 
instance in Berks county, Penn., to 105 feet; 
and when abandoned, as they sometimes are, 
it is questionable whctlier this is not ratlier 
owing to the increased expenses incurred in 
continuing tlie enormous excavations at such 
depths, than from failure of the ore. Mines 
of hematite have proved the most valuable 
mines in the United States. At Salisbury, 
in Connecticut, they have been worked 
almost uninterruptedly for more than 100 
years, supplying the means for supporting 
an active industry in the country around, 
and enriching generation after generation of 
proprietors. The great group of mines at 
Chestnut Hill, in Columbia county, Penn., 
and others in Berks and Lehigh counties in 
the same state, are of similar character. 

The ore is a hydrated peroxide of iron, 
consisting of from 1'2 to 85 percent, of per- 
oxide of iron (which corresponds to about 
50 to GO per cent, of iron), and from 10 to 
14 per cent, of water. Silica and alumina, 
phosphoric acid, and peroxide of manganese 
are one or more present in very small quanti- 
ties ; but the impurities are rarely such as to 
interfere witli the production of very excel- 
lent iron, either for foundry or forge pur- 
poses — that is, for castings or bar iron. It is 



21 



easily and cheaply mined, and works easily 
in the blast furnace. On account of its de- 
ficiency in silica it is necessary to use a lime- 
stone containing this ingredient, that the 
elements of a glassy cinder may be provided, 
whicli is the first requisite in smelting iron ; 
or the same end may be more advantageously 
attained by adding a portion of magnetic 
ore, which is almost always mixed with 
silica in the form of quartz ; and these two 
ores are consequently very generally worked 
together — the hematites making two-thirds 
or three-quarters of the charge, and the mag- 
netic ores the remainder. 

Magnetic ore is the richest possible com- 
bination of iron, the proportion of which 
cannot exceed '72.4 per cent., combined with 
37.6 per cent of oxygen. It is a heavy, 
black ore, compact or in coarse crystalline 
grains, and commonly mixed with quartz 
and other minerals. It atfects the magnetic 
needle, and pieces of it often support small 
bits of iron, as nails. Such ore is the load- 
stone. It is obtained of various qualities ; 
some sorts work with great difficulty in the 
blast furnace, and others are more easily 
managed and make excellent iron for any 
use ; but all do better mixed with hematite. 
The magnetic ores have been largely em- 
ployed in the ancient processes of making 
malleable iron direct from the ore in the 
open forge, the Catalan forge, etc., and at 
the present time they are so used in the 
bloomary fires. They are found in inex- 
haustible beds of all dimensions lying among 
the micaceous slates and gneiss rocks. These 
beds are sometimes so extensive that they 
appear to make up the greater part of the 
mountains in which they lie, and in common 
language the mountains are said to be all 
ore. 

Specular ore, or specular iron, is so named 
from the shining, mirror-like plates in which 
it is often found. The common ore is some- 
times red, steel gray, or iron black, and all 
these varieties are distinguished by the 
bright red color of the powder of the ore, 
which is that of peroxide of iron. Mag- 
netic ore gives a black powder, which is that 
of a less oxidized combination. The specu- 
lar ore thus contains less iron and more oxy- 
gen than the magnetic ; the proportions of its 
ingredients are 70 parts in 100 of iron, and 
30 of oxygen. Though the difference seems 
slight, the qualities of the two ores are quite 
distinct. The peroxide makes iron fast, but 
some sorts of it produce an inferior quality 



of iron to that from the hematite and mag- 
netic ores, and better adapted for castings 
than for converting into malleable iron. The 
pure, rich ores, however, are many of them 
unsurpassed. It is found in beds of all di- 
mensions, and though in the eastern part of 
the United States they prove of limited ex- 
tent, those of Missouri and Lake Superior 
are inexhaustible. Magnetic and ."ipccular 
ores arc associated together in the same dis- 
trict, and sometimes are accompanied by 
hematite beds ; and it is also the case, that 
iron districts arc characterized by the preva- 
lence of one kind only of these ores, to the 
exclusion of the others. 

The red oxides of the secondary rocks 
consist, for the most part, of the red fossil- 
iferous and oolitic ores that accompany the 
so-called Clinton group of calcareous shales, 
sandstones, and argillaceous limestones of 
the upper silurian along their lines of outn 
crop in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and east- 
ern Tennessee, and from Oneida county, N. 
Y., westward past Niagara Falls, and through 
Canada even, to Wisconsin. The ore is found 
in one or two bands, rarely more than one or 
two feet thick, and the sandstone strata with 
which they are associated are sometimes so 
ferruginous as to be themselves workable 
ores. The true ores arc sometimes entirely 
made up of the forms of fossil marine shells, 
the original material of which has been 
gradually replaced by peroxide of iron. The 
oolitic variety is composed of fine globular 
particles, united together like the roe of a 
fish. The ore is also found in compact 
forms, and in Wisconsin it is in the condi- 
tion of fine sand or seed. Its composition 
is very variable, and its per-centagc of iron 
ranges from 40 to 60. By reason of the 
carbonate of lime dift'used through some of 
the varieties, these work in the blast furnace 
very freely, and serve extremely well to mix 
with the silicious ores. 

Of the varieties of carbonate of iron, the 
only ones of practical importance in the 
United States are the silicious and argilla- 
ceous carbonates of the coal formation, and 
the similar ores of purer character found 
among the tertiary clays on the western 
shores of Chesapeake Bay. The former va- 
rieties are the chief dependence of the iron 
furnaces of Great Britain, where they abun- 
dantly occur in layers among the shales of 
the coal formation, interstratified with the 
beds of coal — the shafts that are sunk for 
the exploration of one also penetrating beds 



22 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED 6TATKB. 



of the Other. The la3'ers of ore are in flat- 
tetieil blocks, balls, and kidney-shaped lumps, 
which are picked out from the shales as the 
beds of these are excavated. The ore is 
lean, affording from 30 to 40 per cent, of 
iron ; but it is of easy reduction, and makes, 
when properly treated, iron of fair quality. 
In Pennsylvania, Ohio, western Virginia, 
Kentucky, and Tennessee, the ores occur 
witli the same associations as in England ; 
but the supply is, for the most part, very pre- 
carious, and many furnaces that have de- 
pended upon them arc now kept in opera- 
tion only by drawing a considerable portion 
of their supplies from the mines of Lake 
Superior, more than one thousand miles off. 
Among the horizontally stratified rocks west 
of the Allcghanies, the same bauds of ore 
are traced over extensive districts, and arc 
even recognized in several of the dift'erent 
states named. One of the most important 
of these baiuls is the buhrstonc ore, so call- 
ed from a cellular, flinty accompaniment 
which usually underlies it, the whole con- 
tained in a bed of peculiar fossiliferous lime- 
stone. So much carbonate of lime is some- 
times present in the ore, that it requires no 
other flux in the blast furnace. Its pcr-cent- 
agc of iron is from 25 to 35. Along the line 
of outcrop of some of the carbonates are 
found deposits of hematite ores, the result 
of superficial changes in the former, due to 
atmospheric agencies long continued. In 
southern Ohio, at Hanging Rock particularly, 
numerous furnaces liave been supported by 
these ores, and have furnislied much of the 
best iron produced at the west. 

The carbonates of the tertiary are found 
in blocks and lumps among the clays along 
the shores of the ( hesapeake at Baltimore, 
and its vicinity. The ores are of excellent 
character, work easily in the furnace, make a 
kind of iron highly esteemed — particularly 
for the manufacture of nails— and are so 
abundant that they have long sustained a 
considerable number of furnaces. They lie 
near the surface, and are collected by exca- 
vating the clay beds and sorting out the 
balls of ore. The excavations have been 
carried out in some places on the shore be- 
low the level of tide, the water being kept 
back by coffer dams and steam pumps. 

Bog ores, with which the earliest furnaces 
in the country were supplied, are now little 
used. They are rarely found in quantities 
sufiicient for running the large furnaces of 
the present day, and, moreover, make but an 



inferior, brittle quality of cast iron. They 
arc cliieiiy found near the coast, and being 
easily dug, and also reduced to metal with 
great facility, they proved very convenient 
for temporary use before the great bodies of 
ore in the interior were reached. Some fur- 
naces are still running on these ores in the 
south-west part of New Jersey, and at Snow- 
hill, on the eastern shore of Maryland, and 
the iron they make is used to advantage in 
mixing at the great stove foundries in Albany 
and Troy with otlier varieties of cast iron. 
It increases the fluidity of these, and pro- 
duces with them a mixture that will flow 
into and take the forms of the minutest 
markings of the mould. 

Charcoal has been the only fuel employed 
in the manufacture of iron until anthracite 
was applied to this purpose, about the year 
1840, and .still later — in the United States — 
coke and bituminous coal. So long as wood 
continued abundant in the iron districts, it 
was preferred to the mineral fuel, as in the 
early experience of the use of the latter the 
quality of the iron it produced was inferior 
to that made from the same ores with char- 
coal, and even at the present time, most of 
the highest-priced irons are made with char- 
coal. The hard woods make the best coal, 
and after these, the yellow pine. Hemlock 
and chestnut are largely used, because of 
their abundance and cheapness. The char- 
coal furnaces are of small size compared 
with those using the denser mineral coal, 
and their capacity rarely exceeds a produc- 
tion of ten or twelve tons of pig iron in 
twenty-four hours. In 1840 they seldom 
made more than four tons a day ; the differ- 
ence is owing to larger furnaces, the use of 
hot blast, and much more efficient blowing 
machinery. The consumption of charcoal 
to the ton of iron is one hundred bushels of 
hard-wood coal at a minimum, and from this 
running up to one hundred and fifty bushels 
or more, according to the quality of the coal 
and the skill of the manager. The economy 
of the business depends, in great part, upoi. 
the convenience of the supplies of fuel and 
of ores, of each of which rather more than 
two tons weight are consumed to every ton 
of pig iron. As the woods are cut oft' in 
the vicinity of the furnaces, the supplies are 
gradually drawn from greater distances, till 
at last they are sometimes hauled irofi. ten 
to fourteen miles. The furnaces near Balti- 
more have been supplied with pine wood dis- 
charged from vessels at the coaling iiilns 



IRON. 



23 



close by the furnaces. Transportation of 
the fuel in sucli cases is a matter of second- 
ary importance. 

The mineral coals are a more certain de- 
pendence in this manufacture, and arc cheap- 
ly conveyed from the mines on the great 
lines of transportation, so that furnaces may 
be placed anywhere upon these lines, with 
reference more especially to proximity of 
ores. Thus they can be grouped togeth- 
er in greater numbers than is practicable 
■with charcoal furnaces. Their establishment, 
however, involves the outlay of much capital, 
for the anthracite furnaces are all built upon 
a large scale, with a capacity of producing 
from twenty to thirty tons of pig iron a day. 
This requires machinery of great power to 
furnish the immense quantities of air, 
amounting in the large stacks to fifteen tons 
or more every hour, and propel it through 
the dense column, of fifty to sixty feet in 
height, of heavy materials thatfiU the furnace. 
The air actually exceeds in weight all the 
other materials introduced into the furnace, 
and its efficiency in promoting combustion 
and generating intensity of heat is greatly 
increased by the concentration to which it 
is subjected when blown in under a pressure 
of six or eight pounds to the square inch. 
It is rendered still more efficient by being 
heated to temperature sufiicient to melt lead 
before it is introduced into the furnace; and 
this demands the construction of heating 
ovens, through which the blast is forced from 
the blowing cylinders in a series of iron 
pipes, arranged so as to absorb as much as 
possible of the waste heat from the combust- 
ible gases that issue from the top of the 
stack, and are led through these ovens before 
they are finally allowed to escape. The 
■weight of anthracite consumed is not fiir 
from double that of the iron made, and the 
ores usually exceed in weight the fuel. The 
flux is a small .and cheap item, its weight 
ranging from one-eighth to one-third that of 
the ores. 

The location of furnaces with reference to 
the market for the iron is a consideration of 
no small importance, for the advantages of 
cheap material may be overbalanced by the 
difference of a few dollars in the cost of 
placing in market a product of so little value 
to the Ion weight as pig iron. 

The following statement gave the cost of 
the different items which went to make up 
the total e.xpense of production at the locali- 
ties named in 1859. The advance in the 
2* 



value of ores, cost of transportation, labor, 
and coal, have increased these items about 
75 per cent, since 1863. 

At different points on the Hudson river, 
anthracite furnaces are in operation, which 
are supplied with hematites from Columbia 
and Dutchess counties, N. Y., and from the 
neighboring counties in Massachusetts, at 
prices varying from $2.25 to 83.00 per ton; 
averaging about $2.50. They also use mag- 
netic ores from Lake Champlain, and some 
from the Highlands below West Point, the 
latter costing S2.50, and the former §3.50 to, 
$4.50 per ton ; the average being about 
$!3.50. The quantities of these ores pur- 
chased for the ton of iron produced are 
about two tons of hematite and one of mag- 
netic ore, making the cost for the ores $6.75. 
Two tons of anthracite cost usually $9, and 
the flux for fuel about 35 cents. Actual con- 
tract prices for labor and superintendence 
have been 14 per ton. Thus the total ex- 
pense for the ton of pig iron is about |i:i0.10 ; 
or, allowing for repairs and interest on 
capital, full $21. 

In the Lehigh valley, in Pennsylvania, 
are numerous furnaces, which are supplied 
with anthracite at the low rate of $3 per ton, 
or $6 to the ton of iron. The ores are mixed 
magnetic and hematites, averaging in the 
proportions used about $3 per ton, or, at the 
rate consumed of 2i tons, $7.50 to the ton 
of iron. Allowing the same amount — $4.35 
— for other items, as at the Hudson river 
furnaces, the total cost is $17.85; or, with 
interest and repairs, nearly $19 per ton. The 
difference is in great part made up to the 
furnaces on the Hudson by their convenience 
to the great markets of New York, Troy, and 
Albany. 

The charcoal iron made near Baltimore 
shows a higher cost of production than either 
of the above, and it is also subject to greater 
expenses of transportation to market, which 
is chiefly at the rolling mills and nail fac- 
tories of Massachusetts. Its superior quality 
causes a demand for the product and 
sustains the business. For this iron per ton 
24 tons of ore are consumed, costing $3,624 
per ton, or $9.06 ; fuel, 34 cords at $2.50, 
$8.75; flux, oyster shells, 30 cts. ; labor (in- 
cluding $1.50 for charring) $2.75 ; other e.x- 
penses, $2 ; total, $22.86. 

At many localities in the interior of 
Pennsylvania and Ohio, iron is made at less 
cost, but their advantages are often counter- 
balanced by additional expenses incurred in 



24 



MINING INDUSTKir OF THE UNITED STATES. 



delivering the metal, and obtaining the pro- 
ceeds of its sale. Increased facilities of 
transportation, however, are rapidly remov- 
ing these distinctions. At Danville, on the 
Susquehanna river, Columbia county, Penn- 
sylvania, the cost of production has been re- 
duced to an unusually low amount, by reason 
of large supplies of ore close at hand, the 
cheapness of anthracite, and the very large 
scale of the operations. Pig iron, as shown 
by the books of the compan}', has been made 
for $11 per ton. Its quality, however, was 
inferior, so that, with the expenses of trans- 
portation added, it could not be placed in 
the eastern markets to compete with other 
irons. Pig iron is produced more cheaply 
on the Ohio river and some of its tributaries 
than elsewhere, but there are no furnaces in 
the United States which can make a good 
article much less than S27 per ton. 

DISTEIBUTION OF THE ORES. 

The magnetic and specular ores of the 
United States are found in the belt of 
metamorphic rocks — the gneiss, quartz rock, 
mica and talcose slates,and limestones — which 
ranges along to the east of the AUeghanies, 
and spreads over the principal part of the 
New England states. It is only, however, 
in certain districts, that this belt is produc- 
tive in iron ores. The hematites belong to 
the same group, and the important districts 
of the three ores may be noticed in the or- 
der in which they are met from Canada to 
Alabama. Similar ores are also alnindant 
in Missouri, and to the south of Lake 
Superior. 

New England States. — In New Ilamp- 
sliire magnetic and specular ores are found 
in largo quantities in a high granitic hill 
called the Baldface Mountain, in the town 
of Bartlctt. The locality is not conveniently 
accessible, and its remoteness from coal 
mines will probably long keep the ore, rich 
and abundant as it is, of no practical value. 
At Piermont, on the western border of the 
state, specular ore, very rich and pure, is 
also abundant, but not worked. At Fran- 
conia a sni.all furnace, erected in 1811, was 
run many years upon magnetic ores, obtain- 
ed from a bed of moderate size, and which 
in 1824 had been worked to tlie depth of 
200 feet. In 1830 the iron estaljlisliments 
of this place were still objects of considerable 
interest, though from the accounts of them 
published in the American Journal of Science 
of that year, it appears that the annual pro- 



duction of the blast furnace for the preceding 
nine years had averaged only about "216 
tons of cast iron in hollow ware, stoves, 
machinerv, and pig iron" — a less quantity 
than is now produced in a week by some of 
the anthracite furnaces. One forge making 
bar iron direct from the ore produced forty 
tons annually, and another lUO tons, con- 
suming 550 bushels of charcoal to the ton. 
The cost of this, fortunately, was only from 
$3.75 to S4.00 per hundred bushels. A 
portion of the product was transported to 
Boston, the freight alone costing $25 per ton. 

In Vermont these ores are found in the 
metamorphic slates of the Green Mountains, 
and are worked to some extent for mixing 
with the hematite ores, which are more 
abundant, being found in many of the towns 
through the central portion of the state, from 
Canada to Massachusetts. In 1850 the 
number of blast furnaces was ten, but their 
production probably did not reach 4,000 
tons per annum, and has since dwindled 
away to a much less amount. At the same 
time there were seven furnaces in Berkshire, 
Mass., near the hematite beds that are found 
in the towns along the western line of the 
state. These had a working capacity of 
about 12,000 tons of pig iron annually, and 
this being made from excellent ores, with 
charcoal for fuel, its reputation was high and 
the prices remunerative; but as charcoal in- 
creased in price, and the cheaper anthracite- 
made iron improved in quality, the business 
became unprofitable ; so that the extensive 
hematite beds are now chiefly valuable for 
furnishing ores to the furnaces upon the 
Hudson river, where anthracite is deliv- 
ered from the boats that have come through 
the Delaware and Hudson canal, and magnetic 
ores are brought by similar cheap conveyance 
from the mines on the west side of Lake 
Champlain. Through Connecticut, down the 
Ilousatonic valley, very extensive beds of 
hematite have supplied the sixteen furnaces 
which were in operation ten years ago. The 
great Salisbury bed has already been named. 
In the first half of the present century it 
produced from 250,000 to 300,000 tcms of 
the very best ore ; the iron from which, when 
made with cold blast, readily brought from 
$6 to $10 per ton more than the ordi- 
nary kinds of pig iron. The Kent ore bed was 
of similar character, though not so extensive. 

New York. — Across the New York state 
line, a number of other very extensive de- 
posits of hematite supported seven blast fur- 



IRON. . 



25 



naces in Columbia and Dntcliess counties, 
and now furnish supplies to those along the 
Hudson river. In Putnam count}-, magnetic 
ores succeed the hematites, and are devel- 
oped in considerable beds in Putnam Val- 
ley, east from Cold Spring, where they were 
worked for the supply of forges during the 
last centur}'. These beds can again furnish 
large quantities of rich ore. On the other 
side of the river, very productive mines of 
magnetic ore have been worked near Fort 
Montgomery, six miles west fi'om the river. 
At the Greenwood furnace, back from West 
Point, was produced the strongest cast iron 
ever tested, which, according to the report 
of the officers of the ordnance department, 
made to Congress in 1856, after being re- 
melted several times to increase its densitv, 
exhibited a tenacity of 45,9('0 lbs. to the 
square inch. The beds at Monroe, near the 
New Jersey line, are of vast extent; but a 
small portion of the enormous quantities of 
ore in sight, however, makes the best iron. 
Mining was commenced here in 1750, and a 
furnace was built in 1751, but operations 
have never been carried on upon a scale 
commensurate with the abundance of the 
ores. In the northern counties of New 
York, near Lake Charaplain, are numerous 
mines of rich magnetic ores. Some of the 
most extensive bloomary establishments in 
the United States are suppoi-ted by them in 
Clinton county, and many smaller forges are 
scattered along the course of the Ausable 
river, where water power near some of the 
ore beds presents a favorable site. Bar iron 
is made at these establishments direct from 
the ores; and at Keeseville nail factories are 
in operation, converting a portion of the 
iron into nails. In Essex county there are 
also many very productive mines of the same 
kind of ore, and Port Henry and its vicinitv 
has furnished large quantities, not only to 
the blast furnaces that were formerly in 
operation here, but to those on the Hudson, 
and to puddling furnaces in different parts 
of the country, particularly about Boston. 
In the interior of Essex county, fort}- miles 
back from the lake, are the extensive mines 
of the Adirondac. The ores are rich as 
well as inexhaustible, but the remoteness of 
the locality, and the difficulty attending the 
working of them, owing to their contamina- 
tion with titanium, detract greatly from their 
importance. On the other side nf the Adi- 
rondac mountains, in St. Lawrence county, 
near Lake Ontario, are found larjie beds of 



specular ores, which have been worked to 
some extent in several blast furnaces. They 
occur along the line of junction of the gran- 
ite and the Potsdam sandstone. The iron 
they make is inferior — suitable only for cast- 
ings. The only other ores of any importance 
in the state are the fossiliferous ores of the 
Clinton group, which are worked near Oneida 
Lake, and at several points along a narrow 
belt of country near the south shore of Lake 
Ontario. They have sustained five blast 
furnaces in this region, and are transported 
in large quantities by canal to the anthra- 
cite furnaces at Scranton, in Pennsylvania, 
the boats returning with mineral coal for the 
furnaces near Oneida Lake. 

New Jersey. — From Orange county, in 
New York, the range of gneiss and horn- 
blende rocks, which contain the magnetic 
and specular ores, passes into New Jersey, 
and spreads over a large part of Passaic and 
Morris, and the eastern parts of Sussex and 
Warren counties. The beds of magnetic ore 
are very large and numerous, and have been 
worked to great extent, especially about 
Ringwood, Dover, Rockaway, Boonton, and 
other towns, both in blast furnaces and in 
bloomaries. At Andover, in Sussex county, 
a great body of specular ores furnished for a 
number of years the chief supjjlies for the 
furnaces of the Trenton Iron Company, situ- 
ated at Philipsburg, opposite the mouth of 
the Lehigh. On the range of this ore, a few 
miles to the north-east, are extensive deposits 
of Frankliniteiron ore accompanying the zinc 
ore of this region. This unusual variety 
of ore consists of peroxide of iron about 
66 per cent., oxide of zinc 17, and oxide of 
manganese 16. It is smelted at the works 
of the New Jersey Zinc Company at New- 
ark, producing annually about 2,000 tons of 
pig iron. The metal is remarkable for its 
large crystalline faces and hardness, and is 
particularly adapted for the manufacture of 
steel, as well as for producing bar iron of 
great strength. 

As the forests, which formerly supplied 
abundant fuel for the iron works of this re- 
gion, disappeared before the increasing de- 
mands, attention was directed to the inex- 
haustible sources of anthracite up the Lehigh 
valley in Pennsylvania, with which this iron 
region was connected by the Morris canal 
and the Lehigh canal ; and almost the first 
successful application of this fuel to the 
smelting of iron ores upon a large scale was 
made at Stanhope, by Mr. Edwin Post. A new 



26 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



era in tie iron manufacture was thus intro- 
duced, and an immense increase in the pro- 
duction soon followed, as the charcoal fur- 
naces gave place to larger ones constructed 
for antliracite. The Lehigh valle_v, lying on 
the range of the iron ores toward the soutli- 
wcst, also produced large quantities of ore, 
which, however, was almost exclusively 
hematite. Hence, an interchange of ores 
has been largely carried on for furnishing 
the best mixtures to the furnaces of the two 
portions of tliis iron district ; and the oper- 
ations of the two nuist necessarily be consid- 
ered together. The annual production, in- 
cluding that of the bloomaries of New Jer- 
sey, has reached, within a few years, about 
140,000 tons of iron. But in a prosperous 
condition of the iron business this can be 
largely increased without greatly adding to 
the works already established, while the ca- 
pacity of tlie iron mines and supplies of fuel 
are unlimited. The proximity of this dis- 
trict to the great cities. New York and Phil- 
adelphia, adds greatly to its importance. 

Pennsylvania. — Although about one- 
third of all the iron manufactured in the 
United States is the product of the mines of 
Pennsylvania, and of the ores carried into 
the state, the comparative importance of her 
mines has been greatly overrated, and their 
large development is rather owing to the 
abundant supplies of mineral coal conveni- 
ently at hand for working the ores, and, as 
remarked by Mr. Lesley (" Iron Manufac- 
turer's Guide," p. 433), " to the energetic, 
persevering (ierman use for a century of 
years of what ores d<i exist, than to any ex- 
traordinary wealth of iron of which she can 
boast. Her reputation for iron is certainly 
not derived from any actual pre-eminence of 
mineral over her sister states. New York, 
New Jersey, Virginia, and North Carolina, 
are far more liberally endowed by nature in 
this respect than slic. The immense mag- 
netic deposits of New York and New Jersey 
almost disappear just after entering her lim- 
its. The brown hematite beds of her great 
valley will not seem extraordinary to one 
^vho lias become familiar with those of New 
Y'ork, Massachusetts, Vermont, Virginia, and 
Tennessee. Her fossil ores are lean and un- 
certain compared with those of the south; 
and the carbonate and hematized carbonate 
outcrops in and under her coal measures 
will hardly bear comparison with those of 
the grander outspread of the same forma- 
tions in Ohio, Kentucky, and western Vir- 



ginia." The principal sources of iron in the 
state are, first, the hematites of Lehigh and 
Berks counties — the range continuing pro- 
ductive through Lancaster, also on the other 
side of the intervening district of the new 
red sandstone formation. The ores are 
found in large beds in the limestone valley, 
between the South and the Kittatinny 
mountains ; those nearest the Lehigh supply 
the furnaces on that river, already amounting 
to twenty-three in operation and four more in 
course of construction, and those nearer the 
Schuylkill supply the furnaces along this 
river. The largest bed is the Moselem, in 
Berks county, six miles west-south-west from 
Kutztown. It has been very extensively 
worked, partly in open excavation and partly 
by underground mining, the workings reach- 
ing to the depth of 165 feet. Over 20,000 
tons a year of ore have been produced, at a 
cost of from $1.30 to $1.50 per ton. 

Magnetic ores are found upon the Lehigh, 
or South mountain, the margin on the south 
of the fertile limestone valley which con- 
tains the hematite beds. These, how- 
ever, are quite unimportant, the dependence 
of the great iron furnaces of the Lehigh 
for these ores being on the more extensive 
mines of New Jersey; while the only sup- 
plies of magnetic ores to the furnaces of the 
Schuylkill and the Susquehanna are from the 
great Cornwall mines, four miles south of Leb- 
anon. An immense body of magnetic iron 
ore, associated with copper ores, has been 
worked for a long time at this place, at the 
junction of the lower silui'ian limestones 
and the red sandstone formation. The bed 
lies between dikes of trap, and exhibits pe- 
culiarities that distinguish it from the other 
bodies of iron ore on this range. Tlic ^Var- 
wick, or Jones' mine, in the south corner of 
Berks county, resembles it in some particu- 
lars. Its geological position is in the upper 
slaty layers of the Potsdam sandstone, near 
the meeting of this formation with the new 
rod sandstone. Trap dikes penetrate the 
ore and the slates, and the best ore is found 
at l)Oth mines near the trap. Not far ivom 
York, I'a , nii ore known as the Codorus Lon 
Ore has been raised for some years, bul was 
regarded as almost worthless, but recent ex- 
periments have led to the discovery that it 
contains the exact ingredients necessary to 
make it the best of fluxes for reducing the 
other ores of that region to steel of excellent 
quality without any intermediate process. 
Along the Maryland line, on both sides of the 



IROIf. 



27 



Susquehanna, chrome iron has been found in 
considerable abundance in tlie serpentine 
rocks, and has been largely and very profita- 
bly mined forborne consumption and for ex- 
portation. It furnishes the different chrome 
pigment", and their preparation has been 
carried on chiefly at Baltimore. 

A portion of the hematites which supply 
the furnaces on the Schuylkill, occur along a 
narrow limestone belt of about a mile in 
width, that crosses the Schuylkill at Spring 
Mill, and extends north-east into Montgomery 
county, and south-west into Chester county. 
Their production has been very large, and 
that of the furnaces of the Schuylkill valley 
dependent upon these and the other mines 
of this region has been rated at 100,000 
tons of iron annually. 

The great Chestnut hill hematite ore bed, 
three and a half miles north-east of Columbia, 
Lancaster county, covers about twelve acres 
of surface, and has been worked in numer- 
ous great open excavations to about 100 feet 
in depth, the ore prevailing throughout 
among the clays and sands from top to bot- 
tom. "The floor of the mine is hard, white 
Potsdam sandstone, or the gray slaty layers 
over it. The walls show horizontal wavy 
layers of blue, yellow, and white laminated, 
unctuous clays, from forty to sixty feet deep, 
containing ore, and under these an irregular 
layer of hard concretionary, cellular, fibrous, 
brown liematite from 
ten to thirty feet 
thick down to the 
sandstone." (" Iron 
M an uf act urer's 
Guide, p. 562.") In 
the accompanying 
wood-cut, the dark- 
ly shaded portions 
represent the hema- 
tites, while the light- 
er portions above are 
chiefly clays. Pro- 
fessor Rogers sup- 
poses that the ore 
has leached down 
from the upper slaty 
beds through which 
it was originally dif- 
fused, and has col- 
lected upon the im- 
pervious sandstone, 

which in this vicinity is the first water 
bearing stratum for the wells. 

The repeated occurrence of the lower 



Silurian limestones and sandstones along the 
valleys of central Pennsylvania, from the 
Susquehanna to the base of the Alleghany 
mountain, is accompanied through these val- 
leys with numerous beds of hematite ; and 
to the supplies of ore they have furnished 
for great numbers of furnaces, is added the 
fossiliferous ore of the Clinton group, the out- 
crop of which is along the slopes of the ridges 
and around their ends. Many furnaces have 
depended upon this source of supply alone. 
As stated by Lesley, there were, in 185 7, 
14 anthracite furnaces that used no other, 
and 1 1 anthracite furnaces which mixed it 
either with magnetic ore or hematite, or with 
both. Montour's ridge, at Danville, Colum- 
bia county, referred to on page 2-1, is one of 
the most remarkable localities of this ore. 
Professor Rogers estimated, in 1847, that 
there were 20 furnaces then dependent upon 
the mines of this place, and producing<mnually 
an average of 3,000 tons of iron each, with 
a consumption of 9,000 tons of ore, or a 
total annual consumption of 180,000 tons. 
At this rate, he calculated that the availar 
ble ore would bff exhausted in 20 years. 

Between the Clinton group and the coal 
measures are successive formations of lime- 
stones, sandstones, shales, etc., which form a 
portion of the geological column of many thou- 
sand feet in thickness; and among these strata, 
ores like the carbonates of the coal measures 




CHESTNUT niLL UINS. 



are occasionally developed, and these are 
recognized and worked at many localities 
along the outcrop of the formations to 



28 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



which they belong. Though of some local 
hnportance, they do not add very largely to 
the iron production of the state. Along the 
summit of the Alleghany mountain the base 
of the coal measures is reached, which 
thence spread over the western portion of 
the state, nearly to its northern line. The 
ores which belong to this formation are 
chiefly contained among its lower mem- 
bers, and found in the outcrop of these 
around the margin of the basin. At some 
localities they have been obtained in consider- 
able abundance, and many furnaces have run 
upon them alone ; but for largo establish- 
ments of several furnaces together, they 
prove a very uncertain dependence. 

Maryland. — The metamorphicbclt crosses 
this state back of Baltimore, and is pro- 
ductive in chromic iron and copper ores, 
rather than in magnetic and specular ores. 
Some of the former, highly titaniferous, have 
been worked near the northern line of the 
state, on the west side of the Susquelianna ; 
and at Sykesville, on the Potomac, a furnace 
has been supplied with specular ores from its 
vicinity. Several hematite beds within 
twenty miles of Baltimore have supplied 
considerable quantities of ore for mixture 
with the tertiary carbonates, upon which 
the iron production of the state chiefly 
depends. Beds of these occur near the bay 
from Havre de Grace to the District of 
Columbia. In the western part of the state 
large furnaces were built at Mount Savage and 
Lonaconing to work the ores of the coal 
formation ; but the supply has proved in- 
sufficient to sustain them. In 1853 the 
capacity of the blast furnaces of the state 
was equal to a production of over 70,000 
tons of iron. This, however, has never been 
realized. 

Southern States. — South of Maryland 
the same iron belt continues through Vir- 
ginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia; and al- 
though it is often as productive in immense 
beds of the three varieties of ore — the 
magnetic, specular, and hematite — as in the 
other states along its range, those resources 
add comparatively little to the material 
wealth of the states to which they belong. 
Through Virginia, east and west of the Blue 
Ridge, hematite ores abound in the limestone 
valleys, and magnetic ores are often in con- 
venient proximity to them. Many small 
furnaces have worked them at different 
times, but their product was always small. 
Three belts of magnetic ore, associated with 



specular iron and hematites, are traced 
across the midland counties of North Caro- 
lina, and have furnished supplies for fur- 
naces and forges in a number of counties — 
as Lincoln, Cleveland, Rutherford, Stokes, 
Surry, Yadkin, Catawba; and Chatham, 
Wake, and Orange counties upon the east- 
ern belt. The belt of ore from Lincoln 
county passes into South Carolina, and 
through York, Union, and Spartanburg 
districts. It crosses the Broad River at the 
Cherokee ford, and though the whole belt 
is only half a mile wide, it presents numer- 
ous localities of the three kinds of ore, and of 
limestone also in close proximitv, and finely 
situated for working. Several other locali- 
ties are noticed in the " State Geological 
Report," by M. Tuomey, who remarks, on 
page 278, that "if iron is not manfactured 
in the state as successfully as elsewhere, it is 
certainly not due to any deficiency in 
natural advantages." In northern Georgia 
the ferruginous belt is productive in im- 
mense bodies of hematite, associated with 
magnetic and specular ores, in the Allatoona 
hills, near the Etowah river, in Cherokee 
and Cass counties. This, which appears to 
be one of the great iron districts of the 
United States, though bountifully provided 
with all the materials required in the manu- 
facture, and traversed by a railroad which 
connects it with the bituminous coal mines 
of eastern Tennessee, supports only six 
small charcoal furnaces of average capacity, 
not exceeding 600 or 700 tons per annum 
each. In Alabama, hematites and specular 
ores accompany the belt of silurian rocks 
to its southern termination, and are worked 
in a few bloomary fires and two or three 
blast furnaces. The fossiliferous ore of 
the Clinton group is also worked in this 
state. 

Tennessee in 1840 ranked as the third 
iron-producing state in the Union. The 
counties ranging along her eastern border 
produced hematite ores, continuing the 
range of the silurian belt of the great val- 
ley of Virginia ; those bordering the Clinch 
river produced the fossil ore of the Clinton 
group, there known as the dyestone ore ; 
and western Tennessee presented a very in- 
teresting and important district of hematites 
belonging to the subiiarboniferous limestone 
in the region lying east of the Tennessee 
and south of the Cumberland river.* The 

* "It is remarkable that most of these deposits 



IRON. 



29 



furnaces of this district, which have num- 
bered 42 in all, were the greater part of 
them in Dickson, Montgomery, and Stewart 
counties. They were all supplied with 
charcoal for fuel, at a cost of S4 per hundred 
busliels. In 1854 the product of pig iron 
was 37,918 tons; but it gradually declined 
to 27,050 tons in 1857; and iu August, 
1858, only 15 furnaces were in operation. 
The clo^e of the war gave a new impulse to 
the production of iron in Tennessee, and 
wilh her e.vcellent ores and her extensive 
forests she is already taking the lead among 
the southwestern Slates in the production 
of a charcoal iron of superior quality, and 
will soon produce, also, large quantities of 
coke or bituminous cual iron. 

Kentucky. — The western part of this 
state contains, in the counties of Calloway, 
Trigg, Lyon, Caldwell, Livingston, and 
Crittenden, an important district of hema- 
tite ores — the continuation northward of 
that of Tennessee. In 1857 10 charcoal 
furnaces produced 15,600 tons of iron. 
Eastern Kentuck}', however, has a much 
more productive district in the counties of 
Carter and Greenup, which is an extension 
south of the Ohio of the Hanging Rock 
iron district of Ohio. The ores are car- 
bonates and hematite outcrops of carbon- 
ates, belonging to the coal measures and the 
subcarboniferous limestone. They are in 
great abundance ; a section of 740 feet of 
strata terminating below with the limestone 
named, presenting no less than 14 distinct 
beds of ore, from three inches to four feet 
each, and yielding from 25 to 60 per cent, 
of iron. One bed of 32 per cent, iron con- 
tains also 1 1 per cent, bitumen — a composi- 
tion like that of the Scotch "black band" 
ore. Others contain so much lime, that the 
ores arc valuable for fluxing as well as for 
producing iron. The furnaces use charcoal 



are of what ia called pot ore, tliat is, lioUow balls of 
ore, which, when broken open, look like broken 
caldrons. One of them, preserved by Mr. Lewis, is 
8 feel across the rim ! Another is six feet across. 
Tlie niajoriiy are crossed within by purple diaphragms 
or partitions of ore, and the interstitial spaces are 
filled with yellow ochre. Some, like tlie great eiglit- 
foot pot, are found to be full of water. Tlie inside sur- 
face is maniinillary, irregular, sometimes botryoidal 
or knobby, but the outside is pretty smooth and reg- 
ular. All these pots were undoubtedly once bails 
of carbonates of lime and iron segregated in tlie orig- 
inal deposit. . . . Gypsum and pyrites are both 
often found in these Teuuessee pots." — Iron Manu- 
facturer's Guide, p. 603. 



and coke. Their production, taken with 
that of the same district in Ohio, places 
this region, as will be seen in the tables to 
follow, among the first iu importance in the 
United States. 

Ohio. — The ores of this state, like those 
of Kentucky, belong almost exclusively to 
the coal measures and the limestone forma- 
tions beneath. In both states some of the 
fo.ssiliferous ore also is found, but it is com- 
paratively unimportant. The productive 
beds are near the base of the coal formation, 
ranging from the Hanging Rock district of 
Scioto and Lawrence counties north-east 
through Jackson, Hocking, Athens, Perry, 
Muskinirum, Tuscarawas, Mahoning, and 
Trumbull counties, to the line of Mercer 
county in Pennsylvania. The uncertain 
character of the ores, both as to supply and 
quality, is strikingly shown by the fact that 
many of the furnaces of the more northern 
counties depend for a considerable portion 
— one-fourth or more — of the ores they use 
upon the rich varieties from Lake Superior 
and Lake Champlain. Although the long 
transportation makes these ores cost nearly 
three times as much per ton as those of the 
coal formation, some furnaces find it more 
profitable to use the former, even in the pro- 
portion of three-fourths, on account of the 
much better iron produced, the greater num- 
ber of tons per day, and the less consump- 
tion of fuel to the ton. The fuel employed 
is charcoal in many of the furnaces; some 
have introduced raw bituminous coal to good 
advantage. 

Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa contain no 
important bodies of iron ore. The coal 
measures, which cover large portions of 
these states, are productive in some small 
quantities of the carbonates, in the two 
former, which give support to a very few fur- 
naces ; but in Iowa they contain no worka- 
ble beds at all. 

MiciiioAN. — The iron region of this state 
is in the upper peninsula, between Green 
Bay and Lake Superior. Magnetic and 
specular ores arc found throughout a large 
poilion of this wild territorv, in beds more 
extensive than are seen in any other part of 
the United States — perhaps than are any- 
where known. The district approaches 
within twelve miles of the coast of Lake 
Superior, from which it is more conveniently 
reached than from the south side of the 
peninsula. The ores are found in a belt of 
crystalline slates, of six to ten miles in 



30 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



width, that extends west from the lake shore, 
and is bounded north and south by a 
granitic district. They are developed in 
connection with great dikes and ridges of 
trap, whicli range east and west, and dip 
with the slates at a high angle toward the 
north. The ores also have the same direc- 
tion and dip. Localities of them are of 
frequent occurrence for eighteen miles in a 
westerly direction from the point of their 
nearest approach to Lake Superior. A second 
range of the beds is found along the south- 
ern margin of the slate district ; and about 
thirty miles back from the lake, whore the 
slates extend south into Wisconsin, similar 
developments of ore accompany them to the 
Menomonee river and toward Green Bay. 
The quality of the ore found at different 
places varies according to the amount of 
quartz, jasper, hornblende, or feldspar that 
may be mixed with it ; but enormous 
bodies are nearly pure ore, yielding from 68 
to 70 per cent, of iron, and free from a trace 
even of manganese, sulphur, phosphorus, or 
titanium. A single ridge, traced for about six 
miles, rising to a maximum height o\ fifty 
feet above its base, and spreading out to a 
width of one thousand feet, has been found 
to consist of great longitudinal bands of 
ore, much of which is of this perfectly pure 
character. Another ridge presents precipi- 
tous walls fifty feet high, composed in part 
of pure specular ore, fine grained, of imper- 
fect slaty structure, and interspersed with 
minute crystals of magnetic oxide ; and in 
part of these minute crystals alone. Another 
body of one thousand feet in width, and 
more than a mile long, forms a hill one hun- 
dred and eighty feet high, which is made up 
of alternate bands of pure, fine grained, steel- 
gray peroxide of iron, and deep red jaspory 
ore — the laj'crs generally less than a fourth 
of an inch in thickness, and curiously con- 
torted. Their appearance is very beautiful 
in the almost vertical walls. On one of the 
head branches of the Esconaba is a cascade 
of thirty-seven feet in height, the ledge over 
which the water falls being a bed of peroxide 
of iron, intermixed with silicious matter. 

For the supply of the few furnaces and 
bloomarv establishments already in operation 
in this district, and for the larger demands 
of distant localities, the ores are collected 
from open quarries, and from the loose 
masses lying around. A railroad afiords the 
means of transporting them to Marquette, on 
the lake shore, whence they are shipped by 



vessels down the lake. The business already 
amounts to more than 100,000 tons per 
annum, and is increasing very rapidly. The 
name Bay de Noquet and ALarquette railroad 
suggests a southern terminus of this road on 
Green Bay, and when an outlet is opened in 
this direction, the production of iron ores 
will no doubt exceed that of any other region 
upon the globe. Large quantities will be 
reduced with charcoal in blast furnaces and 
blooniaries in the region itself; and when 
the forests in the vicinity of the works are cut 
off, the extensive timbered lands around 
Lake Michigan and Lake Huron will furnish 
inexhaustible supplies of fuel, which may be 
brought in vessels to the furnaces, as the 
pine wood from the forests around Chesa- 
peake Bay has long been delivered to the 
furnaces on its western shore. Anthracite 
and bituminous coal will also be brought 
back as return cargoes by the vessels that 
carry the ores to the coal fields of Ohio and 
Pennsylvania. With its vast inland naviga- 
tion and wonderful resources of iron and 
of copper also, the north-western portion of 
our country promises to be the scene of a 
more extended and active industry than 
has ever grown out of the mines of any part 
of the world. 

Wisconsin. — Magnetic and specular ores 
in bodies, somewhat resembling those of the 
region just described, are found in the ex- 
treme northern part of Wisconsin, upon 
what is known as the Penokie range, distant 
about 25 miles from Chegwomigon Bay, 
Lake Superior. Bad River and Montreal 
River drain this district. The ores, from 
their remoteness, are not soon likely to be of 
practical importance. Other immense bodies 
of these ores, estimated to contain many 
millions of tons, are found on Black River, 
which empties into the Mississippi below St. 
Croix river, on the line of the Land Grant 
Branch railroad. A furnace has been built 
by a German company to work these mines. 
In the eastern part of Wisconsin the oolitic 
ore of the Clinton group is met with in Dodge 
and Washington counties,and again at Depere, 
seven miles south-east of Green Bay. In the 
town of Hubbard, Dodge count}', forty miles 
west from Lake Michigan, is the largest de- 
posit of this ore ever discovered. It spreads 
in a layer ten feet thick over 500 acres, and 
is estimated to contain 27,000,000 tons. It 
is in grains, like sand, of glistening red 
color, staining the hands. Each grain has a 
minute nucleus of silex, around which the 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



31 



oxide of iron collected. The per-centage of 
metal is about fifty. This ore will probably 
be worked near Milwaukee with Lake 
Superior ores, the La Crosse railroad, which 
passes by the locality, already aftbrding the 
means of cheap transportatjion. 

Missouri. — This state must be classed 
among the first in the abundance of its iron 
ores, though up to this time comparatively 
little has been done in the development of 
its mines. The ores are exclusively hema- 
tites, and the magnetic and specular, and all 
occur in the isolated district of silurian 
rocks — formations which almost everywhere 
else in the western middle states are con- 
cealed beneath the more recent forma- 
tions. In the counties along the line of the 
Pacific railroad south-west branch, Prof. 
Swallow, the state geologist, reports no less 
than ninety localities of hematite. These 
are in Jefterson, Franklin, Crawford, Phelps, 
Pulaski, Marion, Green, and other counties. 
The first attempts to melt iron in Missouri, 
and probably in any state west of Ohio, were 
made in Washington county, in 182.3 or 
1824, and with the hematites of the localit}' 
■were mixed magnetic ores from the Iron 
mountain. In Franklin county there is but 
one furnace, though on both sides of the 
Maramec are beds of hematite pipe ore, 
which cover hundreds of acres. The Iron 
mountain district is about sixty miles back 
from the Mississippi river (the nearest point 
on which is St. Genevieve), and extends from 
the Iron mountain in the south-east part of 
Washington county into Madison county. 
It includes three important localities of 
specular ore : the Iron Mountain, Pilot 
Knob, and Shepherd mountain. The first is 
a hill of gentle slopes, 228 feet high above 
its base, and covering about 500 acres — a 
spur of the porphyritic and syenitic range on 
the cast side of Bellcvue valley. In its 
original state, as seen by the writer in 1841, 
it presented no appearance of rock in place, 
its surface was covered with a forest of oak, 
the trees thriving in a soil wholly composed 
of fragments of peroxide of iron, comminuted 
and coarse mixed together. Loose lumps 
of the ore were scattered around on every 
side but the north, and upon the top were 
loose blocks of many tons weight each. 
Mining operations, commenced in 1845, de- 
veloped only loose ore closely packed with a 
little red clay. An Artesian well was after- 
ward sunk to the depth of 152 feet. It pass- 
ed through the following strata in succession ; 



iron ore and clay, 16 feet; sandstone, 34 
feet; magnesian limestone, 74 inches; gray 
sandstone, 74 inches; "hard blue rock," 37 
feet ; " pure iron ore," 5 feet ; porphyritic 
rock, 7 feet ; iron ore 50 feet to the bottom. 
The ore appears to be interstratified with 
the silicious rocks with which it is associated 
in a similar manner to its occurrence at the 
other localities, and data are yet wanting to 
determine how much may exist in the hill 
itself, as well as below it. Enough is seen to 
justify any operations, however extensive, 
that depend merely upon continued supplies 
of ore. In quality the ore is a very pure 
peroxide ; it melts easily in the furnace, 
making a strong forge pig, well adapted for 
bar iron and steel. Two charcoal furnaces 
have been in operation for a number of 
years, and up to the close of 1854 had pro- 
duced 24,600 tons of iron. The flux is ob- 
tained from the magnesian limestone, which 
spreads over the adjoining valley in horizon- 
tal strata. 

Pilot Knob is a conical hill of 580 feet 
height above its base, situated six miles south 
of the Iron mountain. Its sides are steep, 
and present bold ledges of hard, slaty, sili- 
cious rock, which lie inclined at an angle of 
25° to 30° toward the south-west. Near the 
top the strata are more or less charged with 
the red peroxide of iron, and loose blocks 
of great size are seen scattered around, 
some of them pure ore, and some ore and 
rock mixed. At the height of 440 feet 
above the base, w here the horizontal section 
of the mountain is equal to an area of fifty- 
three acres, a bed of ore is exposed to view 
on the north side, which extends 273 feet 
along its line of outcrop, and is from nineteen 
to twenty-four feet in thickness. It is in- 
cluded in the slaty rocks, and dips w'ith 
them. Other similar beds are said to occur 
lower down the hill ; and higher up others 
are met with to the very summit. The 
peak of the mountain is a craggy knob of 
gray rocks of ore, rising sixty feet in lieight, 
and forming so conspicuous an object as to 
have suggested the name by which the hill 
is called. The ore is generally of more slaty 
structure than that of the Iron mountain, 
and some of it has a micaceous appearance. 
The quantity of very pure ore conveniently at 
hand is inexhaustible. The production of iron 
will be limited more for want of abundance 
of fuel than of ore. Charcoal, however, may 
be obtained in abundance for many years to 
come, and bituminous coal may also be 



32 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



brought from the coal mines of Missouri and 
Illinois, as the ores also can be carried to 
the river to meet there the fuel. The local- 
ity is already connected with St. Louis by a 
railroad. A blast furnace was built here in 
1846, and another in 1855. A bloomary 
with six fires was started in 1850, and has 
produced blooms at an estimated cost of 
$30 per ton. 

Sliephcrd mountain, about a mile distant 
from the I'ilot Knob toward the south-west, 
is composed of porphyritic rocks, which are 
penetrated with veins or dikes of both map;- 
netic and specular ores. These run in vari- 
ous directions, and the ores they aftord are 
of great purity. They are mined to work 
together with those of the I'ilot Knob. The 
mountain covers abi:>ut 800 acres, and 
rises to the height of CGO feet above its base. 
Other localities of these ores arc also known, 
and the occurrence of specular ore is reported 
by the state geologists in several other coun- 
ties, as I'helps, Crawford, Pulaski, La Clede, 
etc. 

In muny parts of the United States and it* 
territories iron is known to exist in great quan- 
tities. In Nebraska and Wyoming territory, 
near the line of the Union Pacific Railroad, 
large beds of iron ore of good quality are found, 
in proximity to extensive coal dei)osits, and 
these will be utilized for making rails of iron 
or steel for that great tiioroughfare. In 
Kansas, Colorado, and New Mexico, are beds 
of specular and olherores in great profusion. 
The norihern territories, as well as the Pa- 
cific States and lerritories, have abundant 
ores of ihs richest qualities, and coal enough 
and wood enough to melt them success- 
fully. 

IRON MANUFACTURE. 

Iron is known in the arts chiefly in three 
forms — cast iron, steel, and wrought iron. 
The first is a combination of metallic iron, 
with from 1,} to 5 or 5tV per cent, of carbon ; 
the second is metallic iron combined with ^- 
to 14 per cent, of carbon; and the third is 
metallic iron, free as may be from foreign 
substances. These dilferences of composi- 
tion are accompanied with remarkable diftor- 
ences in the qualities of the metal, by which 
its usefulness is greatly multiplied. The 
three sorts are producible as desired directly 
from the ores, and they are also convertible 
one into the other; so that the methods of 
manufacture are numerous, and new processes 
are continually introduced. The production 



of wrought iron direct from the rich natural 
oxides, was until modern times the only 
method of obtaining the metal. Cast iron 
was unknown until the 15th century. Rude 
nations early learned the simple method of 
separating the oxvgen from the ores by heat- 
ing them in the midst of burning charcoal ; 
the effect of which is to cause the oxygen to 
unite with the carbon in the form of carbonic 
acid or carbonic oxide gas, and escape, leav- 
ing the iron free, and in a condition to be 
hammered at once into bars. The heat they 
could command in their small fires was in- 
sufficient to eft'ect the combination of the 
iron, too, with the carbon, and produce the 
fusible compound known as cast iron. In 
modern times the great branch of the busi- 
ness is the production of pig metal or cast 
iron in blast furnaces; and this is afterward 
remelted and cast in moulds into the forms 
required, or it is converted into wrought iron 
to serve some of the innumerable uses of 
this kind of iron, or to be changed again into 
steel. In this order the principal branches 
of the manufacture will be noticed. 

The production of pig metal in Idnst fur- 
naces is tlio most economical mode of separa- 
ting iron from its ores, especially if these are 
not extremely rich. The process requiring 
little labor, except in charging the furnaces, 
and this being done in great part by labor- 
saving machines, it can be carried on upon 
an immense scale with the employment of 
few persons, and most of those ordinary la- 
borers. The business, moreover, has been 
greatly simplified and its scale enlarged by 
the substitution of mineral coal for charcoal — • 
the latter fuel, indeed, could never have been 
supplied to meet the modern demands of the 
manufacture. 

Blastfurnaces are heavy structures of stone 
work, usually in pyramidal form, built upon 
a base of 30 to 45 feet square, and from 30 
to CO feet in height. The outer walls, con- 
structed with immense solidity and firmly 
bound together, inclose a central cavity, 
which extends from top to bottom and is 
lined with large fire brick of the most refrac- 
tory character, and specially adapted in their 
shapes to the re(piired contour of the interior. 
The form of this cavity is circular in its hori- 
zontal section, and from the top goes on en- 
larging to the lower portion, where it begins 
to draw in by the walls changing their slope 
toward the centre. This forms what are 
called the boshes of the furnace — the part 
which supports the great weight of the ores 




CASriNG PIU IKUN. 




BLAST FURNACE. 



CASTING STEEL INGOTS. 



IRON. 



33 



and fuel that fill the interior. For ores that 
melt easily and fast they are made steeper 
than for those which are slowly reduced. 
The boshes open below into the hearth — the 
central contracted space which the French 
name the crucible of the furnace. The 
walls of this arc constructed of the most re- 
fractory stones of larsfe size, carefully selected 
for their power to resist the action of fire, 
and seasoned by exposure for a year or more 
after being taken from the quarry. Beinc; 
the first portion to give out, the stack is built 
so that they can be replaced when necessary. 
The hearth is reached on each side of the 
stack by an arch, extending in from the out- 
side. On three sides the blast is introduced 
by iron pipes that pass through the hearth- 
Btones, and terminate in a hollow tuyere, 
which i-i kept from melting by a current of 
waer brought by a lead or block-tin pipe. 
and made to flow continually through and 
around its hollow shell. The fourth side is 
the front or working-arch of the furnace, atthe 
bottom of which access is had to the melted 
materials as they collect in the receptacle pro- 
vided for them at the base of the hearth or 
crucible. This arch opens out into the cast- 
ing-house, upon the floor of which are the 
beds in the sand for moulding the pigs into 
which the iron is to be cast. Upon the top 
of the stack around the central cavity arc 
constructed, in first-class furnaces, large flues, 
■which open into this cavity for the purpose 
of taking oft' a portion of the heated gaseous 
mixtures, that they may be conveyed under 
the boilers, to be there more efteetually con- 
sumed, and furnish the heat for raising steam 
for the engines. A portion of the gases is 
also led into a large heating-oven, usually 
built on the top of the stack, in which the 
bhist (distributed through a series of cast iron 
pipes) is heated by the combustion. These 
pipes are then concentrated into one main, 
which passes down the stack and delivers the 
heated air to the tuyeres, thus returning to 
the furnace a large portion of the heat 
which would otherwise escape at the top, and 
adding powerfully to the eSiciency of the 
blast by its high temperature. The boilers, 
also conveniently arranged on the top of the 
furnace, especially when two furnaces are 
constructed near together, are heated by the 
escape gases without extra expense of fuel, 
and they furnish steam to the engines, which 
are usually placed below them. On account 
of the enormous volume of air, and the 
great pressure at which it is blown into the 



furnace, the engines are of the most power- 
ful kind, and the blowing cylinders are of 
great dimensions and strength. Some of 
the large anthracite furnaces employ cylin- 
ders 7h feet diameter, and 9 feet stroke. One 
of these running at the rate of 9 revolutions 
per minute, and its piston acting in both di- 
rections, should propel every minute 7,128 
cubic feet of air (less the loss by leakage) 
into the furnace — a much greater weight than 
that of all the other materials introduced. 
It is, moreover, driven in at a pressure (pro- 
duced by the contracted aperture of the 
nozzle of the tuyeres in relation to the great 
volume of air) of 7 or 8 lbs. upon the square 
inch. Two such cylinders answer for a pair 
of the largest furnaces, and should be driven 
by separate engines, so that in case of acci- 
dent the available power may be extended to 
either or both furnaces. It is apparent that 
the engines, too, should be of the largest class 
and most perfect construction ; for the blast 
is designed to be continued with only tem- 
porary interruptions that rarely exceed an 
hour at a time, so long as the hcartli may 
remain in running order — a period, it niaj' be, 
of 18 months, or even 4 or 5 years. Fur- 
naces were formerly built against a high bank, 
upon the top of which the stock of ore and 
coal was accumulated, and thence carried 
across a bridge, to be delivered into the 
tunnel-head or mouth of the furnace. Tlie 
more common arrangement at present is to 
construct, a little to one side, an elevator, 
provided with two platforms of suflScient 
size to receive several barrows. The moving 
power is the weight of a body of water let 
into a reservoir under the platform when it 
is at the top. This being allowed to descend 
with the empty barrows, draws up the other 
platform with its load, and the water is dis- 
charged by a self-regulating valve at the 
bottom. The supply of water is furnished 
to a tank in the top either by pumps con- 
nected with the steam engine or by the head 
of its source. 

The furnaces of the United States, though 
not congregated together in such large num- 
bers as at some of the great establishments 
in England and Scotland, are unsurpassed in 
the perfection of their construction, apparatus, 
and capacity ; and none of large size are prob- 
ably worked in any part of Europe with such 
economy of materials. The Sienien's regen- 
erating furnace is adopted in those more 
recently built, wherever an intense heat is 
required for the reduction of the ores. 



34 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



WROUGHT IRON. 

It ha'! been, in the pnst, a just p;rouud of 
comiiLiiiit against the producers of wrouf ,it 
iron and steel, that they could not reduce 
either- directly from the ore — but must go 
through the long and tedious processes of first 
waking pig orcast iron, then eliminating the 
carbon from the c:ist iron by a slill more 
teilious process to produce the wrought iron, 
and then restore a part of the carbon to make 
steel. It was said with truth that the half 
civilized Hindoo tribes and even the barbar- 
ous Fans of West Africa, made tlieir native 
wrought iron (the wootz of India) directly 
from the ore of an excellent cpiality, and by 
a much simpler process than was adopted 
either in Europe or the United States. 

There has been, until within the past fif- 
teen or eighteen years, a spirit strongly ad- 
verse to progress or improvement among 
iron producers. By tlieir rude and wasteful 
processes and their adherence to traditi<.)nal 
methods and tesis, the}' succeeded in making 
a fair though not very uniform quality of 
wrought iron, at a pretty high cost, but they 
deprecated any change even if it were for 
the better. The philosophy and chemistry 
of iron-making were not well understood, 
and the time and way of its '• coming to na- 
ture " a term which conveys the idea of a 
mystery, was a secret which could only be 
learned, it was thought, by some supernatural 
inspiration or some extraordinarj' skill, only 
to be acquired by long experience and care- 
ful observation. 

The Bessemer process, invented and put 
in practice about 1 80 2, first disturbed this 
popular idea; but in its earlier history this pro- 
cess was not entirely free from guess-work and 
the coming-to-nature theory by some sudden 
and unex|)lieable change ; subsequent discov- 
eries and experiments removed this mystery 
entirely, and there is not, to-daj', in practical 
chemistry and metallurgy a more thoroughly- 
defined science than that of making iron 
The iron master, who is fully educated foi 
his business, having before him an accuratv 
analysis of his ores, and knowing, as he can 
if he will, that they are constant in their 
com))osition. proceeds with the utmost cer- 
tainty to add other ores, or to permeate the 
molten ore with atmospheric air, or to force 
additional oxygen through it by means of 
nitrate of soda, nitrate of pot.assa, peroxide 
of iron, or other oxygen-yielding compound, 
or introduces a definite quantity of man- 



ganese, powdered charcoal, or spiegeleisen, 
or in some cases silica, to act as fiux and 
remove the sulphur, phosphorus, or other im- 
inn-ity, and to destroy the excess of carbon, 
lie knows, too, just what heat is requisite, 
and how long it must be continued to pro- 
duce a certain result e^ery time. Here is 
no guess-work, no " rule of thund)," no un- 
certainty. If he requires the best steel for 
rails, he can furnish it of jn'cci-ely standard 
cpiality every time ; if he is producing steel 
fiir the finest cutlerj' he can produce that; if 
he desires a wrought iron which shall be so 
tough and flexible that it can be bent double 
cold without any sym]itoms of flaw or crack, 
he knows just what percentage of the differ- 
ent ores, what eliminating processes, and 
what amount and duration of heat is neces- 
sary to produce it. 

Now, as in the past, there are different 
grades and qualities of cast iron, wrought 
iron, and steel, intended for diflx^rent pur- 
]ioses, made from difterent ores, and possess- 
ing different degrees of tenacity, hardness, 
and ductility ; but the iron-maker who can- 
not produce from a given oi'e, or ores, that 
description of iron which he desires, without 
failure, does not understand his business. 

Cast iron contains, accoiding to the pur- 
pose for which it is intended, from five to 
six and a half per cent of pure carbon, 
either chemically or mechanically combined, 
and except the combination of iron with hy- 
drogen, which is its normal condition, it is 
not the better for any admixture of other 
metals or elements, though for some purposes 
a small percentage of manganese, tungsten, 
or even a little silicon, are not disadvantage- 
ous. As a matter of practical fact, however, 
both sulphur and phosjihorus are usually 
present, though in good samples in very 
small amount. By sulhcieiit care they can 
be almost entirely elimiuntod, and are so in 
the I o^t steel and wrought ii-oa. 

; teel, according to the purpose to which 

•, is to be applied, contains, in chemical com- 

I uination it is believed, from six-tenths to one 

and six-tenths per cent, of carbon, and should 

have no other ingredient. AV'rought iron, 

' apart from its ordinary combination with 

! hydrogen, should be entirely free from sul- 

I phur, phosphorus, or silicon, and though for 

I some purposes, a little manganese, tungsten, 

and a very small percentage of carbon may 

not prove dis.advantageous, yet practically a 

pure iron is preferable to any alloy. Yet it 

is seldom actually free from impurities. 



IRON. 



35 



AVhat is usually denominated pure iron, melts 
■with gieat ditli /ult v and only at a very mucli 
greater heat than either steel or east iron. 
Iiiat;tual prac:ice it is never melted, but when 
the mass attains a pasty or semi-glutinous 
conrlition, it is by one process or another, 
either hammered, pressed, or squeezed till 
the impurities are forced out of it. Abso- 
lutely pure iron, i. e. iron free from hydrogen 
as well as other impurities, is one of the 
rarest mt-tals in the world, and was isolated 
completely for the first time in 18G0. It is 
a white metal very ductile, and tenacious and 
so soft as to be easily cut with a knife. The 
Bessemer proces-i for eliminating the car- 
bon both for producing wrought iron and 
steel, as now conducted, is as follows : A 
quantity of pig iron of some grade whose 
percentage of carbon is known, is melted in 
one or more reverberating furnaces, accord- 
ing to the size of the converting vessel to b^ 
used, which varies in capacity from five to 
twelve tons. When the metal becomes fluid, 
it is run into tlie converting vessel, to which 
is applied a strong lilast of air, which com- 
bini's with the carbon at an intense white 
heat. This is coutiiuied for about eight or 
ten minutes, until the whole of the carbon is 
consumed, when the b'ast is sti)|)i)ed. It is 
now wrought iron, requiring unly to be 
squeezed or hammered tofa-ce out whatever 
impurities there may be in it. If, as is gen- 
erally tlie case, it is deemed desirable to 
make it into the Bessemer s'eel or homoge- 
neous steel or iron, as it is called on the con- 
tinent, a quannty of metal, usually a pure 
pig iron, with a known quantity of carbon, 
is melted and run into the converting vessel 
to furnish carbon in the exact proportion to 
make the quality of steel desired, and this 
combining with t!ie refined iron gives to the 
mass all the properties and cluiracteristics of 
steel. This process, though practically a 
very rapid one, is liable to the objection 
N\'hieli held agiinst the old processes, that 
th-re is a time in the process of eliminating 
the carbon from the pig iron wlien the mass 
of iron has just enough carbon to form good 
steel ; and that by this process that point is 
passed and the wliole of the carbon expelled, 
the mass reduced to the condition of wrought 
iron, and then brought up to the condition 
of steel by the addition of a percentage of 
cast iron. This elimination and restoration 
of the carbon involves waste of time, of heat, 
and of iron ; and hence efforts have been 



made to convert pig iron and iron ore into 
steel bj' a single process. 

Most of the methods proposed and abid'ng 
the test of actual manufacture are intended 
for the reduction of pig iron or ore to steel, 
and so come more properly under tiie head 
of steel ; but a few of them are equally ap- 
plicable to the production of wrought iron. 

Amo.^g these were the ingenious sugges- 
tions of a New York chemist. Prof A. K. 
Eaton, at first applied to the malleable cast 
iron to partially decarbonize it. lie pro- 
posed the use of the native carbonate of zinc 
as a flux to furni-h the oxygen to consume 
the excess of carbon. The objection to this 
process was two-fold — that the zinc com- 
bined in a small proportion with the iron, — 
and that the process was too expensive to be 
successful. He afterward proposed to sub- 
stitute crude soda-ash for the zinc — a sug- 
gestion in the right direction ; for the sodium 
will combine with the sulphur and phospho- 
rus, and thus help to remove the impurities 
from the iron ; but the crude soda ash is too 
uncertain in its composition, too full of im- 
purities, and does not yield its oxygen with 
suHicirnt readiness to be practically the best 
fiux f >r this purpose. 

The process of Messrs. ^Vlielpley & Storer 
seems one of the best of the numerous Ameri- 
can processes. The oxide of carbon, t. e. 
coal gas, half or imperfectl}' burned, is the 
grand agent for making iron and steel from 
all the German and English furnaces, but 
the great difficulty has been to apply the 
])owerful agent in such a way as to reduce 
directly from the ore without going through 
the pig iron manufacture, the wrought or 
bar iron, or steel, and free it from the impu- 
rities which exist more or less in .all ores as 
well as in much of the pig iron. Messrs. 
Whelpley & Storer effect this by means of a 
machi le of their own invention, which is 
really nothing less than the chemist's blow 
pipe on a grand scale. The oxide of carbon 
is generated at the moment of using it upon 
the mass of ore, by the injection of a column 
of hot air carrying an excessively fine dust 
of coal or charcoal. The ore spread out 
upon the floor of a common reverberating 
furnace receives the red hot blast, while it 
is rajiidly stirred by the workman, and pura 
iron in minute grains is produced in any 
desired quantity, from 100 to 2,000 pounds 
or more at a heat. If the mass is balled up, 
squeezed, and passed through roller it ij 



36 



MINING INDUSTEY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



bar iron of superior quality. If the time of 
the process is extended one liour, or even 
less, the iron absorbs carbon from the blast 
and becomes a light sponge of steel, which 
melts in the crucible or steel puddling fur- 
nace, and is cast into ingots of sound and pure 
metal. If continued still longer larger quan- 
tities of carbon are absorbed and the mass is 
converted into cast iron. The steel and cast 
iron as well as the bar iron are of su[)erior 
quality, and remarkable tenacity and strength. 
Steel is made in this process in eight hours 
from crude ore to finished bar ; and bar iron 
in little more than half that time. It is re- 
quisite to the success of the jM-ocess that the 
carbon should be pulverized to an impalpa- 
ble powder of the last degree of fineness, that 
thus infinitely subdivided and blown upon 
the mass it may carry condensed upon its 
surface nearly oxygen enough to consume 
it, and thus produce extreme rapidity, in- 
tensity, and thoroughness of combustion. 
This pulveriz.ation is effected, for the first 
time, by an ingenious machine invented by 
Messrs. AVhelpley & Storer. What Messrs. 
Whelpley& Storer accomplish by their great 
blow-pipe and minute pulverization of car- 
bon, Mr. C. W. Siemens effects in an en- 
tirely different way b}^ his regenerating fur- 
nace ; an apparatus requiring, in the first 
place, a somewhat more extensive .and costly 
structure, but in the end accomplishing the 
same result of producing a rapid and intense 
heat and an atmos])here of oxide of carbon 
with a comparatively small expenditure of 
fuel. The necessity that tiie furnace linings 
should be almost absolutely indestructible by 
the intense heat generated makes the first 
cost of a regenerating furnace very heav}'. 

There are three distinct principles em- 
bodied in the Siemens' furnace, viz: the 
application of gaseous fuel ; the regeneration 
of heat by means of piles of bricks alternately 
passed over by the waste gases and by the 
atmospheric air entering the furnace before 
their combustion ; and the chemical action of 
these gases in combining with the impurities 
of the ore or the pig iron, and in modifying 
the quantity of carbon in combination with 
the iron, for the production of steel. 

The gas [)roducer is a brick chamber of 
convenient size, say six feet wide by twelve 
long, with its front wall inclined at an angle 
of 4,5'^ to 60'^, .according to the nature of the 
fuel used. The inclined plane is solid about 
half way down, and below this it is con- 
structed as a grate with horizontal bars. It 



is what is called a base-burner, the openings 
for introducing the coal being on the top or 
roof of this chamber, and the air which en- 
ters through the grate effects the combustion 
of the coal at the lowest points of the cham- 
ber. The products of this combustion rise 
and are decomposed by the superposed strata 
of coal above them ; they are, moreover, 
mixed with a quantity of steam which is 
drawn in through the grate from a constant 
supply of water maintained underneath the 
latter. The steam in contact with the in- 
candescent coal also decomposes and produ- 
ces hydrogen and carbonic oxide gas, which 
are mixed with the gases produced by the 
coal direct. The whole volume of these 
gases is then conducted to the furnace itself 
by means of wrought iron pipes. The gases 
enter one of the regenerators. The regen- 
erators are chambers packed with fire-bricks, 
which are built up in walls, with interstices 
and air-spaces between them (cob-house fash- 
ion as we sliould say) allowing of a free pas- 
sage of gas around each brick. Each regen- 
erator consists of two adjoining chambers of 
this kind, with air-passages parallel to each 
other, one passage destined for the gaseous 
fuel, and the other for the supply of atmos- 
pheric air required for combustion. Each 
furnace has two such regeneratoi's, and a 
set of valves is provided in the main passa- 
ges or flues, which permit of directing the 
gases from the producer to the bottom of 
either of the two regenerators. The gases 
after passing one regenerator arrive at the 
furnace, where they are mixed with the air 
di-awn in at the same time, and produce a 
flame of great heat and intensity within the 
body of the furnace itself. They then pass, 
after combustion, into the second regenerator 
which forms a set of down flues for the waste 
gases, .and ultimately leads them off into a 
common chimney. On their way from the 
furnace to the cliimney the heated products 
of combustion raise the temperature of the 
fire-bricks, over which they pass, to a very 
high degree, and the gases are so much 
cooled that, at the base of the chimney, they 
do not produce a temperature of much more 
than 300" Fahrenheit. After a certain time 
the fire-bricks close to the furnace obtain a 
temperature almost equal to that of the fur- 
nace itself, and a gr.adually diminishing tem- 
perature exists in the bricks of the regenera- 
tor proportionate to their distance from the 
furnace. At this moment the .attendant, by 
reversing the different valves of the furnace. 



IRON. 



37 



opens the heated regenerator for the entrance 
of the gaseous fuel' and atmospheric air, at 
the same time connecting the other regen- 
erator with the chinniey for taking off tlie 
products of combustion. The entire current 
of gases through the furnace is thus reversed. 
Tlie cold air from tiie atmosphere, and the 
comparatively cold gases from the producer, 
in passing over bricks of gradually increas- 
ing temperature as they approach tlie furnace 
become intensely heated, and when they are 
mixed in the furnace itself, enter into com- 
bustion under the most favorable circumstan- 
ces for the production of an intense heat, often 
rising to 4000° Fahreidieit in the furnace. 
By changing the relative proportion of air 
and gas admitted through the flues, the na- 
ture of the flame may be altered at will. A 
surplus of oxygen from the introduction of 
more than half the volume of atmospheric 
air will produce an oxidizing flame, suited to 
the production of very pure bar iron. By 
the admission of a surplus of gas, on the con- 
trarj', the flame can be made of a reductive 
character and used accordingly for deoxida- 
tion. 

Berard's process for making steel by gas, 
directly from pig iron, or ore, requires the 
Siemens furnace, which he constructs with 
the bottom formed into two parts each hol- 
lowed out like a dish, with a bridge between 
them, upon which the pigs introduced into 
the furnace receive a preliminary heating. 
The flame is maintained with a surplus of 
oxygen, and a quantity of pig iron is melted 
in one of the chambers or dishes. The oxi- 
dizing action of the flame decarbonizes and 
refines the pig iron, and after a certain time 
a second quantity of pigs is thrown into 
the second dish and melted there. The flame 
is now reversed in its direction ; the oxidiz- I 
ing flame is made to enter at tlie side where 
the fresh pig is placed. In passing over this, 
and oxidizing the carbon, silicon, and other 
impurities in the iron, the flame loses its sur- 
plus oxygen, and becomes of a neutral, or at 
least onl}' slightly oxidizing character. In 
this state it passes over the other bath of 
molten iron, now partly refined, and it con- 
tinues to act upon the impurities without at- 
tacking the iron itself. At a certain moment 
this portion of iron is completely converted 
into steel, and that part of the furnace is then 
tapped, so as to make room for a fresh charge 
of pigs in that place. After that, the current 
of gases is again reversed, the second bath j 
now entering into the position previously 



taken by the first, and so the process is car- 
ried on continuously with two portions of 
iron — one freshly introduced and acted upon 
by the oxidizing flame, the other partly con- 
verted into steel and exposed to the neutral 
flame passing away from the first. M. Be- 
rard states that bj' protracting his process, 
and by adding spiegeleisen he can remove 
sulphur and phosphorus from the iron, and 
make steel from inferior pigs. 

The Messrs. Martin of SLreuil, France, 
have, with a Siemens furnace, succeeded in 
melting with pig iron, old iron rails, wrought 
iron scrap, puddled steel, &c., in the propor- 
tion of two-thirds old rails to one-third pig 
iron, and have made from the compound an 
excellent and low-priced steel for rails. 

Mr. Siemens himself patented, in 1868, 
and has since that time worked, a process for 
making natural or " raw" steel directly from 
the ore by means of a modification of his 
furnace. This can onlj' be done successfully 
it is said by the use of the purest and best 
ores. Of other processes we may mention 
that of Mr. James Henderson, an eminent 
founder, of Brooklyn, N. Y., who, using the 
Bessemer process, has improved it by charg- 
ing the blast furnace with a mixture of iron 
and Manganese ores, or any of the INIanga- 
niferous iron ores, thus incorporating the 
indispensable manganese, and causing it to 
exert its beneficial influence in purifying and 
refining the iron, at the beginning, instead 
of the end of the pneumatic process. 

Mr. John Ileaton of Nottingham, England, 
has been successful in oxidizing and remov- 
ing the carbon and other impurities with 
great rapidity by the use of nitrate of soda 
with the molten metal in the following way : 
The '• converter " consists of a large wrought 
iron pot, lined with fire clay ; into the bot- 
tom of this a suitable quantity (about 6 per 
cent, usually of the weight of the pig iron or 
ore), of crude nitrate of soda combined with 
silicious sand, is introduced, and the whole 
covered with a cast-iron perforated plate. 
The molten pig is then poured in and in 
about two minutes the reaction commences ; 
at first, brown nitrous flimes are evolved, 
and after a lapse of five or six minutes, a 
violent deflagration occurs attended with a 
loud roaring noise, and a burst from the top 
of the chimney of brilliant yellow flame, 
which, in about a minute and a half subsides 
as rapidly as it commenced. When all has 
become tranquil the converter is detached 
fi'om the cliimney and its contents emptied 



38 



MINING INDUSTUY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



upon the iron pavement of the foundry. The 
steel thus produced is pronounce<l by eminent 
metallurgists of excellent quality and prac- 
tically free from impurities (the sodium com- 
bining with the sulphur and pliosphonis), 
and it was satisfactorily demoustrated tliat 
uniformity of quality was attainable. The 
process is much more rapid than any other, 
but -Mr. Bessemer asserts that the addition of 
the nitrate of soda makes the cost of a ton of 
steel about five dollars more than by liis 
method. Mr. Ilargreaves has patented a 
modification of this process, combining the 
nitrate of soda willi hematite ore to form a 
paste, and claims that lie thus obtains addi- 
tional supply of oxygen. He states that he 
can make refined iron for puddling by the 
use of about 3 per cent, of nitraie of soda 
and six per cent, of hematite ; steel by eight 
to ten per cent, of nitrate of soda and an 
equal weight of binoxide of manganese, and 
the best quality of wrought iron. 

JMr F. Kolin, an P^nglish steel manufac- 
turer, had, in 1868, made use of the Siemens 
regenerating furnace by a new process, melt- 
ing a gi\en quantity of the best and finest 
wrought iron in a bath of molten cast iron, 
carried to the highest heat of that furnace 
and thus making a pure steel at one heat 
without ])uddling or cementation. By his 
process old railroad iron, scrap iron, and ^crap 
steel, can be converted at once into steel of 
the best quality for rails. 

A Mv. Wilson, of Stockton-on-Tees, Eng- 
land, has patented a modification of the Sie- 
mens furnace which attains the same object 
with a still greater saving of fuel, by forcing 
air into the flue-bridge by a steam-jet, and 
causing it to pass into a conduit at the back 
of the furnace, and thence into the flame- 
bridge and up into a chamber from which, in 
a red-liol condition, it passes into and on to 
tjie iiieanilesceiit fuel. By this improvement 
there is no necessity of grate-bars to the fur- 
nace, most of the fettling is saved, the steam 
from the heated water is at once decomposed 
and adds its quota to tlie intensity of the heat 
which burns up all tiie smoke an<l nearly all 
the cinder and slag. The saving in fuel is 
said to be about one-third over the Siemens 
furnace, and the heat is all applied directly 
to the removal of impurities and slag from 
the ores and cast iron. 

The Shoenberger Junta TTorks, at Pitts- 
burgh, Pa., have patented a method of mak- 
ing refined iron and steel by a new process 
which is both simple and ingenious, melting 



in a blast furnace a quantity of crude cast 
iron of whatever quality they may have, they 
run it into a large kettle of a capacity of five 
tons and thence from it in a stream about a 
foot wide into a circular revolving troogli, 
twelve inches wide and ten inches deep and 
let fall upon the molten inet.nl from a hopper, 
pulverized iron ore. Lake Superior, Cham- 
plain, or Iron mountain, in sufficient quantity 
to cover the melted metal as fast as it is 
poured in. When the trough is full, and 
before the iron cools, it is broken up into 
slabs of suitable size for a heating furnace, 
when it is only necessary to heat it as blooms 
are heated, and put it through the machinery 
to produce the best qualitv of horse-shoe bars, 
or by a slight variation of the process, ex- 
cellent steel. 

Mr. David Stewart, of Kittaniny, Pa., has 
patented a method of freeing cast iron from 
its carbon, sulphur, phosphorus, &c., by pour- 
ing the molted metal at full heat from a 
height of perliaps thirty feet in a thin stream 
or shower upon the ground in such a way as 
that it shall receive the action of atmospheric 
air over its entire surface, or if preferred, 
through a cylinder thirty feet or more in 
height, and open at both ends, into which air 
is constantly forced. He claims to have 
tested this process very thoroughly and to be 
capable of making pure iron or steel by it 
without puddling and without retaining any 
cinder or impurities. Messrs. J. U. Bradley 
and M. D. Brown of Chicago, 111., patented 
in 1868 eight recipes of ingredients to be 
added to melted scrap or malleable iron 
which they claimed would produce in each 
case the precise kind of steel wanted, and of 
the best quality. A Mr. J. Edwin Sherman, 
formerly a blacksmiih of ]5ucksport. Me., but 
more recently a Government clerk at Wa^h- 
ington, D. C, is s.aid to have hit upon a 
method of converting iron into steel of great 
simplicity and chea.pness, and, in the autumn 
of 1870, went by invitation lo England to hay 
his process before the lords of the Admii ally. 

Among the most remarkable discoveries 
of the present day, in relation to the manu- 
fticture of iron, we must count those by which 
iron ores, hitherto regarded as worthless, have 
proved either by new processes or by mix- 
ture with other ores, or with cast iron, the 
best of all factors for producing the purest 
wrought iron and steel. Thus far there are 
two of these instances worthy of special no- 
tice. In the township of North Codorus, 
York Co., Pa., there are extensive beds of a 



IRON. 



39 



peculiar micaceons iron ore ; some of which 
were opened in 1854 or 1855, and attempts 
were made to make iron from them, but tlie 
ore contained but 41.5 per cent, of magnetic 
iron, and its reduction, owing to its peculiar 
combination, was attended with much laltor 
and no protit ; the ore beds were therefore 
abandoned. In 18G8, it was discovered by 
accident that this unpromising ore, mixed 
with cast or pig iron of ordinary quality in 
the proportion of one to five or six in a re- 
verberating furnace, produced by the ordin- 
ary pu<ldling process, a pure steel of admira- 
ble (piality ami remarkably uniform in char- 
acter. Ila\ing tested this by a very great 
number of experiments the discoverers pur- 
chased the Codorus ore beds, and put up a 
puddling furnace and rolling mill at York to 
carry on the business of making steel for 
railway rails, and other purposes. The an- 
alysis of the Codorus ore, as made by the 
eminent practical chemist, Otto Wurth, of 
Pittsburg, is as follows : 

Silica, 37.35 Potash, 1.87 

Alumina, 3.21 Magnetic Iron, 41. .'57 

Manganese, 4.45 Peroxide of Iron, 10.46 

Lime, .74 Water and LoiS, .35 



100.06 
Further experiments, conducted under the 
eye (f the veteran iron master, J. N. Wins- 
low, satisfied the owners of the ore that they 
could safely dispense with the puddling pro- 
cess and [)roiluce directly from the ore and 
cast iron the very best quality of steel. We 
have ourselves examined the steel and the 
wrought iron produced by this combination, 
and in every test to wliich it can be subject- 
ed, wliether of tenacity, tensile strength, 
hardness, elasticity, or capacity of receiving 
and retaining the highest temper, it is unsur- 
passed by any steel or iron known to manu- 
facturers. Whether wrought iron and steel 
can be made without puddling from a com- 
bination of this ore with other ores of good 
quality has not yet been ascertained, but we 
believe that it will. By the processes at 
present employed, the best of steel can be 
made with the use of fifteen or twenty per 
cent, of this ore at a cost of not above $70 
or S75 per ton, and possibly lower. 

Of the other ore, found at Port Leyden, 
Lewis Co., N. Y., still more remarkable 
things are stated. The following account 
of the ores and process of reduction, made in 
the New York Tribune, is believed to be 
fully authenticated. The steel is certainly 
of excellent quality 
*3 



" The discovery of an inexhaustible bed 
of iron ore at Port Leyden, Lewis County, 
about 40 miles above Utica, a few years ago, 
tempted citizens of the latter-named place to 
invest about $500,000 in the efibrt to estab- 
lish the manufacture of iron there. The 
' Port Leyden Iron Works ' were a sad ftiil- 
ure, and the entire amount of money invested 
in them was lost, as pig iron could not be 
produced from the ore. From this impracti- 
cable ore, steel is now produced, at one fus- 
ion, by a process invented by Prof. E. L. 
Seymour, a metallurgist and chemist, who 
resides in this vicinity. The outlines of the 
process are as follows : The ore is crushed, 
in something like-an ordinary quartz-crusher, 
until it is reduced to about the fineness of 
rifle powder. It is then thrown into a re- 
volving cylinder, in which are set numer- 
ous magnets. The ore is of the kind known 
as ' magnetic' By an arrangement oi small 
brushes, the metallic particles are separated 
from the refuse, which is principally stony 
and earthy matter in the shape of fine dust. 
The application of certain chemicals and 
fusion by charcoal are the next steps in the 
process, and the immediate product is pure 
steel, ready for mokling into 'ingots. Speci- 
mens of steel thus manufactured and con- 
verted into finely-tempered table cutlery, 
and other articles, and the certificate of a 
well-known cutler of Brooklyn, who made 
the articles, that it is as good steel as he ever 
worked, and adapted to all cutlery purposes, 
have been exhibited. The estimated cost of 
this steel is less than four cents. By the 
Seymour process, it is claimed that the aim 
of iron-masters and chemists for the last 200 
years is accomplished — viz : to rid iron of 
its arch enemies, sulphur and pliosphorus — 
the former rendering the metal what is tech- 
nically called ' red-short,' so that it flies to 
pieces under the hammer when at a red heat, 
though it may be quite strong when cold ; 
while the least quantity of phosphorus ren- 
ders the metal ' cold-short,' making it weak 
and brittle when cold, though quite strong 
when hot. 

" The Port Leyden AVorks are about one- 
eighth of a mile from the railroad and the 
canal. The buildings, fiu'naces, etc., were 
erected several years ago at great expense ; 
and for some time there have lain in the 
forest near by nearly 100,000 bushels of 
charcoal, the overplus of what was made be- 
fore it was found that iron could not be pro- 
duced from the ore by the old processes." 



40 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



It has recently been discovered that there 
are extensive veins of a peculiar coal, called 
block coal in Indiana, which is remarkably 
adapted to the production of the best iron. 
In its constituents and its working, it is very 
nearly a pure charcoal and containing nei- 
ther sulphur nor pliospiiorus, it does not im- 
part to iron in tlie smelting process any in- 
gredient which impairs its value. These 
veins of block coal are of great thickness, 
and extend widely over the central and 
southern part of the state. It has not thus 
far been discovered in any other state. In- 
diana has no great variety of iron ores, but 
her railroad facilities present, and prospec- 
tive, for bringing the Missouri ores from 
Pilot Knob and Iron Mountain and the rich 
hematitic ores from tlie Lake Superior re- 
gion in Mich'gan, are such that with this 
excellent coal, her citizens can manufacture 
the finest qualities of inm and steel at con- 
siderably lower prices than they can be pro- 
duced for, elsewhere. As a consequence 
numerous furnaces have been erected in 
1870 and 1871, along the line of the block 
coal veins, and many more are now going 
up. Tlie improved |)rocesses and new discov- 
eries to which we jjave alluded, while they 
will materially reduce the cost of making 
tteel, do not, thus far, greatly lower the cost 
of producing iion, exce]it in Indiana, .and 
hence the reduction of ten per cent, on iron 
and iron manufactures m the new tariff of 
1.S72, may impede the progress of this de- 
sirable manufacture, now fast attaining to 
the first rank among our national produc- 
tions. 

rhough the total production of pig iron 
each year is now very definitely ascertained, 
there is more difficulty in learning the de- 
tails of the oilier branches of iron manufac- 
ture. The rolling mills are really unceasing 
in numbers and in their aggregate production 
of rails lioth iron and steel, but the re-roll- 
ing of old r.ails is a large and yet very vari- 
able item in their annual amount of work, 
and it is difficult to a.'^certain with any con- 
siderable exactness what number of tons of 
new rails are producetl by each mill. The 
aggregate product in 1871 was stated in 
round numbers at about 275,000 tons of 
iron and 180,000 tons of steel rails. This 
latter item will, undoubtedly, be largely 
increased during the present and coming 
years. 

Sheet Iron. — For making sheet iron the 



bars are gradually spread out between smooth 
rolls, which arc brought nearer together as 
tlie metal grows thinner. The Russians have 
a method of giving to sheet iron a beautifully 
polished surf^ice, and a pliability and dura- 
bility which no other people have been able 
to imitate. All attempts that have been 
made to learn the secret of this process have 
entirely failed, and the business remains a 
monopoly with the Russians. The nearest 
imitation of this iron is produced at I'itts- 
burg, Pennsylvania, and several eastern estab- 
lishments, by what is called Wood's process. 
This consists in rolling the common sheet at 
a certain temperature while it is covered 
with linseed oil. A very fine surface is thus 
produced, but the pliability and toughness 
of the Russian iron are wanting, even though 
the sheets are often annealed in close vessels, 
and the glaze and color are also inferior. 
Sheet iron is now extensively prepared for 
roofing, and other uses requiring exposure to 
the weather, by protecting its surface with a 
coating of zinc. This application is an 
American invention, having been discovered 
in 1827, by the late I'rof'john W. Revere, 
of New York. In .March, 1859, he exhibited, 
at a meeting of the Lyceum of Natural His- 
tory, specimens of iron thus protected, which 
had been exposed for two years to the action 
of salt water without rusting. He recom- 
mended it as a means of protecting the iron 
fastenings of ships, and introduced the proc- 
ess into Great Britain. Sheets thus coated 
are known as galvanized iron, though the 
iron is now coated with zinc by other means 
as well as by the galvanic current. One 
method, that of Mallet, is to place the 
sheets, after they are well cleaned by acid 
and scrubbed with emery and sand, in a satu- 
rated solution of liydrochlorate of zinc and 
sulphate of ammonia; and after this in a 
bath composed of 202 parts of niercurv and 
1,292 of zinc, to every ton weight of which 
a pound of potassium or sodium is added. 
The compound fuses at 680° Fahrenheit, 
and the zinc is immediately deposited upon 
the iron surface. Another method is to stir 
the sheets in a bath of melted zinc, the sur- 
face of which is covered with sal ammoniac. 
The use of heavy sheets or plates for build- 
ing purposes is also a recent application of 
iron, that adds considerably to the demand 
for the metal. The plates are stiffened by 
the fluting, or corrugating, which they re- 
ceive in a powerful machine, and may be 
protected by a coating of zinc. Their prep- 



IRON. 



41 



aration is larijely carried on in Philadelphia ; 
and in the same works a great variety of 
other articles of malleable iron, for domestic 
and other uses, arc similarly protected with 
zinc, as window shutters, water and gas 
pipes, coal scuttles, chains for pumps, bolts 
for ships' use, hoop iron, and telegraph and 
other wire. 

Tlie production of the principal boiler-plate 
and sheet iron establishments of the United 
States is thus given for the year 1856 : — 

Tens. 
East of the Delaware there are but twoinills, 
both of wliioh are in Jersey City. Product 

in 1856 ." 550 

In K. Peuusylvauia, on the ScliuylkiU and 

lower w>usquehaun;i, '25 mills 21.218 

Near Wiluiiii^ton, Delaware, 3 mills 1,374 

Between Wilmington and Baltimore, 1 mills. 2,998 
Pittsburg, Penn.. 14 mills. Sheet iron. 6,437; 
boiler iron, 3,212; be.sides bars, rod.s, hoops, 

and nails 9,649 

Sheet iron atthe Sharon mill, MercerCo. Penn. 500 
Bloom mill, Portsmouth, S. Ohio, and Globe 

mill, Cincinnati, about 2,000 

38,289 
A mill for boiler plate has been erected at St. Louis. 

Iron Wire. — The uses of iron wire have 
greatly increased within a few years past. 
The telegraph has created a large demand 
for it ; and with the demand the manufac- 
ture has been so much improved, especially 
in this country, that the wire has been found 
applicable to many purposes for which brass 
or copper wire was before required. It is 
prepared from small rods, which are passed 
throufrh a succession of holes, of decreasing 
sizes, made in steel plates, the wire being 
annealed as often as may be necessary to 
prevent its becoming brittle. In this branch 
the American maimfacturers liave attained 
the highest perfection. The iron prepared 
from our magnetic and specular ore is un- 
equalled in the combined qualities of strength 
and flexibility, and is used almost exclusively 
for purposes in which those qualities are es- 
sential. But where stiffness combined with 
strength is more important, Swedish and 
Norwegian iron also are used. Much of the 
iron wire now made is almost as pliable as 
copper wire, while its strength is about 50 
per cent, greater. In Worcester, Mass., a 
large contract has been satisfactorily filled 
for No. 10 wire, one of the conditions of 
which was that the wire, when cold, might 
be tightly wound around .another wire of the 
same size without cracking or becoming 
rouffh on the surface. Such wire is an ex- 



cellent material for ropes, and considerable 
American iron is already required for this 
use, especially for suspension bridges. AVires 
are also used for fences, and are ingeniously 
woven into ornamental patterns. The so- 
called " netting fence," thus made, can be 
rolled up like a carpet. For heavier railing 
and fences, as for the front yards of houses, 
for balconies, window guards, etc., iron bars 
and rods are now worked into ornamental 
open designs, by powerfully crimping them 
and weaving them together like wires. 

Nails — Among the multitude of other 
itnportant applications of malleable iron, that 
of nail making is particularly worthy of no- 
tice, as being in the machine branch of it — 
the preparation of cut nails — entirely an 
American process. Our advance in this de- 
partment is ascribed to the great demand for 
nails among ns in the construction of wooden 
houses. In England, even into the present 
century, nails were wrought only by hand, 
employing a large population. In the vi- 
cinitv of Birmingham it was estimated that 
60,000 persons were occupied wholly in nail 
making. Females and children, as well as 
men, worked in the shop, forging the nails 
upon anvils, from the "split iron rods" fur- 
nished for the purpose from the neighboring 
iron works. The contrast is very striking 
between their operations and those of the 
great establishments in Pennsylvania, con- 
sisting of the blast furnaces, in which the 
ores are converted into pig ; of the puddling 
furnaces, in which this is made into wrought 
iron ; of the rolling and slitting mills, by 
which the malleable iron is made into nail- 
plates ; and of the nail machines, which cut 
up the plates and turn them into nails — all 
going on consecutively under the same roof, 
and not allowing time for the iron to cool 
until it is in the finished state, and single 
establishments producing more nails than the 
greater part of the workshops of Birming- 
ham fifty years ago. Public attention was 
directed to machine-made nails as long ago 
as 1810, by a report of the secretary of the 
treasury, in which he referred to the success 
already attained in their manufacture in Mas- 
sachusetts. " Twenty years ago," he states, 
" some men, now unknown, then in ob- 
scurity, began by cutting slices out of old 
hoops, and, by a common vice gripping these 
pieces, headed them with several strokes of 
the hammer. By progressive improvements, 
slitting mills were built, and the shears and 
the heading tools were perfected, yet much 



42 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



labor and expense were requisite to make 
nails. In a little time, Jacob Perkins, Jona- 
than Jlllis, and a few others, put into execu- 
tion the thought of cutting and of heading 
nails by water ; but being more intent upon 
their macliinery than upon their pecuniar}' 
affairs, they were unable to prosecute the 
business. At different times other men have 
epent fortunes in improvements, and it may 
be said with truth that more than a million 
of dollars have been expended ; but at length 
these joint efforts are crowned with com- 
plete success, and we are now able to manu- 
facture, at about one-third of the expense 
that wrought nails can be manufactured for, 
nails which are superior to them for at least 
three-fourths of the purposes to which nails 
are applied, and for most of those purposes 
they are full as good. The machines made 
use of by Odiorne, those invented by Jona- 
than Ellis, and a few others, present very 
fine specimens of American genius." The 
report then describes the peculiar character 
of the cut nail — that it was used by northern 
carpenters without their having to bore a 
hole to prevent its splitting the wood ; that 
it would penetrate harder wood than the 
wrought nail, etc. At that time, it states, 
there were twelve rolling and slitting mills 
in Massachusetts, chietly employed in rolling 
nail plates, making nail rods, hoops, tires, 
sheet iron, and copj>er, and turning out about 
3,500 tons, of which about 2,400 tons were 
cut up into nails and brads. From that time 
to the present the manufacture of nails by 
machinery has been a profitable branch of 
industry in the south-eastern part of Massa- 
chusetts, the iron and the coal being fur- 
nished from the middle Atlantic states, and 
the nails, in great part, finding a market 
at the south. The following table presents 
the number of nail mills in operation in 
1856. The smaller establishments are grad- 
ually going out of the business, and tiiis is 
becoming more concentrated in the coal and 
iron regions, thus saving the cost of trans- 
portation in these heavy articles. The man- 
ufacturers of New England, however, ingeni- 
ously divert a part of their operations to the 
production of smaller articles, with which 
the cost of transportation is a less item in 
proportion to their value, such as tacks, riv- 
ets, screws, butts, wire, and numerous fin- 
ished articles, the value of wliich consists 
more in the labor performed upon them and 
in the use of ingenious machinery than in 
the cost of the crude materials employed. 



NAIL FACTORIES IN THE UNITED STATES, AND TBEIR PRO- 
DLICTION IN IS.'jtJ. 

Tons. 
In south New England, 12 mills, nails prin- 
cipally 25,000 

Troy, New York 4,000 

Rockaway, Boonton, New Jersey, nails and 

spikes ' 8,250 

Soulliern New Jersey 4,167 

On llie Scliuylkill. 5 mills, about 9,000 

On tlie lower Susqueliaima, 2 mills, about.. . 2,600 

Middle Pennsylvania, 2 n;ills, about 2.000 

Maryland, 2 mills 2,155 

Richmond, 1 mill- 1,07 5 

Piltslmrp, 14 mills, nails, spikes, rivets, tacks 14,195 

Wheeling, 2 mills 6,465 

Ironton, southern Ohio, 1 mill 775 

Mahoning Co., N. K. Ohio, 1 mill 380 

Buffalo 1,400 

Total 81,462 

The number of nail machines employed in these 
mills was 2,645. 

A great variety of machines have been 
devised for nail making, very ingenious in 
their designs, and all too complicated for 
description. The iron is rolled out into bars 
for this manufacture, of 10 or 12 feet in 
length, and wide enough to make three or 
more strips, each one of which is as wide as 
the length of the nail it is to make. The 
cutting of these strips from the wider bars 
is the special work of the slitting mill, which 
is, in fact, but a branch of the rolling opera- 
tion, and carried on in conjunction witli it. 
The slitting machine consists of a pair of 
rolls, one above the other, each having 5 or 
6 steel disks upon its axis, set as far apart as 
the width required for the nail-rod. Those 
upon one roll interlock with those upon the 
other, so that when the wide bar is intro- 
duced it is pressed into the grooves above 
and below, and cut into as many strips as 
there are spaces between the disks. This 
work is done with wonderful iaj)idity, several 
bars being passed through at once. In the 
nail factory each nail-making machine works 
upon one of these strips, or nail-rods, at a 
time, first clipping ott' a piece from the end 
presented to it, and ininicdiately another, as 
the flat rod is turned over and the end is 
again presented to the cutter. The reason 
of turning it over for each succes.sive cut is 
because the piece cut off for the nail is 
tapering, in order to make it a little wider 
at the end intended for the head than at the 
other, and thus, making the wider cut on al- 
ternate sides of the rod, this is regularly 
worked up into pieces of the proper shape. 
In the older operations a workman always 
sat in front of each machine, holding the 



IRON. 



43 



rod and turning it over with every clip; but 
by a modern improvement this work is alsii 
done by mechanical contrivance. Eacli 
piece, as fast as it is clipped oft", disappears 
in the machine. There it is seized between 
powerful jaws, and the bead is pressed up 
from the large end by the short, powerful 
motion imparted to the piece of apparatus 
called the header. As it is released, it slides 
down and di'ops upon the floor, or in a vessel 
placed to receive the nails. 

Machinery has been applied in the United 
States to tlie manufacture of horse-shoe nails, 
according to a number of patented plans. 
Of these, tiie most successful is probably that 
invented about the year 1848, by Mr. L. G. 
Reynolds, of Providence ; also the inventor 
of the solid-he.adod pin. The form of this 
nail could not be given as in ordinary cut 
nails by the cutter, but the sides required to 
be pressed as well as the head. This in- 
volved the use of movable plates of suitable 
figure ; and as it was found that the nails 
could not be shaped except when the metal 
was softened by heat, the plates must neces- 
sarily be of the hardest steel, and protected 
as cll'octually as possible from the effects of 
constant working of heated iron. These 
difficulties were fully overcome, and tlie 
nails, after being turned out, were toughened 
bv annealing, givinn; them all the excellent 
qualities of iiand-made nails, with the ad- 
vantage of perfect uniformity of size, so that 
one nail answers as well as another for the 
holes in the horse-shoes. They are, more- 
over, made with great rapidity, each machine 
producing half a ton of nails in 12 hours. 
The process has been taken to Europe, and 
is there in successful operation. Spikes, also, 
liave been made ami headed in similar ma- 
chines ; and among all small articles in iron, 
none, perhaps, has proved so profitable to 
the inventor as the liook-headed spike, used 
for holding down, by its projecting head, the 
edge of the iron rails to the sill. This was 
the invention of Mr. Henry liurden, of Troy, 
whose machines for wrought-iron spikes and 
fir horse-shoes have also proved very success- 
ful. By the latter, perfect shoes are turned 
out at the rate of 60 in a minute. This proc- 
ess has been introduced in most of the 
European countries. 



As already remarked, steel differs in com- 
position from metallic iron only by contain- 
ing from i to li per cent, of carbon, and 



from cast-iron by the latter containing a 
larger proportion of carbon, which may 
amount to 5.5 per cent. To readily convert 
these varieties into each other is an object 
of no small importance, for their properties 
are so entirely distinct, that they really serve 
the purposes of three difl'erent metals. Steel 
is particularly valuable for its extreme hard- 
ness, fine (Train, and compact texture, which 
admits of its receiving a high polish. It is 
the most elastic of metals, and mucli less 
liable to rust than iron. It has the peculiar 
property of assuming different degrees of 
hardness, according to the rapidity with 
which it is chilled when heated ; and it may 
be melted and run into moulds like cast iron, 
and the ingots thus prepared may be ham- 
mered, rolled, and forged into shapes like 
wrought iron ; and these may finally be tem- 
pered to any degree of hardness desired. 
Dift'ering so little in composition from me- 
tallic iron and from cast iron, and being 
so universally in demand for a multitude of 
uses, it would seem that it ought to be pro- 
duced as cheaply as one or the other of the 
varieties, between which its composition 
places it. But this is far from being the 
case. While pig iron is worth only $20 to 
$.')0 per ton, and bar iron $60 to $90, ca.st 
steel in bars is worth from $250 to $300 per 
ton. This is chiefly owing to the difficulty 
of procuring in large quantities steel of uni- 
form character, which the consumers of the 
article can purchase with perfect confidence 
that it is what they require and liave been 
accustomed to use. The English boast, with 
good reason, of the position they occupy in 
this manufacture, which is almost a monopoly 
of the steel trade of the whole world. Though 
producing themselves little or no iron fit lor 
making alone the best steel, they have im- 
ported enough of the Swedish and Norwe- 
gian bar iron to insure a good quality, and 
have been especially cautious to render this 
as uniform as possible. Their method of 
manufacture is to introduce carbon into the 
wrought iron by what is called the cementing 
process. On the continent of Europe steel 
is made to some extent, in Silesia and Styria, 
by removing from cast iron enough of its 
carbon to leave the proper proportion for 
steel, and then melting the product and cast- 

in<r it into in^ot moulds. But this cheaper 

111 
method does not appear to have been taken 

up in Great Britain. In the United States 

several processes are in operation, two of 

which are peculiarly American. The ce- 



44 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



menting method, as conducted in England, 
has been longest known, and will be first de- 
scribed. The cementing furnace is a sort of 
oven, furnished with troughs or shelves, upon 
which cliarcoal dust is laid for receiving the 
bars. These are placed edgewise in the 
charcoal, half an inch apart, and the spaces 
arc filled in with more sifted coal. Enough 
is added to cover the bars, and upon this a 
second tier is laid in the same way, and so 
on till the trough is filled with several tons 
of iron, all of whicli is perfectly excluded 
from the air. The trough being secured 
with others in the oven, a fire is started 
under them. In about six days the bars 
Lave absorbed enough carbon to acquire the 
properties of the softer kinds of steel, such 
a-s are used for saws and springs. In a day 
or two longer it answers for cutting instru- 
ments, and some time after this it gains in 
hardness, so as to be fitted for cold chisels, 
for drills such as miners use, etc. Its 
character is ascertained at any time by 
drawing out one of the bars. After the 
change is ett'ected the fire is oxtinguislied, 
and about a week is allowed for the furnace 
and its contents to cool. When at last the 
bars are obtained, their surface is found to be 
covered with blisters, whence the steel is 
called blistered steel. The fibrous texture 
of the iron lias given place to a granular 
structure, but is so irregular and uneven that 
the metal requires further treatment to per- 
fect it. To make the English sliear-steel, so 
called from its being originally employed for 
shears used in sheep-shearing, the bars are 
cut into lengths of a foot and a half, and 
a number of these are bound together to 
make a faggot. This is brouglit to a weld- 
ing heat, and drawn down first under a forge- 
hammer, and then under the tilt-hammer. 
This weighs from 150 to 200 pounds, and 
strikes from 150 to 360 strokes a minute. 
The rapidity of the work keeps the steel at 
a glowing heat, and it is soon fashioned into 
a dense bar of smooth surface, susceptible 
of a polish, and suited for the manufacture 
of cutting instruments. Soinetimos it is cut 
into pieces to be refuggoted, and drawn down 
again into bars, which are then called double- 
shear. 

Cast steel is a still more dense and perfect 
variety. It is prepared by melting, in large 
crucibles, blistered steel broken into small 
pieces, and pouring the metal into moulds. 
These are then worked into shapes by the 
forge hammer and the rolls. 



The American methods of making steel 
were discovered by Prof. A. K. Eaton, of 
New York, and the one now employed by the 
Damascus Steel Company was practically 
demonstrated by liim in liochester and its vi- 
cinity in 1851 and 1852. This consists in car- 
bonizing and melting malleable iron in cruci- 
bles at one operation, by introducing into the 
pot with the pieces of iron a carbonaceous salt, 
such as the ferro-cyanide of potassium, either 
ah>ne or in combination with charcoal powder. 
At an intense heat this salt rapidly carbon- 
izes the iron, wliich thus first becomes steel, 
then fuses, and is poured into moulds. The 
quantity of the salt employed is proportional 
to the quantity of the iron and the quality 
of the steel required. The operation is suc- 
cessfully carried on in difl'erent establish- 
ments in New Jersey, New York, and Penn- 
sylvania, and cast steel of the very best 
quality is produced at less expense than the 
article has ever before cost in this country. 
For bar steel, according to the prospectus of 
the company, the best charcoal-made iron is 
employed, costing |>86 per ton, and this, to- 
gether with the coal used for fuel, the cliem- 
ical materials, the melting, crucibles, and 
hammering, make the whole cost about $142 
per ton, while that of the imported article is 
i>300 or more. The great difficulty in the 
process is to obtain suitable crucibles for 
withstanding the intense heat required to 
melt the charge of 60 lbs. of malleable iron. 
Those in use are blue-pots, costing $1.60 
each. Though made of the best of plum- 
bago, they stand only two or three meltings. 

The other process, which is just now in- 
troduced into practice, is based upon the prop- 
erty of carbonate of soda to remove from cast 
iron the carbon it contains, when the metal is 
kept for a few hours in a bath of the melted 
alkali. The decarbonizing ett'ect is in part due 
to the action of the oxygon of the alkaline 
base, which is given up to the carbon of highly 
heated cast iron, but principally to the decom- 
position of the combined carbonic acid, which 
gives to the carbon one of its atoms of oxygen, 
and is resolved into carbonic oxide. This prop- 
erty of soda was discovero<l by Prof. Eaton in 
1856, but the fact that the carbonated or bi- 
carbonated alkalies act principally by virtue 
of their carbonic acid, was only recently rec- 
ognized and made practically available by 
him. The action of soda or its carbonates is 
not limited to the removal of the excess of 
carbon in ca.st iron. It combines with and 
removes those impurities which would prove 



45 



fatal to the quality of the steel if remaining 
in it, as sulphur, phosphorus, and silicon ; 
and the method thus admits of the use of 
crude irons, such as could never be applied 
to this manufacture by an}- other mode. 
The cast iron, in the form of thin plates, hav- 
ing been kept at a bright red heat in the 
bath of melted carbonate for a sufficient time, 
■which is determined by occasionally taking 
out and testing some of the pieces, is trans- 
ferred to the crucible, and is then melted 
and poured into moulds, as in the ordinary 
method of making cast steel. The crucibles, 
not being subjected to greater heat than is 
required for melting cast steel, endure much 
longer than when employed for melting 
wrought iron in the carbonizing process ; 
tlms a great saving is etl'ected in the expense 
of the conversion ; and this economy is still 
further increased by the use of a crude ma- 
terial, costing only from 5-20 to $30 per ton, 
in place of the superior qualities of wrought 
iron, worth |i85 per ton. So great, indeed, 
is the saving, that tlie cost of the cast steel, 
when obtained in ingots, is found not to ex- 



ceed the cost of the malleable iron employed 
in the other process. 

Statistics. — The records of the produc- 
tion of iron of the United States arc very in- 
complete up to the year 1854. Even the cen- 
sus returns are highly defective, as they often 
make no distinction between iron made 
from the ore and the products of the second- 
ary operations of remelting and puddling. 
The first systematic attempts to obtain com- 
plete accounts of the business, as conducted 
in Pennsylvania, were made in 1850 by the 
Association of Iron Manufacturers, organized 
in Philadelphia. Mr. Charles E. Smith col- 
lected the returns, and published them in a 
small volume, together with other papers re- 
lating to the manufacture. In 1850 the as- 
sociation, through their secretary, Mr. J. P. 
Lesley, and their treasurer, Mr. C. E. Smith, 
obtained full returns from 832 blast furnaces, 
488 forges, and 225 rolling mills in the Unit- 
ed States, besides others in Canada, exhibit- 
ing their operations for the preceding three 
years. Some of these results are presented 
in the following tables : — 



NO 1.— TABLE OF IRON WORKS IN OPERATION AND ABANDONED IN 1858. 

^^ .*'^'^"f ^ AbftDdoned Bloomary Abandoned Refinery Abandoned Rollins . t . . 
nnd Loke r.„r_.„„. Pure,.,. Bloomaries. Forees. Kefln«i-iea. mj,," Abandoned. 



Anthracite 
Furnaces. 



Maine 

New Hampsliire 

Vermon t 

Massachusetts 3 

Rhode Island 

Connecticut 1 

New York 14 

New Jersey 4 

Pennsylvania 93 

Delaware 

Maryland G 

Virginia 

North Carolina 

South Carolina 

Georgia 

Alabama 

Tennessee 

Kentucky 

Ohio 

Indiana 

Illinois 

Michigan 

Wisconsin 

Missouri 

Arkansas 



Furnaces. 
1 
1 
5 
7 

14 

29 

6 

150 

24 
39 

3 

4 

7 

3 
41 
30 
54 

2 

2 

7 

3 

7 



Furnaces. Forges. Biuomaries. Forges. Kefineries. 



6 

12 

102 

1 

7 

56 

3 

4 

1 

1 

33 

17 

26 

3 



42 

48 
1 



36 

2 

4 

14 

50 



1 

29 
3 



6 

3 

2 

110 



43 



44 



Mills. 
1 

1 
19 

2 

5 
11 
10 
91 

4 
13 
12 

1 

3 

2 



15 
1 
1 
2 



Total 121 439 272 206 35 186 64 210 

In working order, 560 Furnaces, 389 Forges, 210 Rolling Mills. Total, 1,159 
Abandoned, 272 " 99 " 15 " " 386 



16 



In all, 832 " 488 

The production of the blast furnaces in the 
different iron districts for the years 1854, 
1855, and 1856, is exhibited in Table No. 



225 " " 1,545 

2 ; their arrangement being according to tho 
fuel employed and the quantities of iron 
produced in each district in 1856 : — 



46 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



Fuel. 



TABLE NO. 2.— PRODUCTION OF PIG IRON. 
District. 1854. 



Anthracite Pcnnsylvftnia 209.603 

** Out orPcnniiylvania 99.007 

Charcoal and Coke S. Oliin 56,lHl ) -n 

K.Kentucky 22.929)"'' 

" " " W. I'ennsylvania 78 9-'7 I 

' N Oliic. 11,2S9| 

" " " E. I'ennsylvania 62,724 

Charcoiil W Tciini-ssee 37,«18"| 

W K.ntucliy 12,236 

" S. Indiana 1,400 

" 8. Illincris 1,500 

Charcoal and Cdke 9. W. Pennsylvania 11.0.")2 

N.W.Virginia 1,9,30 

" '• " Maryland '80,6.' 

Charcoal E. of the Hudson 30.420 

N. and W. New York 19.197 

" Missouri 7,591 

" 8. New York and N. New Jersey 13,485 

" K. and Middle Virginia ii,SSO 

" North and South Carolina 1.820 

" Oeorgia 2,8915- M56 

" E Tennessee and Alabama. 

" Micliipm 990 

" Wisconsin 



,010 
90.2 IS 



53,054 



■ 12,952 



47.9S2 
Ifi.ISO 
69.SSS 
9,92G 



1855. 

.. 255,826 
87,779 

64,162 



I 69,314 

... 60,596 
33,6831 

1^'"''' I 50 .347 

1,600 j 

36,309 

.... 32,826 
.... 19,736 
.... 10,181 
7,901 
6,926 



1856. 
.... 806,972 
.... 87,587 
T".4''5 I „„ ,,5 

59,597 



17,056 



76,653 
52,775 



• 50,664 



1,820 ) 1,830 1 1,956 1 

2,891 V 6,056 2.715 V 6,061 2.S07 I 

1,845 ( 1,610 2.931 



Total production of pig iron in the United States Tons 

FOR 



725,823 



,061 
9.0 

728,973 



32,16:1 
14,902 

l.,-00 

l.sooj 

^j^} 30.867 

.'. . . .30.993 

. . 29,937 

.... IS,S47 

10.138 

5.6W 
5,730 

7,694 



1,9,56 
2. 

2. 

3,1 78 I 

2,600 ( 



6,178 



812,799 



TABLE NO. S.— DISTKIBUTION OP THE 
NAChS BY .STATES. 

I. ANTHRACITE FURNACES. 

No. States. ^t!!Z^- 

3 Massacluisetts 4,443 

1 Conneclicut 

14 New York 41,257 

4 New Jersey 26, 117 

93 Penn.sylvania 300,1)72 

__G Maryland 10,720 

121 394,609 

II. COKE FURNACES. 

Pennsylvania 39,953 

Miirylaiid 4,528 

44,481 

RAW BITUMINOUS COAL FURNACES. 

Pennsylvania 8,417 

Ohio ie,C56 



21 

3 

Ti 

III. 
6 

19 



1 

1 

5 

7 

14 

29 

6 

143 

21 

39 

3 

4 

■J 

3 

41 

30 

41 

2 

2 

7 

3 

7 

416 



25,073 

IV. CHARCOAL FURNACES. 

Maine 2,100 

^ew Hampsliire 

Vermont 2,420 

Massacliusetts 8,564 

Connecticut 12,876 

New Yorli 21,774 

New Jersey 2,100 

Pennsylvania 96,154 

Maryland 26,470 

Virginia 14,828 

North Carolina 450 

Sonlh Carolina 1,506 

Georgia 2,807 

Alabama 1,405 

Tennessee 2.H,476 

Kentucky .... 3G, 563 

Ohio 70,355 

Indiana 1,800 

Illinois 1,900 

Missouri 10,138 

Wiscon.sin 2,500 

Michigan 3,678 

348,954 



No. of Furnaces. Tons. 

Antliracile, as above.. .... .121 394.509 

Coke, " 24 44.481 

Haw Coal, " 19 25.073 

Charcoal, " 416 34S.954 

Total pi? 580 813,017 

Table No. 4.— PRODUCT OF WROUGHT IKON 
DIRECT FROM THE ORE, ls;-,ii. 



Bloomaries. 

5 
42 
48 
36 

2 

4 
14 
50 

3 

204 



States. 



Product. 
Tons. 

Vermont 1,650 

New Y'ork 18,710 

New Jersey 4,487 

North Carolina 1,182 

South Carolina 640 

Georgia 40 

Alabama 252 

Tennessee 1,222 

Michigan 450 



28,633 



Pig iron as above 812,917 



Grand total production of iron from 

the ore in 1856 841,550 

In addition to this amount, the importa- 
tions for the year 1856 of iron designed for 
manufacture are estimated at 363,998 tons, 
consisting of Scotch pig, 55,403 tons ; rolled 
and hammered iron, 298,275 tons; and scraps, 
10,320 tons; and if to this be added for old 
rails reworked, 100,000 tons, and for scrap, 
25,000 tons, the total amount of iron enter- 
ing into domestic consumption was 1,330,548 
tons. The importation of railroad iron not 
included in the above was 167,400 tons. 
The proportion of foreign iron introduced 
into tiie general consumption, not including 
rails, was about 30 per cent. 

The value of the immediate products of 
the manufacture of domestic iron is thus 
given at the prices current in 1856 : — 



47 



Foundry pip 302,154 tong a $27, $8,158,158 

Foundry cold-blast ) 

cliarawl irun for j- 35,000 " a 35, 1,225,000 

car wlieels, etc. . . . ) 

Eailg 142,555 " a G3, 8,980,905 

Boiler and sheet.... 38,639 " a 120, 4,636,680 

Nails 81.462 " a 84, 6,842,808 

Bar, rod, hoop, and (235^25 " a 65,15,302,625 
band ) ' ' ' ' 

Hammered iron 21,000 " a 125, 2,625,000 

Total $47,771,236 

Mr. Smith presents the foUowino; conclu- 
sion to the " Statistical Iteport of the Iron 
Manufacture:" "The great facts demon- 
strated are, that we have nearly 1,200 effi- 
cient works in the Union ; that these pro- 
duce annual!}' about 8C'0,000 tons of iron, 
the value of which in an ordinary year is 
$50,00.1,000; of this amount the portion 
expended for labor alone is about $35,000,- 
000." 

The following table frives the different 
kinds of pig metal and liie total amount pro- 
duced in each year since 1856 : 

Tons Tods raw Tons 

Anlhnicite Bituiiiiunus Charcoal 

YEAE. Pig Iron. Coal and Coke Pig Iron. Total. 

Pig Iron. 

1857, 390.385 7T.451 330.321 79S,157 

li)53. 3111 410 58.:lol 285.313 70i.0»i 

185», 471.745 84.811 M4.1M1 840,«J7 

ISfiO, 61<.;U 122,228 278.331 919.770 

1«)1. 409,229 127.0.17 1115.278 731.544 

I8fi2, 470.315 130.fiS7 18fi.lj60 787.fiti2 

1863, 577.638 157.9SI 212.005 947.li04 

lS(il, 684.018 209.6.J6 241, 85;! 1,135.497 

l-6», 479,.58a 189.6S2 . 262.342 8^11. '282 

l-6o, 749.;lB7 286.996 332..280 1,350.943 

1^17, 79^.638 318.617 344,311 l,4«l.6..6 

186s, 893,000 340.0110 370.000 1.603.000 

18i9, 971.150 5.53.341 392.150 1.91(i,iill 

1.^70. 9J0.:«)0 5.50,0(10 360.000 l..S5i),tM)0 

1871, 875,999 650,000 375,000 1.900,000 

The manufacture of iron rails has existed 
for nearly twenty-five years in the United 
States, but has only assumed any great mag- 
nitude since 18.i4. The annual production 
of American rails since 18G1 has been : 18G1, 
189,818 tons: 1802, 213.ill2; l.SGS, 275,- 
768; 1864,835,369; 1865, 356,292 ; 1866, 
430,778; 1867, 462,108; 1868, 506,711; 
1869. 593,586 ; 1870, 62 i,0(»0 ; 1871, 722,- 
000 tons. Ill the la>t named year, 572,386 
ton-; were im[)orted from Great Britain. 

The census of 1860 gives the following 
statistics of the iron production and manu- 
facture of that year. There had been very 
little progress in the production of iron in 
the country for several years previous, in 
consequence of the very low rate of duty at 
which foreign railroad and other iron was 
admitted. 

Iron blooms, valued at $2,623,178 

Pig iron 20,870,120 

Bar, sheet and railroad iron.. 31,888,705 



Iron wire 1,643,857 

Iron forgings 1,'.HI7,4G0 

Car wheels 2,033^350 

Iron castings of all kinds 36,132,033 

$97,148,705 



The opening of the war, in 1801, gave an 
extraordinary impetus to iron production 
and manufacture. The tariff and other 
causes reduced the importation to a mini- 
mum, while the demand for iron for the 
fabrication of small arms and cannon ; for 
the construction of the large fleet of iron- 
clads, and for the other war vessels; for the 
building of locomotives, the casting of car 
wheels and furnishing the vast quantity of 
railroad iron needed to repair the old tracks 
destroyed by the contending armies, and to 
lay the tracks of new roads, extended the 
business vastly beyond all former precedeTit; 
and the requirement that the Pacific railroad 
and its branches shall be constructed solely 
of American iron, as well as the increase in 
its use for buildings, and for shipping, have 
maintained it in a prosperous condition. 

The manufacture of steel and the other 
manufactures of iron, aside from those al- 
ready enumerated, brought the aggregate 
production and manufacture of iron and 
steel, in 1860, up to $285,879,510. The 
revenue tax paid on iron and steel manufac- 
tures in 1864 indicates that the product of 
the branches taxed amounted to about 
812.3,000,000. This estimate was far below 
the production, as many branches were not 
taxed, and the returns of that year were im- 
perfect. The production and manufacture of 
1865 were not less than 400 millionsof dollars. 
There is every reason to expect that the de- 
velopment of the iron mines will be pushed 
forward with con.stantly increasing energy, 
and that the time is not far distant when 
many of the great repositories of ores we 
have described — now almost untouched — 
will be the seats of an active industry and 
centres of a thriving population, su]iported 
by the home markets they will create. The 
great valley of tlie west, when filled with 
the population it is capable of supporting, 
and intersected in every direction with the 
vast system of railroads, of which the present 
lines form but the mere outlines, will itself 
require more iron than the world now pro- 
duces, and the transportation of large por- 
tions of this from the great iron regions of 
northern Michigan and Wisconsin, and of 



48 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



coal back to the mines, will sustain larger 
lines of transportation than have ever yet been 
employed in conveying to their markets the 
most important products of the country. 
The importation of foreign iron — already 
falling otl' in proportion to the increased con- 
sumption — must, before many years, cease, 
and be succeeded by exports for the supplies 
of other nations less bountifully provided for 
in this respect than the United States and 
Great Britain. 



CHAPTER II. 

COPPER. 

The early attempts to work copper mines 
in the United States have already been al- 
luded to in the introductory remarks to the 
department of this work relating to mining 
industry. The ores of this metal .ire widely 
distributed throughout the country, and in 
almost every one of the states have been 
found in quantities that encouraged their ex- 
ploration — in the great majority of cases to 
the loss of those interested. The metal is 
met witli in all the New England states, but 
only those localities need be named which 
have at times been looked upon as important. 

Copper occurs in a native or metallic state, 
and also in a variety of ores, or combi- 
nations of the metal with other substances. 
In these forms tlie metallic appearance is 
lost, and the metal is obtained by different 
metallurgical operations, an account of some 
of which will be presented in the course of 
this chapter. Until the discovery of the 
Lake Superior mines, native copper, from its 
scarcity, was regarded rather as a curiosity 
than as an important source of supply. The 
workable ores were chiefly pyritous copper, 
vitreous copper, variegated copper, the red 
oxide, the green carbonate or malachite, and 
chrysocolla. The first named, though con- 
taining the least proportion of copper, has 
furnished more of the metal than all the 
other ores together, and is the chief depen- 
dence of most of the urines. It is a double 
sulphuret of copper and iron, of bright yel- 
low color, and consists, when pure, of about 
34 per cent, of copper, 35 of sulphur, and 
30 of iron. But the ore is always inter- 
mixed with quartz or other earthy minerals, 
bv which its richness is greatly reduced. As 
brousiht out from the mine it m.iy not con- 
tain more than 1 per cent, of copper, and 
■when freed as far as practicable from foreign 



substances by the mechanical processes of 
assorting, crushing, washing, jigging, etc., 
and brought up to a percentage of 6 or 7 of 
copper, it is in Cornwall a merchantable ore, 
and the mine producing in large quantity the 
poor material from which it is obtained may 
be a profitable one. Vitreous coj)per, known J 
also as copper glance, and sulphuret of cop- 1 
per, is a lead gray ore, very soft, and con- 
tains 79.8 per cent, of copper, united with 
20.2 per cent, of sulphur. It is not often 
fiiund in large quantity. Variegated or pur- 
ple copper is distinguished by its various 
shades of color and brittle texture. It yields, 
when pure, from 56 to 63 per cent, of copper, 
21 to 28 of sulphur, and 7 to 14 of iron. 
The red oxide is a beautiful ore of ruby red 
color, and consists of 88.8 per cent, of cop- 
per and 11.2 per cent, of oxygen. It is 
rarely found in sufficient quantity to add 
nuieh to the products of the mines. Green 
malachite is a highly ornamental stone, of 
richly variegated shades of green, famous as 
the material of costly vases, tables, etc., man- 
ufactured in Siberia for the Russian govern- 
ment. It is always met with in copper 
mines, especially near the surface, but rarely 
in large or handsome masses. It consists 
of copper 57.5, oxygen 14.4, carbonic acid 
19.9, and water 8.2 per cent. Chrysocolla 
is a combination of oxide of copper and 
silica, of greenish shades, and is met with as 
an incrustation upon other copper ores. It 
often closely resembles the malachite in ap- 
pearance. It contains about 36 per cent, of 
copper. 

The first mines worked in the United 
States were peculiar for the rich character 
of their ores. These were, in great part, 
vitreous and variegated copper, with some 
malachite, and were found in beds, strings, 
and bunches in the red sandstone formation, 
especially along its line of contact with the 
gneiss and granitic rocks in Connecticut, and 
with the trap rocks in New Jersey. The 
mine at Simsbury, in Connecticut, furnished 
a considerable amount of such ores from the 
year 1709 till it was purchased, about the 
middle of the last century, by the stale, 
from which time it was occupied for sixty 
years as a prison, and worked by the con- 
victs ; not, however, to much profit. In 
1830 it came into possession of a company, 
but was only worked for a short time after- 
ward. On the same geological range, but 
lying cliiefly in the gneiss rocks, the most 
productive of these mines was opened in 



49 



18:36, in Bristol, Conn. It was vigorously- 
worked from 1847 to 1857, and produced 
lar(;er amounts of rich vitreous and pyritous 
ores than have been obtained from any other 
mine in the United States. No expense was 
spared in prosecuting the mining, and in 
furnishing efficient machinery for dressing the 
ores. Although 1800 tons of ore, producing 
over $200,000, were sent to market, the ore 
yielding from 18 to 5U per cent, of copper, 
the mine proved a losing afl'air, and was 
finally abandoned in 1857. 

The New Jersey mines have all failed. 
from insufficient supply of the ores. The 
Sehuyler mine, at Belleville, produced rich 
vitreous copper and chrysocoUa, disseminated 
through a stratum of light brown sandstone, 
of 20 to 30 feet in thickness, and dipping at 
an angle of 12°. During the periods of its 
being worked in the last century, the exca- 
vations reached the depth of 200 feet, and 
were carried to great distances on the course 
of the metalliferous stratum. The mine was 
then so hitvhly valued that an offer of £500,- 
000, made for it by an English company, was 
refused by the proprietor, Mr. Schuyler. In 
1857-58 attempts were made by a New 
York company to work the mine again, but 
the enterprise soon failed. Among the other 
mines which have been worked to consid- 
erable extent in New Jersev are the Flem- 
ington mine, which resembled in the char- 
acter of its ore the Schuyler mine, and tJie 
Bridgcwatcr mine, near Somerville, at which 
native copper in some quantity was found in 
the last century ; twopiecosmet with in 1754 
weighing together, it was reported, 1,900 lbs. 
A mine near New Brunswick also furnished 
many lumps of native copper, and thin sheets 
of the metal were found included in the sand- 
stone. At diflerent times this mine has been 
thoroughlv explored, to the loss of those en- 
gaged in the enterprise. In Somerset county, 
the Franklin mine, near Griggstown, has been 
worked to the depth of 100 feet. Carbonate 
and red oxide of copper were found in the 
shales near the trap, but not in quantity suf- 
ficient to pay expenses. In Pennsylvania, 
near the Schuylkill river, in Montgomery and 
Chester counties, many mines have been 
worked for copper and lead at tlie junction 
of the red sandstone and gneiss. Those 
veins included wholly in the shales of the 
red sandstone group were found to produce 
copper chiefly, while those in the gneiss were 
productive in lead ores. At the Ferkiomen 
and Ecton mines — both upon the same lode 



— extensive mining operations have been 
carried on ; a shaft upon the latter having 
reached in 1853 the depth of 396 feet. The 
sales of copper ores during the three years 
the mines were actively worked amounted 
to over $40,500 ; but the product was not 
sufficient to meet the expenditures. 

The mines in Frederick county, Maryland, 
in the neighborhood of Liberty, were near 
the red sandstone formation, though included 
in argillaceous and talcose slates. A num- 
ber of them have been worked at difierent 
times up to the year 1853, when they were 
finally given up as unprofitable. 

A more newly discovered and richer cop- 
per district in Maryland is near Sykesvillo, 
on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, 32 miles 
from Baltimore, in a region of micaceous, 
talcose, and chloritic slates. A large bed of 
specular iron ore lying between the slates 
was found to contain, at some depth below 
the surface, carbonates and silicates of cop- 
per, and still further down copper pyrites. 
In the twelve months preceding April 1, 
1857, 300 tons had been mined and sent to 
market, the value of which was §17,896.92, 
and the mine was reported as improving. 
The ore sent to the smelting works at Balti- 
more, in December of that year, yielded 
16.03 per cent, of copper. Witliin seven 
miles of Baltimore the Bare Hill mine lias 
produced considerable copper, associated 
with the chromic iron of that region. 

Like the last two named, all the otlier lo- 
calities of copper ores of any importance 
along the Appalachian chain and east of it 
are remote from the range of the red sand- 
stone, and belong to older rock formations. 
In the granites of New Hampshire, pyritous 
copper has been found in many places, but has 
nowhere been mined to any extent. In Ver- 
mont, mining operations were carried on for 
several years upon a large lode of pyritous 
copper, which was traced several miles 
through Vershire and Corinth. At Straf- 
ford, pyritous ores were worked in 1829 and 
afterward, both for copperas and cop()er. In 
New York, excellent pyritous ores were pro- 
duced at the Ulster lead mine in 185.3. 
Among other sales of similar qualities ofore, 
one lot of 50 tons produced 24.3 per cent, of 
copper. 

In Virginia, rich ores of red oxide of cop- 
per, associated with native copper and pyri- 
tous copper, are found in the metamorphic 
slates at Manasses Gap, and also in many 
[ other places further south along the Blue 



50 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



Ridge. The very promising appearance of 
tlie ores, and their numerous localities, would 
encourage one to believe that this will prove 
to l:>e a copper region, were it not that, when 
explored, the ores do not seem to lie in any 
regular form of vein. In the southern part 
of the state, in Carroll, Floyd, and Grayson 
counties, copper was discovered in 1852, and 
mines were soon after opened in a district 
of metainorphic slates, near their junction 
with the lower silurian limestones. The 
copper was met with in the form of pyritous 
ore, red oxide, and black copper, beneath 
large outcropping masses of hematite iron 
ore, or gossan. Some of the shipments are 
said to have yielded over '20 per cent, of 
copper. The amount of ores sent east, over 
the Virginia and Tennessee railroad, in 1855, 
was 1,931,40:! lbs. ; in 1850, 1,972,834 lbs.; 
and in the nine months ending June 30, 
1857, 1,085,997 lbs.; 1858, 088,418 lbs.; 
1859, 1,151,132 lbs.; and 1800, 2,679,673 
lbs. Copper ores are very generally met witli 
in the gold mines of this state, and further 
south, but the only one of them that has been 
worked expressly for copper is that of the 
North Carolina Copper Company, in Guilford 
county. From this a considerable amount 
of pyritous copper ores were sent to the 
north in 1852 and 1853. 

In Tennessee, an important copper region 
lies along the southern line of I'olk couTity, 
and extends into Gilmer county, Georgia. 
The ore was first found in 1847, associated 
with masses of hematite iron ores, which 
formed great outcrop])ing ledges, traceable 
for miles from south-west to north-east along 
the range of the micaceous and talcose slates. 
An examination of the ores, made to ascer- 
tain the cause of their working badly in the 
furnace, was the means of corroborating or 
giving importance to the discovery of the 
copper. In 1851 copper mining was com- 
menced, and afterward prosecuted with great 
activity by a number of companies. The 
ore was found in seven or eight parallel lodes 
of the ferruginous matters, all within a belt 
of a mile in width. At the surface there 
was no appearance of it, but as the explora- 
tions reached the depth of seventy -five or 
one Imndred feet below the surface of the 
bills, it was met with in various forms, re- 
sulting from the decomposition of pyritous 
copper, and much mixed with the ochreous 
matters derived from a similar source. In a 
soft black mass, easily worked by the pick, 
and of extraordinary dimensions, were found 



intermixed ditferent oxides and other ores 
of copper, yielding various proportions of 
metal, and much of it producing 20 per cent, 
and more, fit to be barrelled up at once for 
transportation. This ore spread out in a 
sheet, varying in width at the dift'erent 
mines ; at the Eureka mine it was 50 feet 
wide, and at the Iliwassee 45 feet, while at 
the Isabella mine the excavations have been 
extended between two walls 250 feet apart. 
In depth this ore is limited to a few feet only, 
except as it forms bunches running up into 
the gossan or ochreous ores. Below the 
black ore is the undecomposed lode, consist- 
ing of quartz, more or less charged with 
pyritous copper, red oxide, green carbonate, 
and gray sulphuret of copper ; and it is upon 
these the permanent success of the mines 
must depend. About 14 mining companies 
have been engaged in this district, and the 
production of the most successful of them 
was as follows, up to the year 1858: Isa- 
bella, 2,500 tons; Calloway, 200; Mary's, 
1,500 ; Polk county, 2,100 ; Tennessee, 
2,200 ; Hiwassee, 2,500 ; Hancock, 2,000 — 
making a total of 13,000 tons, yielding from 
15 to 40 per cent, of copper, and worth ^100 
per ton, or $1,300,000. In addition to this, 
the products of the London mine, yielding 
an average of 45 per cent, of copper, amount- 
ed to over $200,000 in value ; and the prod- 
ucts of the Eureka mine were rated for 
1855 at $86,000; for 1856 at $123,000; 
and for 1857 at $136,000. The value of the 
ores remaining at the mines too poor to 
transport, but valuable to smelt in furnaces 
on the spot, was estimated at $200,000 more. 
Furnaces for smelting, on the German plan, 
were in operation in 1857, and produced 
the next year 850 tons of matt, or regulus. 
At the Eureka mine, in 1858, there were 4 
reverbcratory furnaces, 2 blast, and 2 cal- 
cining furnaces. The fuel employed is wood 
and charcoal. By the introduction of smelt- 
ing operations, ores of 5 to 6 per cent, are 
now advantageously reduced. 

In 1857 the mines of a large portion of 
this district were incorporated into the so- 
called Union Consolidated Mining Companv, 
and most of the other mines were taken up 
by the Burra Burra Company and the Polk 
County Company. The principal interests 
in the last two are held in New Orleans. 
The first named own 1 1 mines, of which 
they are working three only, with a monthly 
production of 750 to SuO tons of 12 per cent, 
copper, besides 5 or 6 tons of precipitate 



51 



copper. This is metallic copper, precipitated 
from the waters of the mine by means of 
scrap iron thrown into tbe vats in which 
these waters are collected. The iron being 
taken up by the acids whicli hold the cop- 
per in solution, tlie latter is set free, and de- 
posited in line metallic powder. The ore is 
smelted in furnaces constructed on the Ger- 
man plan, and beinsj put through twice, pro- 
duce a regulus of 55 per cent. As soon as 
the proper furnaces and refineries can be 
constructed, it is intended to make ingot 
copper, and by working more of the mines 
belonging to the company it is expected the 
monthly production will soon be raised to 
2,000 tons of 10 to 12 per cent. ore. 

The two other companies have erected ex- 
tensive smelting works ; and the mines of 
the Burra Burra are producing 450 to 500 
tons per month of 14 per cent, ore, and 
those of the Polk County Company about 
300 tons of 15 per cent. ore. Both com- 
panies will soon be able to make ingot cop- 
per. The report of the Union Consolidated 
Company for the first year of their opera- 
tions presents, against expenditures amount- 
ing to S!307,182."77, receipts of 8457,803.73, 
leaving a profit of §150,620.96. A large 
portion of the regulus is shipped to England 
for sale. 

The profits of these mines were greatly 
reduced the first few years of their operation 
by the necessity of transporting the ores 40 
miles to a railroad, and thence more than 
1,000 miles by land and water to the north- 
ern smelting works. The establishment of 
furnaces at the mines not only reduces this 
source of loss, but renders the great body 
of poorer ores available, which they were not 
before. A railroad is now in process of con- 
struction to connect the mines with the 
Georgia railroads. 

West of the Alleghanies, the onl}- copper 
mines, besides those of Lake Superior, are 
in the lead region of Wisconsin, Iowa, and 
Missouri. A considerable ntimber of them 
have been worked to limited extent, and 
small blast furnaces have been in operation 
smelting tlie ores. These were found only 
near the surface, in the crevices that con- 
tained the lead ores ; and in Missouri, in 
horizontal beds in the limestone, along the 
line of contact of the granite. The ores 
were mixed pyritous copper and carbonate, 
always in very limited quantity. The amount 
of copper produced has been unimportant, 
and it is not likely that any considerable in- 



crease in the supply of the metal will be de- 
rived from this source. 

The existence of native copper on ths 
shores of Lake Superior, is noticed in the 
reports of the Jesuit missionaries of 1659 
and 1666. Pieces of the metal 10 to 20 lbs. 
in weight were seen, which it is said the 
Indians reverenced as sacred ; similar reports 
were brought by Father Dablou in 1 670, and 
by Charlevoix in 1744. An attempt was 
made in 1771 by an Englishman, named 
Alexander Henry, to open a mine near the 
forks of the Ontonagon, on the baidc of the 
river, where a large mass of the metal lay ex- 
posed. He had visited the region in 1763, 
and returned with a party prepared for more 
thoroughly exploring its resources. They, 
however, found no more copper besides the 
loose mass, which they were unable to re- 
move. They then went over to the north 
shore of the lake, but met with no better 
success there. General Cass and Mr. 11. R. 
Schoolcraft visited the region in 1819, and 
reported on the great mass upon the Onton- 
agon. Major Long, also, in 1823, bore wit- 
ness to the occurrence of the metal along 
the shores of the take. The country, till 
the ratification of the treaty with the Chip- 
pewa Indians in 1842, was scarcely ever 
visited except by hunters and fur-traders, 
and was only accessible by a tedious voyage 
in canoes from Mackinaw. The fur com- 
panies discouraged, and could exclude from 
the territorv, all explorers not going there 
under their auspices. Dr. Douglass Hough- 
ton, the state geologist of Michigan, in the 
territory of which these Indian lands were 
included, made the first scientific examina- 
tion of the country in 1841, and his reports 
first drew public attention to its great re- 
sources in copper. His explorations were 
continued both under the state and general 
government until they were suddenly termi- 
nated with his life bv the unfortunate swamp- 
ing of his boat in the lake, near Eagle river, 
October 13, 1845. 

In 1844 adventurers from the eastern states 
began to pour into the country, and mining 
operations were commenced at various places 
near the shore, on Keweenaw Point. The 
companies t<Jok possession under permits 
from the general land office, in anticipation 
of the regular surveys, when the tracts could 
be properly designated for sale. Nearly 
one thousand tracts, of one mile square each, 
were selected — the greater part of them at 
random, and afterward explored and aban- 



52 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



doned. In 1846 a geological survey of the 
region was authorized h}- Congress, which 
was commenced under Dr. C. T. Jackson, 
and completed by Messrs. Foster and Whit- 
ney in 1850. At this time many mines were 
in full operation, and titles to them had been 
acquired at the government sales. 

The copper region, as indicated by Dr. 
Houghton, was found to be nearly limited to 
the range of trap hills, which are traced from 
the termination of Keweenaw Point toward 
the south-west in a belt of not more than two 
miles in width, gradually receding from the 
lake shore. The upper portion of the hills 
is of trap rock, lying in beds wliich dip to- 
ward the lake, and pass in this direction 
under others of sandstone, the outcrop of 
which is along the northern flanks of the 
hills. Isle Royale, near the north shore of 
the lake, is made up of similar formations, 
which dip toward the south. These rocks 
thus appear to form the basin in wliich the 
portion of Lake Superior lying between is 
held. The trap hills are traced from Kewee- 
naw Point in two or three parallel ridges of 
600 to 1,000 feet elevation, crossing Portage 
lake not far from the shore of Lake Superior, 
and the Ontonagon river about 13 miles from 
its mouth. They thence reach further back 
into the country beyond Agogebic lake, full 
120 miles from the north-eastern termina- 
tion. Another group of trap hills, known as 
the Porcupine mountains, comes out to the 
lake shore some 20 miles above the mouth 
of the Ontonagon, and this also contains 
veins of copper, which have been little de- 
veloped until tlie explorations commenced 
near Carp lake in these mountains in 1S59. 
These have resulted in a shipment of over 20 
tons of rough copper in 1800, and give en- 
couragement to this proving a copper-pro- 
ducing district. The formations upon Isle 
Royale, which is within the boundary of the 
United States, although they are similar to 
those of the south shore, and contain copper 
veins upon which explorations were vigor- 
ously prosecuted, have not proved of impor- 
tance, and no mines are now worked there. 
The productive mines are comprised in three 
districts along the main range of the trap 
hills. The first is on Keweenaw Point, the 
second about Portage lake, and the third 
near the Ontonagon river. All the veins 
are remarkable for producing native copper 
alone, the only ores of the metal being 
chiefly of vitreous copper found in a range 
of hills on the south side of Keweenaw Point, 



and nowhere in quantities to justify the con- 
tinuation of mining operations that were 
commenced upon them. The veins on Ke- 
weenaw Point cross the ridges nearly at right 
angles, penetrating almost vertically through 
the trap and the sandstones. Their produc- 
tiveness is, for the most part, limited to cer- 
tain amygdaloidal belts of the trap, which 
alternate with other unproductive beds of 
gray compact trap, and the mining explora- 
tions follow the former down their slope of 
40°, more or less, toward the north. The 
thickness of the veins is very variable, and 
also their richness, even in the amygdaloid. 
The copper is found interspersed in pieces 
of all sizes through the quartz vein stones 
and among the calcareous spar, laumonite, 
prehnite, and otlier minerals associated with 
the quartz. These being extracted, piles are 
made of the poorer sorts, in which the metal 
is not sufficiently clear of stone for shipment, 
and these are roasted by firing the wood in- 
termixed through the heaps. By this proc- 
ess the stone entangled among the copper 
is more readily broken and removed. The 
lumps that will go into barrels are called 
" barrel work," and are packed in this way 
for shipment. Larger ones, called " masses," 
some of which arc huge, irregular-shaped 
blocks of clean copper, are cut into pieces 
that can be conveniently transported, as of 
one to three tons weight each. This is done 
by means of a long chisel with a bit three- 
fourths of .an inch wide, which is held by one 
man and struck in turns by two others with 
a hammer weighing 7 or 8 lbs. A groove is 
thus cut across the narrowest part of the 
mass, turning out long chips of copper one- 
fourth of an inch thick, and with each suc- 
ceeding cut the groove is deepened to the 
same extent until it reaches through the mass. 
The process is slow and tedious, a single cut 
sometimes occupying the continual labor of 
three men for as many weeks, or even long- 
er. This work is done in great part be- 
fore the masses can be got out of the 
mine. The masses are found in working the 
vein, often occupying the whole space be- 
tween the walls of trap rock, standing up- 
on their edges, and shut in as solidly as if 
all were one material. To remove one of the 
very large masses is a work of many months. 
It is first laid bare along one side by extend- 
ing the level or drift of the mine through 
the trap rock. The excavation is carried 
high enough to expose its upper edge and 
down to its lower line ; but on account of ir- 



53 



regular shape and projecting arms of copper, 
■which often stretch forward, and up and down, 
connecting with other masses, it requires long 
and tedious mining operations to determine 
its dimensions. When it is supposed to 
be nearly freed along one side, very heavy 
charges of powder are introduced in the rock 
behind the mass, with the view of starting 
it from its bed. When cracks are produced 
by these, heavier charges are introduced in 
the form of sand-blasts, and these are re- 
peated until the mass is thrown partly over on 
its side as well as the space excavated will 
admit. In speaking further of the Minesota 
mine, the enormous sizes of some of the 
masses, and the amount of powder consumed 
in loosening them, will be more particularly 
noticed. 

To separate the finer particles of copper 
from the stones in which they are contained, 
these, after being roasted, are crushed under 
heavy stamps to the condition of fine sand, 
and this is then washed after the usual 
method of washing fine ores, until the earthy 
matters are removed and the metallic par- 
ticles are left behind. This is shovelled into 
small casks for shipment, and is known as 
stamp copper. The stamping and crushing 
machinery, such as have long been used at 
the mining establishments of other countries, 
were found to be entirely too slow for the 
requirements of these mines, and they have 
been replaced by new apparatus of Amer- 
ican contrivance, which is far more efficient 
than an}' thing of the kind ever before ap- 
plied to such operations. The stamps here- 
tofore in use have been of 100 lbs. to 300 lbs. 
weight, and at the California mines were first 
introduced of 800 lbs. to 1,000 lbs. weight. 
At Lake Superior they are in use on the plan 
of the steam hammer, weighing, with the rod 
or stamp-log, 2,500 lbs. and making 90 to 
100 strokes in a minute. The capacity of 
each stamp is to crush over one ton of hard 
trap rock every hour. It falls upon a larojo 
mortar that rests upon springs of vulcanized 
rubber, and the force of its fall is increased 
by the pressure of steam applied above the 
piston to throw it more suddenlv down. The 
stamp-head covers about one-fourth of the 
face of the mortar, and with every succeed- 
ing stroke it moves to the adjoining quarter, 
covering the whole face in fi;>ur strokes. 

The only other metal fiund with the cop- 
per is silver, and this does not occur as an 
alloy, but the two are as if welded together, 
and neither, when assayed, gives more than 



a trace of the other. It is evident from this 
that they cannot have been in a fused state 
in contact. The quantity of silver is small ; 
the largest piece ever found weighing a little 
more than S lbs. troy. This was met with 
at the mines near the mouth of Eagle river, 
where a considerable number of loose pieces, 
together with loose masses of copper, were 
obtained in e.xploring deep under the bed of 
the stream an ancient deposit of rounded 
boulders of sandstone and trap. The veins 
of even the trap rocks themselves of this lo- 
cality exhibited so much silver that in the 
early operations of the mines a very high 
value was set upon them on this account. 
But at none of the Lake Superior mines has 
the silver collected paid the proprietors for 
the loss it lias occasioned by distracting the 
attention of the miners, and leading them to 
seek for it with the purpose of appropriating 
it to their own use. Probably they have car- 
ried away much the greater part of this 
metal ; at least until the stamp mills were in 
operation. 

The principal mine of this district is the 
Cliff mine of the Pittsburg and Boston Com- 
pany, opened in 1 845, and steadily worked ever 
since. In 1858 the extent of the horizontal 
workings on the vein had amounted to 
12,368 feet, besides 831 feet in cross-cuts. 
Five shafts had been sunk, one of which was 
817 feet deep, 587 feet being below the adit 
level, and 230 feet being from this level to the 
summit of the ridge. The shaft of least 
depth was sunk 422 feet. 

The production of the mine from the year 
1853 is exhibited in the following table: — 

Price per lb. 

Mineral Refined Yield deducting Value 

Tear. pnKiuced. copper, per cent, crjst of realized. 

lbs. Ihs. smelting. 

1853, 2.268,182 1,071,288 47..38 cts. 27.32 $292,647 05 

ISM, 2..3.32,614 I,3I5..30S 56.33 ■-4,38 320,783 01 

1S55, 2,995.837 1,874,197 62.36 25 33 475,911 26 

IRSfi, 3,291.8.39 2,220,934 67,48 24.12 5.3."i.843 67 

1857, 8,363,.5.i7 2.:;63.KoO 70.28 20.44 497,870 47 

1858, 8,183,085 2,331.964 71.00 21.03 47.5,321 89 

1859, 2.139,632 1,415,007 64.35 20.50 290,097 97 
1860 2.805,442 

22,.374,6,sS .. .. 

'™u1a1eaTagr.": } "■^^O. -<"--« "' ^'"^^ 

The quantities of the different sorts for 
the year 1857 are as follows: — 

941 masses 1.958.181 lbs. 

869 bbls. of barrel work 613,731 " 

1,020 '■ ofstainpings 791,645" 

Total 3,368,557 " 

The Portage lake mining district is from 
twenty to twenty-five miles west from the 



54 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



Cliff mine on the same range of hills. This 
region is of more recent deTclopmcnt, tlie 
explorations having been attended with little 
success previous to 1854. The veins are 
here found productive in a gray variety of 
trap as well as the amygdaloidal, and instead 
of lying across the ridgos, follow the same 
course with them, and dip in general with 
the slope of the strata. 8ome of the larger 
veins consist in great part of cpidoto, and 
the copper in tliese is mucli loss dense 
than in the ijuartz veins, forming tangled 
masses which are rarely of any considerable 
size. On the eastern side of this lake are 
worked, among other mines, the Quincy, 
I'cwabic, and Franklin, and on the opposite 
side the Isle Koyale, Portage, and Columbian 
mines. The most successful of these has 
been the I'ewabic. Operations were com- 
menced here in 1855 upon an unimproved 
tract, requiring the construction of roads and 
buildings, clearing of land, etc. etc., all in- 
volving for several years a continue(i heavy 
outlay. The immediate and rapid produc- 
tion of the mine re(piired the construction of 
costly mills, without which a large propor- 
tion of the copper would be unavailable for 
the market. The first tliree years the as- 
sessments were $50,000, and the shipments 
of barrel and mass copper were in 1856 
S^^VA tons; in 1857, 209JfP/j tons; in 

1858, 402 tons; in 1859, SlSJJy^ tons. The 
proceeds from the sales up to this time paid 
off all the expenditures, and left besides a 
considerable surplus. The Franklin Com- 
pany, working the same lode upon the ad- 
joining location, commenced operations in 
July, 1857, and that year shipped 20 tons 
of copper, the next year 110 tons, and in 

1859, 218 tons; the total amount in capital 
furnished bv assessments was 4(10,000. Tliese 
two mines have been the most rajiidly de- 
veloped of any of the Lake Superior mines. 

The Ontonagon river crosses the trap hills 
about forty miles south-west from Portage 
lake, and the mines worked in tlie Onton- 
agon district are scattered along the hills 
north-east from the river for a distance of 
nearly twenty miles. The outlet for the 
gieater number of them is by aroa<l through 
tlic woods to the village at the mouth of the 
river. The veins o{ this district also lie 
abitig the course of the ridges, and dip with 
the trap rocks toward the lake. As they 
are worked, however, they are found oica- 
sionallv to cut across the strata, and neighbor- 
ing veins to run into each other. In some 



places copper occurs in masses scattered 
thi'ough the trap rock with no sign of a 
vein, not even a seam or crevice connecting 
one mass with another. They appear, how- 
ever, to be range<l on the general course of 
the strata. At the Adventure mine they 
were so abundant, that it has been found 
profitable to collect them, and the cliff's of 
the trap rock present a curious appearance, 
studded over with numerous dark cavities in 
apparently inaccessible places leading into 
the solid face of the mountai:i. 

The great mine of tiiis dislrict for fifteen 
years was the Minnesota, two mi'es ca-tfiom 
the Ontonagon river. The exi)loiers in this 
region in the winter of 18-17-48, found par- 
allel lines of trenches, extending along the 
trap hills, evidently made by man at .«ome 
distant period. They were so well mark- 
ed, as to be noticed even under a cover of 
three feet depth of snow. On examinaticjn 
they proved to be on the cour.=e of veins 
of cop;ier, and the excavations weie found 
to extend down into the solid rock, por- 
tions of which were sometimes left standing 
incr tiie workings. \\ hen these pits were 
afterward explored, there were found in 
them large quantities of rude hammers, made 
of the hardest kind of greenstone, from the 
trap rocks of the neighborhood. These 
were of all sizes, ranging from four to forty 
pounds weight, and of the same general 
shape — one end being rounded off for the 
end of the hammer, and the other shaped 
like a wedge. Around the middle was a 
groove — the large hammers had two — evi- 
dently intended for securing the handle by 




STONE HAUMBK. 



which they were wielded. In every instance 
the hammers were more or less broken, evi- 



COPPER. 



55 



dently in service. One of them brought from 
the mine by tlie writer, and now in the col- 
lection of the Cooper Union of New York, 
is represented in the accompanying sketch. 
It measures 6i inches in length, the same in 
breadth, and 2i inches in thickness. 

The quantity of hammers found in these 
old workings was so great that they were col- 
lected by cart-loads. How they could have 
been made with such tools as the ancient 
miners had, is unaccountable, for the stone 
itself is the hardest material thev could find. 
And it is not .any more clear, how thev ap- 
plied such clumsj' tools to excavating solid 
rock nearly as hard as the hammers them- 
selves. Every hammer is broken on the 
edge, as if worn out in service. The only 
tools found besides these were a copper gad 
or wedge, a copper chisel with a socket head, 
and a wooden bowl. The great extent of 
the ancient mining operations indicates that 
the country must have been lonsj occupied 
by an industrious people, possessed of more 
mechanical skill than the present race of In- 
dians. They nuist also have spread over the 
whole of the copper region, for similar evi- 
dences of their occupancy are found about 
all the copper mines, and even upon Isle 
Royale. It is not improbable that they be- 
longed to the race of the mound builders of 
the western states, among the vestiges of 
■whom, found in the mounds, various utensils 
of copper have been met with. But of the 
period when they lived, the copper mines 
afford no more evidence than the mounds. 
Some of the trenches at the Minesota mine, 
originally excavated to the depth of more 
than twenty-five feet, have since filled up 
with gravel and rubbish to within a few 
feet of the surface, a work which in this 
region would seem to require centuries; and 
upon the surface of this material large trees 
are now standing, and stumps of much older 
ones are seen, that have long been rotting. 
In clearing out the pits a mass of copper 
•was discovered, buried in the gravel nearly 
twenty feet below the surface, which the an- 
cients had entirely separated from the vein. 
They had supported it upon blocks of wood, 
and, probably by means of fire and their 
hammers, had removed from it all the adhering 
stone and projecting points of copper. Under 
it were quantities of ashes and charred wood. 
The weight of the mass, after all their at- 
tempts to reduce it, appears to have been 
too great for them to raise ; and when it was 
finally taken out in 1848, it was found to 
4* 



weigh over six tons. It was about ten feet 
long, three feet wide, and nearly two feet 
thick. Beneath this spot the vein after- 
ward proved extremely rich, affording many 
masses of great size. 

The veins worked by the Minesota Com- 
pany all lie along the southern slope of the 
northern trap ridge, not far below the sum- 
mit. Three veins have been discovered which 
lie nearly parallel to each other. The lowest 
one is along the contact of the gray trap of 
the upper part of the hill and a stratum of 
conglomerate which underlies this. It dips 
with the slope of this rock toward the north- 
north-west at an angle of about 46° with the 
horizon. The next upper vein outcropping, 80 
or 90 feet further up the hill, dips about Cl°, 
and falls into the lower vein along a very 
irregular line. Both veins are worked, and 
the greatest yield of the mine has been near 
their line of meeting. 

The position of the veins along the range 
of the rocks, instead of across them, gives to 
the mines of this character a great advantage, 
as their productiveness is not limited to the 
thickness of any one belt which proves favor- 
able for the occurrence of the metal ; and 
the outcrop of the vein can be traced a great 
distance along the surface, aftbrdinn conve- 
nient opportunities for sinking directly upon 
it at any point. 

The Minnesota Company, liaving abund- 
ant room, were soon able to sink a large 
number of shafts along a line of outcrop 
of 1,800 feet, and several of the levels be- 
low extended considerably further than this 
entire length. In 1 8.J8 nine shafts were 
in operation, and ten levels were driven on 
the vein, the deepest at 536 feet down the 
slope. The ten fathom level at that time 
vi-as 1,9G0 feet in length. This mine has 
been remarkable for the large size and great 
number of its masses. The largest one of 
these, taken out during the year 1857, after 
being uncovered along its side, refused to 
give way, though 1,450 pounds of powder 
had been exploded behind it in five succes- 
sive sand-blasts. A charge of 625 pounds 
being then fired beneath it, the mass was so 
much loosened that by a succeeding blast of 
750 pounds it was torn off from the masses 
with which it connected, and thrown over 
in one immense piece. It measured forty- 
five feet in length, and its greatest thickness 
was over eight feet. Its weight was estima- 
ted at about 500 tons. What it proved to 
be is not certain, as no account was preserved 



!56 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



of the pieces into which it was cut, but it is 
known to have exceeded 400 tons. Other 
masses have been taken out which presented 
a thickness of over five feet solid copper. 
The value of the silver picked out from 



Years. 

1848, 

1849, 

1850, 

1851, 

1852, 

1853, 

1854,' 

1856,- 

1856, 

1857, 

1858, 

1859, 

1860, 



In consequence of recent discoveries of 
masses of copper running into tlic sandstone 
off from the vein itself, the product of the 
year 1860 will considerably exceed that of 
any other year ; the profits, however, are not 
proportionally large, owing to the low price 
of copper. To this the diminished prof- 
its of 1858 and 1859 are partly to be attrib- 
uted. The product for 1857, 1858, and 
1859 was divided as follows : — 



among the copper has amounted in one year 
to about $1,000. 

The reports of the company present the 
following statistics of the mine from its 
earliest operations: — 







Mineral 










No.of men 


Expenditure. 


product. Per 


centage 


Value of 


Assessments 


Dividends. 


employed. 




Tons. 




Copper. 


paid. 




20 


$14,000 


6i 


, . 


$1,700 


$10,500 




60 


28,000 


52 




14,000 


16,500 




■ 90 


58,000 


103 




29,000 


36,000 




115 


88,000 


307i 




90,000 


3,000 




212 


108,000 


520 




196,000 




$30,000 


280 


168,000 


623 




210,000 




60,000 


392 


218,000 


763 




290,000 




90,000 


471 


280,933 


1,434 


71 


549,876 




200,000 


537 


356,541 


1,859 


72.5 


701,906 




300,000 


615 


402,538 


2,058 


74 


736,000 




300,000 


713 


384,827 


1,833 


70.1 


595,000 




180,000 


718 


384,394 


1,626 


71 


515,786 




120,000 


8 montlis to Sept. 1 


.. 1,431 










Estimate, 


for the year. 


.. 2,250 











Tears. 

1857, 
1858, 
1859, 



Masses, 
lbs. 

3,015,681 
2,429,989 
2,040,454 



Barrel work, 
lbs. 

819,900 
903,871 
929,571 



Stamp work, 
lbs. 

280,512 
333,352 
282,092 



Besides the dividends named, the original 
stockliolders have derived large profits from 
the sale of portions of the extensive terri- 
tory, three miles square, which belonged to 
the company, and the organization upon 
these tracts of new companies. 

Before the completion of the St. Mary's 
Canal, no exact records were preserved of 
the amount of copper sent from Lake Su- 
perior. But up to the close of navigation in 
1854 it is supposed the total shipments from 
the commencement of mining in 1845 had 
been about 7642 tons of pure copper. 

Since that time, the annual product of 
rough copper has been as follows : — 



Districts. )86S. 

Keweenaw 2,245 

Portajje 315 

Ontonagon 1,984 

Porcupine, Mo., etc 



1856. 
2,128 
4G2 
2,767 



1S67. 

2,200 

704 

3,190 



IS58. 
2,125 
1,116 
2,655 



1S59. 
1,910.3 
1,533.1 
2,597.6 



1860. 

1,910.8 

3,064.8 

3,588.7 

28.1 



Total 4,544 



5,357 6,094 5,896 6,041.0 8,543.4 



The condition of the Lake Superior mines 
at the close of the year 1860 is well pre- 
sented in the business circular of Messrs. 
Dupce, Beck, & Saylcs, of Boston, received 
since the preceding pages passed through 
the hands of the printer and stereotyper. 
From this we introduce the following ad- 
ditional matter. The depreciation in the 
price of copper from a maximum of 29i 
cents a pound of the few preceding years to 
a maximum of 24i cents and a miiiiinuni of 
19 cents, had induced increased economy 
and care in the administration of the mines, 
the good eftects of which were already be- 
ginning to be experienced : — 



" Freights to and from tlio mines from 
May to September were 25 per cent, less 
than in 1859. The transportation of a ton 
of copper from the lake shore to Boston, 
cost, after the opening of St. Mary's Canal, 
1855, $20; in 1860, to Boston, 111, and to 
New York, ^9. The substitution of bitu- 
minous coal for wood, which has been de- 
livered during the past summer at the 
wharves of Portage Lake for $3.25 per ton, 
will save much money and leave the forests 
of the country for building materials and 
for timbering of the mines. With the wants 
of a rapidly increasing population, new and 
clieaper sources of supply are constantly 



57 



opening in the region itself. Many agricul- 
tural products, hitherto sent up at great cost 
from Lower Michigan, are now raised in the 
neighborhood of the mines, and at the new 
settlements on the south-western shores of 
the lake, cheaply and abundantly. At 
Portage Lake, a machine shop, an iron 
foundry, and a manufactory of doors, sash- 
es, blinds, etc., have been put in operation 
during 1860. The smelting works of the 
I'ortage Lake Company are now success- 
fully refining the products of that district. 
These works consist of four reverberatory and 
two cupola furnaces, capable of refining 6000 
tons per annum. The buildings are of the 
most thorough and substantial character, 
and the location of the works accessible, at 
a very small cost of transportation, to all the 
mines now wrought, or likely to be wrought 
for many years hence, in that neighbor- 
hood. Hitherto, to save cost of transporta- 
tion to the smelting companies in other 
states, it has been necessary to dress the 
rough copper to an average probably of 70 
per cent. Now, by the proximity of the 
furnaces to the mines, a dressing of 50 per 
cent, will answer the same purpose, while 
the refined copper, hitherto rarely ready for 
the market before the 1st to 15th July, will 
be sent directly from the lake to New- 
York or Boston, arriving there in ordinary 
seasons by the 1st of June. Further, there 
will be added the new facility of obtaining 
cash advances through the winter on the 
warehouse receipts of the smelting company. 

" The opening of the entry into Portage 
Lake during the past season has been one of 
the greatest improvements in the navigation 
of the Lake Superior region since the com- 
pletion of the ship canal around the falls of 
St. Mary's river. At the comparatively 
small cost of $50,000, steamers of the larg- 
est class able to pass through the St. RLary's 
Canal may now enter Portage Lake, and dis- 
charge their cargoes at the docks of the sever- 
al companies located on its shores. Besides 
avoiding the loss of time and expense of tran- 
shipment hitherto necessary, the opening of 
Portage Lake has provided one of the most 
capacious and safest harbors in the world. 

" In the Ontonagon district, a plank road 
has been completed recently, facilitating to 
a very great extent the transportation to 
and from the Minesota, National, Rock- 
land, and Superior mines. 

" The iron interests of Lake Superior are 
rapidly attaining great importance. The 



amount brought down to Marquette, the 
port of shipment, in 1860, was : of iron ore 
from the Jackson Company, 62,980 tons ; 
Cleveland Company, 47,889; Lake Superior 
Company, 39,394; total, 150,263. Of pig 
iron, Pioneer Company, 3050 tons ; S. R. 
Gay, ISUO; Northern Company, 650; total, 
6500. Ore valued at $3 ; pig at $25 ; ag- 
gregate value, $588,289." 

The following statistics are presented of 
the principal mines : — 

COMPARATIVE TABLE OF SHIPMENTS OF ROUGH COPPER 
FKOM LAKE SUPERIOR DURING THE SEASONS OF ISo'J 
AND l^BO. 

The weiirhts of the barrels have been deducted, and the 
results are friven in tons (2'JOO lbs.) and tenths. 

KEWEENAW DISTRICT. 

1859. 1860. 

Central 112.3 78.6 

Clark 5.6 7.2 

Connecticut 24. 5.3 

Copper Falls 329.4 328. 

Kasfle River 6. 

Nortli American 8.7 

Northwest 73.8 103.5 

Plioenix 32. 31,2 

Pittsburg and Boston 1,254.5 1,357. 

Summit 4. 

1,910.3 1,910.8 

PORTAGE DISTRICT. 

C. C. Douglass 24. 

Isle Roy ate 241.3 458.6 

Franklin 204.7 267. 

Hancock 7.2 

Huron 7.4 73. 

Mesnard .6 

Pewabic 734.4 1,363.8 

Portage 8.7 

Quincy 336. 866.2 

1,533.1 3,064.8 

ONTONAGON DISTRICT. 

Adventure 139,4 29.7 

Aztec 15.3 4.9- 

Boliemian 3. 

Evergreen Bluff 27. 41.9 

Hamilton 7 7.9 

Mass 12.3 

Minesota 1.623 5 2,183.4 

National 323.2 727.8 

Nebraska 9.8 26.4 

Norwich 22. 

Ogiraa 35.4 

Ridge 27.8 

Rockland 347. 552.7 

Superior 1.7 14. 

Toltec 9.4 

2,597.6 3,588 7 

Keweenaw District 1,910.3 1,910.8 

Portage 1,533.1 3,050 8 

Ontonagon 2,597.6 3,563.7 

Porcupine Mountain 20.5 

Sundry mines 7.6 

6,041.0 8,543.4 



58 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



Franklin : the product for the year end- 
ing November 30 has been 112 masses, 
weighing 72,166 lbs. ; 721 barrels of barrel 
work, 469,116 lbs.; and 67 barrels stamp 
■work, 63,816 lbs. Total, 6iJ5,098 lbs., 
equal to ISOy'j tons refined copper. The 
actual shipments were about 207 tons rough, 
or 158 tons ingot copper. The stamps arc 
Ball's, consisting of two pairs of two heads 
each. They did not commence work till 
November 19. 

Huron : total shipments this year, 65y\ 
tons of 641 per cent, barrel work, and 12,- 
311 lbs. of refined copper, smelted at the 
Portage Lake works. There is ready for 
the stamps an amount equivalent, at a fair 
estimate, to the quantity shipped this sea- 
son. 

Isle Royalc : total shipments this season 
458Jj tons, averaging over 70 per cent. 
Preparations have been made for opening a 
largo amount of ground during the winter, 
■with a view to large shipments at the open- 
ing of navigation. 

Minesota: November returns, 150 tons. 
The total shipments in 1860 were 1992 
masses, and 2127 barrels of barrel and 
stamp work. Net weight, 4,366,718 lbs. 
This is the largest shipment made in one 
year by any mine at the lake. The promise 
for future production is as great, at least, as 
the result for this year. 

Pewabic : November product, 304/^^ tons. 
Tlie actual shipments for the season have 
been 2,727,632 lbs. The product for one 
year to November 30 was as follows: 467 
masses, weighing 348,658 lbs. ; 2294 bar- 
rels kiln or barrel work, -weighing net, 
1,450,778 lbs.; 342 barrels No" 1, stamp, 
379,718 lbs.; 399 barrels No. 2, stamp, 
389,973 lbs.; 401 barrels No. 3, stamp, 
346,912 lbs.; add on tributcrs' account, 
27,428. Total, 2,943,467 lbs. 

The smelting returns are not yet all made, 
but on an estimate based on past experience, 
the result will not vary much from 2,03u,- 
992 lbs., or about 1000 tons of ingot cop- 
per. 

During the year there have been shipped 
1533 ounces of silver. 

Pittsburg and Boston : November prod- 
uct, 114 tons. Total shipments, 1357 tons. 
Total product for the year, 1402 tons. The 
annual report recently published gives the 
result of the year ending December 1, 1859. 
The product for that year was l,099Jj tons, 
yielding 64yYo P*^'' cent., or 7o7/j tons in- 



got copper. The receipts, including $2,- 
405 17 from sales of silver, were $292,- 
503 14. The expenditures were $272,- 
175 75, leaving net profit, $20,327 39. 

COPPER SMELTING 

The ores of copper, unlike those of most 
of the other metals, are not in general re- 
duced at the mines; but after being concen- 
trated by mechanical processes called dress- 
ing — which consist in assorting the piles ac- 
cording to their qualities, and crushing, jig- 
ging, and otherwise washing the poorer sorts 
— they are sold to the smelters, wlioseestab- 
lishments may be at great distances off, even 
on the other side of the globe. The richer 
ores, worth per ton three or four times as 
many dollars as the figures that represent 
their percentage of metal, well repay the 
cost of transportation, and are conveniently 
reduced at smelting works situated on the 
coast near the markets for copper, and where 
the fuel required for their reduction is cheap. 
At Swansea, in South Wales, there are eight 
great smelting establishments, to which all 
the ores from Cornwall and Devon are car- 
ried, and which receive other ores from al- 
most all parts of the world. It is stated that 
in this district there are nearly 600 furnaces 
emploj-cd, which consume about 500,000 
tons of coal per annum, and give employ- 
ment to about 4,000 persons besides colliers. 
The amount of copper the^- supply is more 
than half of that consumed by all nations. 
The total product of fine copper produced 
bv all the smelting establishments of Great 
Britain for 1857 is stated to be 18,238 tons, 
worth £2,079,323. 

The copper smelting works of the United 
States are those upon the coast, depending 
chiefly upon foreign supplies of ores, and 
those of the interior for melting and refining 
the Lake Superior copper. There are also 
the furnaces at the Tcimcssce mines, which 
have been already noticed. The former are 
situated at the following localities : At 
Point Shirley, in Boston haibor, are the 
furnaces of the Revere Copper Company, 
which also has rolling mills and other -works 
connected with the manufacture of copper 
at Canton, on the Boston and Providence 
railroad. At Taunton, Mass., a similar estab- 
lishment to that at Canton is owned by the 
Messrs. Crocker, of that town. There are 
smelting furnaces at New Ilavcn, Conn. ; at 
Bergen Point, in New York harbor ; and at 
Baltimore, on a point in the outer harbor. 



COPPER. 



59 



The furnaces established for workinp; the 
L;ike Superior copper are at Detroit, Cleve- 
hiiid, and Pittsburg. At the last named 
are two separate establishments, with each 
of which is connected a rolling mill, at 
which the ingot copper is converted into 
sheets for home consumption and the eastern 
market. A furnace was also built at Port- 
age lake, Lake Superior, in 1860, of capacity 
equal to melting 6U00 tons of copper annu- 
ally. The details and extent of the opera- 
tions carried on by the smelting works ap- 
pear to have been carefully kept from publi- 
cation. In a work on " Copper and Copper 
Smelting," by A. Snowdon Piggott, M. D., 
who had charge of the chemical assays, etc., 
for the Baltimore Company, published in 
1858, while the English processes are fully 
described, no information is given as to the 
methods adopted at the American works ; 
and of their production all the information 
is contained in the two closing sentences of 
the appendix, as follows: "Of the copper- 
smelting establishments of the United States 
I have no statistics. Baltimore turns out 
about 8,000,000 pounds of refined copper 
annually." Applications which have been 
made by the writer to the proprietors of 
several of the establishments for information 
as to the business, have been entirely unsuc- 
cessful. The total production of copper in 
1858 was supposed to be about 13,000 tons 
per annum; and of this about 7o00 tons 
were required by the rolling mills for mak- 
ing sheet copper, sheet brass, and yellow 
metal. 

The French treatise on Metallurgy by 
Professor Rivot contains the only published 
description of the American method of 
smelting copper. By the English process, 
the separation of the metal from its ores is 
a long and tedious series of alternate roast- 
ings or calcinations, and fusions in rever- 
beratory furnaces. The system is particu- 
larly applicable to tlie treatment of poor, 
sulphurous ores contaminated with other 
metals, as iron, arsenic, etc., and can only be 
conducted to advantage where fuel is very 
cheap, the consumption of this being at the 
rate of about 20 tons to the ton of copper 
obtained. The process employed in Ger- 
many is much more simple, and the methods 
in use at the American smelting works are 
more upon the plan of these. Blast or cu- 
pola furnaces supply at some of them the 
place of reverbcratories, and the separation 
of the metal is completed in great part by 



one or two smeltings. The treatment of the 
Lake Superior copper is comparatively an 
easy operation. For this large reverberatory 
furnaces are employed, through the roof of 
which is an opening large enough to admit 
masses of 3 to 3 J tons weight, which are 
raised by cranes and lowered into the fur- 
nace. The barrels of barrel work arc intro- 
duced in the same way, and left in the fur- 
nace without unpacking. When the furnace 
is charged, the opening in the top is secure- 
ly closed by fire-proof masonry, and the fire 
of bituminous coal is started, the flame from 
which plays over the bridge, and, reflected 
from the roof, strikes upon the copper, caus- 
ing it gradually to sink down and at last 
flow in a liquid mass. A small portion of 
the copper by the oxidizing action of the 
heated gases is converted into a suboxide, 
which is partially reduced again, and in part 
goes into the slags in the condition of a 
silicate of copper, the metal of which is not 
entirely recovered. The mixture of quartz, 
calcareous spar, and epidote accompanying 
the copper, is sometimes such as to melt 
and form a good cinder without addition of 
any other substance, but usually some lime- 
stone or other suitable material is added as 
a flux. Complete fusion is effected in 12 to 
15 hours according to the size of the masses, 
and this is kept up for about an hour in 
order that the tine particles of copper may 
find their way through the fluid slag, which 
floats upon the metal. Working tools call- 
ed rabbles are then introduced through the 
side-doors of the furnace, and the charge is 
stirred up and the slag is drawn out through 
the door. It falls upon the ground, and is 
taken when sufficiently cool to the cupola or 
slag furnaces where it is chilled with water 
to render it easy to break up. Those por- 
tions which contain as much as one fourth 
per cent, of copper are reserved to be pass- 
ed through the slag furnace. The total 
amount of slag is usually less than 20 per 
cent, of the whole charge. In the melting 
the copper absorbs carbon, which if allow- 
ed to remain would render it brittle and 
unfit for use. To remove it the fire is so 
arranged that the gases pass through with 
much unconsumed air ; this playing on the 
surface of the copper produces a suboxide 
of the metal, which in the course of half an 
hour is quite taken up by the copper, and 
coming in contact with the particles of car- 
bon the oxygen combines with this, and re- 
moves it in the form of carbonic acid gas. 



60 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



It now remains to remove tlie excess of 
oxygen introduced, wiiich is eftected by the 
ordinary method of refining. A large pro- 
portion of fuel is employed on the grate for 
the amount of air admitted through it, so 
that the flames as they pass over the bridge 
convey little free oxygen, and the surface of 
the metal is covered with fine charcoal. 
After a little time a pole of green wood is 
thrust into the melted copper and stirred 
about so long as gases escape from the sur- 
face. It is then taken out, and if on testing 
the copper some suboxide still remains, the 
refining is cautiously continued with char- 
coal, and just when, as appears by the tests, 
all the oxide is reduced, the work of dipping 
out the metal is commenced. This is done 
by large iron ladles, the whole set of men 
employed at two furnaces, to the number 
of about 12, coming to this work and tak- 
ing turns in the severe task. They protect 
themselves from the intense heat by wet 
cloths about their arms, and as quickly as 
possible bale out a ladle full of copper and 
empty it into one or more of the ingot 
moulds, of which 36 are arranged in front 
of the furnace-door upon three parallel bars 
over a trough of water. As the metal be- 
comes solid in each mould, this is upset, 
letting the ingot fall into the water. The 
weight of the ingot being 20 pounds, the 
filling of them all removes 720 pounds of 
copper from the furnace. The metal that 
remains is then tested, and according to its 
condition the discharging may be continued 
or it may be necessary to oxidize the copper 
again and repeat the refining, or merely to 
throw more charcoal upon the surface and 
increase the heat. The time required to 
ladle out the whole charge is from four to 
six hours. When this is completed the sole 
of the furnace is repaired, by stopping the 
cracks with sand and smoothing the surface 
to get all ready for the next charge ; and at 
the same time the second furnace has reach- 
ed the refining stage of the process. One 
charge to a furnace is made every evcniua;, 
and as in the night it is necessary only to 
keep up the fires, the groat labor of the proc- 
ess comes wholly in the day time. 

The following is the estimated cost at 
Detroit of the smelting, on a basis of two 
furnaces, each of which is charged with four 
and a half to five tons of mass copper, con- 
suming two and a half tons of coal, and pro- 
ducing from three to three and a half tons 
of ingots : — 



Labor, 15 hands, at $1.50 $22.50 

Bituminous coal, 5 tons, at $5 25.00 

Wood and cliarcoal 1.25 

Repairs to furnace, average for the season.. 2.00 

$50.75 

To this should be added, for superintend- 
ence, ofiice, and general expenses, perhaps 
ten dollars more, which would make the 
cost for six or seven tons of ingot copper, 
160.75, or $9 to $10 per ton. At Pitts- 
burg the rate charged has been $11 per ton; 
and fuel is there afibrded at about one third 
the amount allowed in the above estimate. 

The cupola furnaces for treating the slags 
are of very simple plan and construction. 
They are of cylindrical form, about ten feet 
high, and three feet diameter inside. Their 
walls, the thickness of a single length of 
fire brick, are incased in boiler-plate iron, 
and stand upon a cast-iron ring, which is 
itself supported upon four cast-iron columns 
about three feet above the ground. Trans- 
verse iron bars support a circular plate, and 
upon this the refractory sand for tlie sole of 
the furnace is placed, and well beaten down 
to tlie thickness of a foot, with a sharp slope 
toward the tapping hole. A low chimney 
conveys away the gaseous products of com- 
bustion, and through the base of it the 
workmen introduce the cliarges. The blast 
is introduced by three tuyeres a foot above 
the sole ; but before it enters the furnace it 
is heated by passing through a channel around 
the furnace. A steady current is obtained by 
the use of three double acting blowing cylin- 
ders, which give a pressure equal to about 
three and a half inches of mercury. 

The hands employed at the Detroit es- 
tablishment, besides the superintendent and 
liead smelter, are eighteen furnace men and 
from five to ten workmen, according to the 
arrivals of copper during the season of navi- 
gation. After the stock thus received is 
worked up, the furnaces remain idle during 
the remainder of the winter. 

USEFUL APPLICATIONS OP COPPER. 

The uses of copper are so numerous and 
important that the metal must rank next in 
value to iron. In ancient times, indeed, it 
was the more useful metal of the two, being 
abundant among many nations to whom iron 
was not known. In the ancient Scandina- 
vian tumuli recently opqned in Denmark, 
among the various implements of stone were 
found swords, daggers, and knives, the blades 
of which were, in some instances, of copper, 



61 



and in some of gold, while the cutting edges 
were formed of iron, showing that this was 
more rare and valuable than either copper or 
gold. It has been supposed that several of 
the ancient nations, as the Egyptians, Greeks, 
etc., possessed the art of hardening copper, 
so as to make it serve the purposes of steel. 
That they employed it for such uses as those 
to which we now apply tools of steel is cer- 
tain, and also that the specimens of some of 
their copper tools are considerably harder 
than any we make of the same metal. These 
are found, on analysis, to contain about one 
part in ten of tin, which, it is known, in- 
creases, when added in small proportions, 
the hardness of copper, and this was prob- 
ably still further added to by hammering. 

Among the most important uses of the metal 
at present is that of sheathing the bottoms 
of ships in order to protect the timbers from 
the ravages of marine animals, and present a 
smooth surface for the easy passage of the 
vessel through the water. The metal is well 
adapted, from its softness and tenacity, for 
rolling into sheets, and these were first pre- 
pared for this use for the Alarm frigate of 
the royal navy, in 1761. Sheet lead had 
been in use before this time, but was soon 
after given up for copper. On account of 
ihe rapid deterioration of the copper by the 
action of the sea-water, the naval department 
of the British government applied, in 1823, 
to the Hoyal Society for some method of 
preserving the metal. This was furnished 
by Sir Humphry Davy, who recommend 
ed applying strips of cast iron under the 
copper sheets, which, by the galvanic cur- 
rent excited, would be corroded instead 
of the copper. The application answered 
the purpose intended, but soon had to be 
given up, for the copper, protected from 
chemical action, it was found, became cov- 
ered with barnacles and other shell-fish, so 
as seriously to impair the sailing qualities of 
the vessels, and for this reason it has been 
found necessary to submit to the natural wast- 
ing of the metal, and replace the sheets as fast 
as they become corroded. 

Various alloys have been proposed as sub- 
stitutes for copper. That known as yellow 
metal, or Muntz's, has been the most success- 
ful and has been very generally introduced. 
It consists of copper alloyed with about 40 
per cent, of zinc, and is prepared by plung- 
ing cakes of zinc into a bath of melted cop- 
per contained in a reverberatory furnace. 
The volatilization of the zinc and oxidation 



of the metals is guarded against by a cover- 
ing of fine charcoal kept upon the melted 
surface. The bolts, nails, and other fasten- 
ings for the sheathing, and for various other 
parts of the ship, are made also of copper 
and of yellow metal ; and to secure the great- 
est strength, they should be cast at once in 
the forms in which they are to be used. 
The manufacture of all these articles is ex- 
tensively carried on at the different copper 
establishments in Massachusetts, Connecti- 
cut, and Baltimore. 

Sheet copper is also applied to many other 
very important uses, as for copper boilers 
and pipes, for large stills and condensers, 
the vacuum pans of sugar refineries, and a 
multitude of utensils for domestic purposes, 
and for employment in the different arts. 
For engraving upon it is prepared of the 
purest quality and of different thicknesses, ac- 
cording to the kind of engraving for which 
it is to be used. The engraver cuts it to the 
size he requires, planishes it,and gives to it the 
dead smooth surface peculiar to engraving 
plates. Thesmaller utensils of sheet copper, as 
urns, vases, etc., are very ingeniously hammer- 
ed out from a flat circular sheet. As the ham- 
mering is first applied to the central portion, 
this spreads and takes the form of a bowl. 
As the metal becomes harder and brittle by 
the operation, its softness and ductility are 
restored by annealing, a process that must 
often be repeated as the hammering is con- 
tinued, and toward the last, when the metal 
has become more susceptible to the change 
induced by the application of the hammer, 
the annealing must be very carefully attended 
to, and tlie whole process be conducted with 
much skill and judgment acquired by long 
experience. 

For larger and more common hollow ar- 
ticles, the sheet copper is folded around, and 
lapped by various sorts of joints, some of 
which are secured by rivets, and some by a 
double lap, the two edges locking into each 
other, and made close by hammering. The 
edges are also soldered either with soft 
or hard solder. For the latter an alloy is 
made for the purpose, by melting in a crucible 
a quantity of brass, and then stirring in one- 
half or one-third as much zinc, until the blue 
flame disappears. The mixture is then turn- 
ed out into a shallow pan, and when cold the 
plate is heated nearly red hot, and beaten 
on an anvil or in a mortar. This is the hard 
solder of the braziers. 

A still more important application of the 



62 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES 



copper is in the manufacture of the alloy 
known as brass ; and that called bronze also 
serves many useful purposes. The former is 
composed of copper and zinc, the latter of 
copper and tin. It is a curious fact in met- 
allurgy that brass was extensively manufac- 
tured, and used more commonly than any 
sinrrle metal or other alloy, many centuries 
before the existence of such a metal as zinc 
was known. It was prepared by melting 
copper and introducing fragments of the 
lapis calaminaris, an ore of zinc, in which 
the oxide of the metal is combined with car- 
bonic acid. Charcoal was also added to the 
mixture, and by the reaction with this the 
zinc ore was reduced to tlie metallic state, 
and at once united with the copper, without 
appearing as a distinct metal. This process 
is still in use for making brass, but the more 
common method is to introduce slips of 
copper into melted zinc, or to plunge beneath 
melted copper hnnps of zinc held in iron 
tongs. The proportion of the two metals is 
always uncertain, owing to the unknown 
quantity of zinc that is consumed and es- 
capes in fumes This is prevented as much 
as possible by covering the melted metal 
witli fine charcoal, and by throwing in pieces 
of glass, which melt and cover the mixture 
with a thin protecting layer. Old brass is 
much used in making new, and the addition 
of quantities of this to the pot containingtho 
other ingredients, adds to the uncertainty of 
the composition. The best proportion of 
the two metals is believed to be two parts of 
copper to one of zinc, which is expressed by 
the term " eight-ounce brass," meaning eight 
ounces of zinc to sixteen of copper. Sixteen- 
ounce brass — the two metals being equal — 
is a beautiful golden yellow alloy called 
prince's metal. But all brass of more than 
ten ounces of zinc to the pound of copper is 
whitish, crystalline, hard, and brittle ; of less 
than ten ounces it is malleable, soft, and 
ductile. The alloys known as pinchbeck, 
Manheim gold, bath metal, etc., formerly 
much in use as imitations of gold, are about 
three to four ounce brass. 

Brass combines a number of excellent 
qualities, which adapt it for many uses. Its 
compactness, durability, strength, and soft- 
ness, render it an excellent material for fine 
work, and nothing, except tin, perhaps, is bet- 
ter adapted for shapiig in the lathe. In use 
it is not liable to rust by exposure, is easily 
kept clean, and takes a polish almost as beau- 
tiful as that of gold. It is hence a favorite 



material for the works of watches and clocks, 
almost all sorts of instruments in which great 
hardness is not essential, and for various 
houseliold utensils, and ornaments upon fur- 
niture. In thin plates it is stamped and em- 
bossed in figures, and is thus cheaply applied 
to miiny useful and ornamental purposes. 
Its ductility is such, that those sorts contain- 
ing little zinc arc beaten out, as in Dutch 
gilding, like gold-leaf itself, so as to be used 
as a cheap substitute for this in gilding in 
some cases. It is also drawn out into wire, 
often of great fineness ; and of the suitalile 
sizes of this there is a very large consumption 
in the manufacture of pins, and hooks and 
eyes. By ingenious machinery the brass 
wires are clipped to their proper length for 
pins, pointed, headed, and after being tinned, 
are stuck in paper, with very little atten- 
tion from the workmen. This manufacture 
serves to exemplify the perfection of mncliin- 
ery, and some of the most admirable of this, 
particularly that by which the finished pins 
are stuck in their papers, is a peculiarly 
American invention, and worth, to the manu- 
facturers at Waterbury alone, many tliousand 
dollars annually. The solid-headed pin, 
made somewhat after the manner in which 
cut nails are headed, was invented by two cit- 
izens of Rhode Island, Mr. Slocumand Mr.S. 
G. Reynolds. This was before the year 1840. 
The brass pins and hooks and eyes are cov- 
ered with a coating of tin by placing them 
in a barnd, togetlier with about twice their 
weight of tin in grains, several ounces of 
cream of tartar, and several gallons of warm 
water. The barrel is then made to revolve 
upon its axis, until the pins or other articles 
are perfectly clean. After this they are 
boiled in a similar mixture. 

Muih of ihe br.'iss of the ancients was 
properly bronze — that is, a compound of cop- 
per and tin. Tiiis alloy, in difierent propor- 
tions of its ingredients, is still of very great 
service. Gun metal— the material of the so- 
called brass cannon — is composed of copper 
96 to 108 parts, and tin 11 parts. The com- 
pound resists wear extremely well, but its 
strength is only about one-half that of 
wrought iron. iStatues, and lianl castings for 
machinery, are formed of this alloy. Messrs. 
Mitchell, Vance & Co., of New York, have 
been very successful in casting bronze statu- 
ettes and ornaments, clock cases, &e., which 
rival the antique bronze in beauty. One 
of the most noted foundries for the casting 
ot caimon, statues, and bronze ornaments in 



63 



ths United States is that of the Messrs. 
Ames, at Chicopee, Mas.-:. The equestrian 
statue of Washingion, in Union i-qiiare, New 
York, is one of their most succes-fiil prodnc- 
tio;is. The French l)njnze contains 2 jiarts 
of tin, 1 of lead, 6 of zinc, and 01 of copper. 
15ell-metal i-i a bronze usually consisting of 
7 parts of copper and 22 of tin. The larg- 
est bell in the country, that formerly on 
the City Hall, in New York, weighs 23,000 
pounds, and was cast in Boston. The 
largest number of bells is probaljly pro- 
duced at the foundry of the Me.-srs. ]\Ien- 
eely, at Troy, N. Y. The Chinese gong is 
now an American manufacture, composed of 
bell-metal, which, after being cast, is forged 
luider tlie hammer, between two di-ks ol' 
irun. The casting is made malleable by 
plunging, while hot, into cold water. 

As with zinc, copper forms an alloy m;de 
to imitate gold, so with tin and nickel it forms 
a combination resembling silver, known as 
(lerman silver. The proportions of the met- 
als are 8 parts of copper to either 3 or 4 each 
of tlie two other metals. This is used in the 
manufacture of spoons, forks, and other uten- 
sils, and instead of brass in various instru- 
ments. It is plated with silver, and is as 
beautiful as the genuine silver. 

Another alloy of copper and tin is the 
telescope or speculum metal, which consists 
of about one-third tin and two-thirds copper. 
It is of a steel-white color, very hard and 
brittle, and susceptible of a high polish, 
wiiich is not soon tarnished, qualities that 
cause it to be used for the mirrors of tele- 
scopes. 

Copper is largely used in the coinage, pure 
in the cent, combined with nickel in the 
three and five cent pieces, and as an alloy in 
the silver and gold pieces. ' Copper is also 
in demand both for electro-plating purposes 
and for electrotype plates, which have almost 
superseded the old stereotype plates. 

Among the later alloys of copper, is what 
is called oroide of gold, which in its best 
qualities consists of pure co]iper, 100 parts ; 
zinc or tin. 17 parts ; magnesia, G parts ;' sal- 
anmionia, 0.5 parts; quicklime, 0.125 parts ; 
tartar of commerce, 9 parts. Aluminium 
Bronze 90 parts copper and 10 of aluminium. 

'I Iiere ai e several alloys closely imitating 
silver in which copper is the largest constit- 
uent. One consists of 70 parts copper, 20 
nickel, 5,^ zinc, and 4^ cadnium. Minargent 
consists of 100 parts copper, 70 nickel, 5 
tungsten, and 1 aluminium. 



CHAPTER III. 



GOLD. 



Although the discovery of gold mines 
was tlie chief motive that led to the settle- 
ment of the American continent, those of the 
United States appear to have escaped notice 
until the present century. The only excep- 
tion to this may be in the discovery made 
by some Europeans of the gold region of 
northern Georgia at a period long antece- 
dent to the occupation of this district by the 
whites. Of this fact no written record is 
preserved ; but in working the deposit mines 
of the Nacoochoe valley, in Habersham coun- 
ty, there were discovered, about the year 
1842, various utensils and vestiges of huts, 
which evidently had been constructed by 
civilized men, and had been buried there 
several centuries. It is supposed they be- 
longed to De Soto's party, which passed 
through this region in the sixteenth century 
on their exploring expedition from Florida 
to the Mississippi river. The earlier his- 
torians hardly mention gold as even being 
supposed to exist in the colonies. Salmon, 
in the third volume of his "Modern His- 
tory," 1746, merely alludes to a gold mine 
in Virginia, which of late " had made much 
noise," but does not even natne the locality, 
and evidently attaches no importance to it. 
In Joft'erson's " Notes on Virginia" mention 
is made of the discovery of a piece of gold 
of 17 dwts. near the Rappahannock. In 
1799, as mentioned b}' Wheeler in his " His- 
tory of North Carolina," a son of Conrad 
Reed picked up a piece of gold as large as 
a small smoothing iron from the bed of a 
brook on his father's farm, in Cabarrus coun- 
t}', and its value not being known it was 
kept for several years in the house to hold 
the door open, and was then sold to a silver- 
smith for S3. 50. In Drayton's " View of 
South Carolina," 1802, the metal is stated 
to have been found on Paris Mountain, in 
Greenville district. About this time it be- 
gan to be met with in considerable lumps in 
Cabarrus county, N. C, and not long after- 
ward in Montgomer}' and Anson counties. 
At Reed's mine, in Cabarrus, the discovery 
by a negro of a lump weighing 28 lbs. avoir- 
dupois, near the same stream already referred 
to, led to increased activity in exploring the 
gravelly deposits along the courses of the 
brooks and rivers of this region, and numer- 
ous new localities of the metal were rapidly- 
discovered. A much larger proportion of 



64 



MINING IXDISTBY OF THE TSITED STATES. 



gold wEjs collected, during these earlier work- 
inss, iu coarse lumps than in the operations 
of later times — pieces of metal of one to 
several pounds weight being often found. 
Before the year 1S20, as stated in Bruce's 
Mineralogknl Journnl (vol. i., p. 125), the 
quantity of American gold received at the 
mint at Philadelphia amounted to §43,689. 
All of this was from Xorth Carolina. In 
1827 there had been received from the same 
source §110,000. But besides this amount, 
a considerable proportion of the gold prod- 
uct was consumed bv jewellers, who paid a 
better price than was received from the mint, 
and was retained by the banks, in which it 
was deposited. It also circulated to some 
extent as a medium of exchange in the min- 
ing reirion, being carried about in quills, and 
received bv the merchants usually at the rate 
of ninety cents a dwt. The total product 
of the mines must, therefore, have been 
much larger than appeai-s from the mint re- 
turns. In 1829, Virginia and South Caro- 
lina began to appear as gold-producing states 
— -there being deposited in the mint from 
the former ajold to the value of 82,500, and 
from the latter of -§3,500. The same year 
the rich gold deposits of northern Georgia 
were discovered, and suddenly became very 
productive, so that the receipts at the mint 
from this state for the year 18-30 amounted 
to §212,000. Gold mining had now become 
an established branch of the productive in- 
dustry of the states, and as its importance 
increased, the necessity was felt of the estab- 
lishment of branch mints in the mining 
region. One was constructed by act of Con- 
gress at Dablonesca, Lumpkin ciiunty, Geor- 
gia, and another at Charlotte, Mecklenburg 
county, X. C. ; and both commenced coining 
gold in 1838. From the irregular manner 
in which the gold deposits were worked, and 
their uncertain yield, the annual production 
of the mines was very variable. In a single 
year the mint at Dahlonega received and 
coined gold to the value of §600,000 ; and 
until the discovery of the California gold 
mines, the American production was estim.a- 
ted to average annually about §100,000. It 
was, however, gradually declining in impor- 
tance from the year 1845 ; and of late years 
has dwindled away, so as not to amount to 
enouijh for the support of the branch mints, 
the abolition of which by act of Congress 
was generally looked for in 1857 and 1858. 
The late introduction at the mines of Xorth 
Carolina aud Georgia of the hydraulic and 



sluice washing, which has proved highly suc- 
cessful in California, gives encouragement 
th.it these mines may again soon became as 
productive as before. 

The rock formations of the United States, 
in which gold mines are worked, follow the 
ran(;e of the Appalachians, and are produc- 
tive chiefly along their eastern side in a belt 
of country sometimes attaining a width of 
75 miles, as along the southern part of Xorth 
Carolina, and in Georgia in two distinct belts 
which are separated by a district of forma- 
tions unproductive in gold. The extreme 
northern gold mines on this range are in 
Canada East, upon the Chaudiere river and 
its tributaries, the Du Loup and the Toufle 
des Pins. In 1851 and 1852, deposits were 
worked upon these streams, and about 1,900 
dwts. were collected — found among the 
gravel which lay in the crevices formed by 
the rajjsed edges of the upturned argillaceous 
and talcose slates. The pieces were all small, 
only one weighing as much as 4 ounces. The 
returns were not sufficient to cover the out- 
lays, and the working was consequently 
abandoned. 

The next localities on the range toward 
the south which have furnished gold are in 
^'ermont, on the western border of AVind- 
sor county, in the towns of Bridgewater and 
Plymouth. At Xewfane, in Windham county, 
a piece of gold was found in 1826, which 
weighed 8i^ oz. ; but the only successful at- 
tempts to work the deposits were com- 
menced in 1859, in Windsor county, and 
have since been prosecuted to limited ex- 
tent. At Bridgewater, the gold has been 
found in place, in a quartz vein, associated 
with galena, and pyritous copper, and iron. 
It has not proved sufficiently rich to work. 
Through western Massachusetts and Connect- 
icut, and the south-east part of Xew York, 
and through Xew Jersey and Pennsylvania, 
the talcose and argillaceous slates, and the 
other rocks of the gold belt, appear to be 
unproductive in this metal, a little gold only 
having been met with in some of the ores 
worked for lead and copper in Lancaster 
county, near the borders of Maryland. 
Specimens of quartz rich in gold have been 
found in Montgomery county, in the last- 
named state ; but no mine has been worked 
there. 

In Virginia the deposit mines of Louisa 

county especially were very productive even 

in 1833, and they had not been worked long 

j before rich veins were found, and operationa 




t-^&#^l 



<e i., 



"} ^v;^i n, 







nTDEAtlLIC MDTDfG. 



By this operation, as described in the text, hills of loose materials or of decomposed slates and other 
roclis containing gold, are washed down, and the earthy matters are swept away through the sluices 
made either of wooden troughs or by excavating channels in the bed-rock. In these the coarse gold is 
caught against the bars placed at intervals across the sluices. This is a purely Califomian method, and 
has proved so effectual in collecting the little gold buried in large bodies of earth, that it is now generally 
adopted in other gold regions in which the conditions are favorable for its practice. 



— s £ 




TUNNELLING AT TABLE MOUNTAIN, CALIFOKNIA. 



This represents a common method of reaching beds of rich ores tliat He at considerable depths 
below the surface, by wliich tho labor of removing the superficial deposits is avoided. Veins of ores, 
whether lying at a steep or gentle inclination, are often explored by such tunnels driven in upon their 
course. Tho sides and roof may he protected or not, as the ground is soft or solid, by timbering. 

At the outside of tho tunnel below the railroad track is the machine called the "long torn," a shallow 
trough, ten to twenty feet long, and about sixteen inches wide. Tho lower end, which turns up gently 
from the plane of the bottom, is shod with iron and perforated with holes. The water from the mine is 
turned on the upper end, and flows up this slope and through the holes, carrying with it the finer mud 
and sand which are continually thrown into the tom. One man at the lower end keeps the mud in motion 
and removes the coarse lumps. Under the lower end of the tom is placed a "rifSo box," in which mer- 
cury may be used to advantage if the gold is in fine particles. 



T7 ^ 



r'yj ^ts^? 




LAKGK ROCKKR USED IN CALIFORNIA WITH QUICKSILVER. 



Tho above cut represents a rocker of unusual dimensions, wliich has been introduced in some places 
in California, and is employed particularly for auriferous deposits in which the gold is in too line particles 
to be caught in the long torn. It is slightly inclined, and is rocked by one man while the others collect 
the gravel and throw it upon the perforated iron plate. Across the bottom of tho trough are placed 
"riffle bars," and behind each one of these some mercury. The fine particles of gold coming in contacl 
with this are caught and retained in the form of amalgam. The coarse gravel falls off the lower end of 
the plate, while the fine mud and sand are washed by the water through the holes in the plate. 




sT,\5iPS Fou cursiiiNii ctu.ii ujm:s 



This cut represents a common funii of stumps, sucli as are used for pulverizinif auriferous quartz 
or otlier ores. They are A^ariously arranged at dirt'erent nulls ; sometimes four or five running in one 
set, and several sets beini; jilaced on the same line, liut separate from each other. This arran>;ement is 
more convenient for stopping a portion at a time as may be required for repairs or for collecting the very 
coarse gold under the stamps which cannot pass through the grating or the plates, perforated with many 
holes, that are usually employed in front of the stamps. 



GOLD. 



69 



upon these had been carried on to consider- 
able extent previous to 1836, principall}' in 
the counties of Spottsylvania, Orange, Louisa, 
Fluvanna, and Buckingham. Some of the 
mines produced at times very rich returns, but 
their yield was, for the most part, exceedingly 
irregular, the gold occurring in rich pockets 
or nests, very unequally scattered in the vein. 
The occasional richness of the veins caused 
the attention of wealthy capitalists in this 
country and in England to be directed to 
this region, and large outlays were made, in 
providing powerful engines and other suita- 
ble machinery for working the ores, and in 
opening the mines. But, although the oper- 
ations have been directed by the best mining 
skill, supported by abundant capital, the en- 
terprise, on the whole, has not proved suc- 
cessful, and since 1853 the business has 
greatly declined in importance. 

In North Carolina numerous quartz veins 
have been worked during the last 30 years, 
and operations arc still carried on with mod- 
erate success at several mines in Guilford, 
Davidson, Montgomery, Cabarrus, Itowan, 
and Mecklenburg counties. Deposit mines 
have been worked with great success, also, 
iu Burke, Rutherford, and McDowell coun- 
ties. At a single time, it is stated, there 
might have been seen, from one point of 
view in McDowell county, no less than 3,000 
persons engaged in washing the deposits. 
In this district sluice-washing has recently 
been successfully introduced by Dr. Van 
Dyke, who is also engaged in the same proc- 
ess in Georgia. The most important group 
of mines is at Gold Hill, on the southern 
line of Kowan and Cabarrus counties. Mm- 
ing operations were begun here in 1843, and 
for 10 years the annual product averaged 
about §100,000; the last four years of this 
period more than one-third of all the gold 
coined at the Charlotte mint was from Gold 
Hill. In 1853 the property was purchased 
by a New York company, by which it has 
since been worked, but with greatly reduced 
profits, althou(;h the mines have been fur- 
nished with the most efficient machinery. 
These are the deepest gold mines in the At- 
lantic states, one of the shafts having now 
reached the depth of 680 feet. The ore is pyr- 
itous iron, containing gold in particles rarely 
visible, and probably chcniically combined 
with the iron and sulphur in the form of a 
double sulphuret. It is separated with difficul- 
ty, and very imperfectly, by the processes of 
crushing and amalgamating ; and the immense 



heaps of tailings collected below the mines, 
amounting probably to over two million bush- 
els, still retain quantities of gold worth from 
fifty cents to two dollars the bushel. In Da- 
vidson county amine was opened in 1839, 
which produced in the three succeeding 
years about $7,000 worth of gold, when the 
ore was proved to be more valuable for sil- 
ver than for gold. These metals were as- 
sociated with a variety of metallic ores, 
among which the sulphuret, carbonate, and 
phosphate of lead were especially abundant. 
I'^urnaces were constructed for reducing these, 
and separating the silver obtained with the 
lead. This is the only mine east of the 
Rocky Mountains which has furnished any 
considerable amount of silver to the mint. 
It is now known as the Washington mine. 

Although many gold mines have been 
worked in South Carolina, the only one of 
much note is the Dorn mine, in Abbeville 
district. In 1850 this mine, then quite new, 
produced gold to the value of §19,000, and 
in 1852 the production rose to $202,216, al- 
though the mine was provided with very im- 
perfect machinery and worked in a very 
rude manner. This large yield was, how- 
ever, of short duration, the gold occurring 
in great quantity only in streaks or pocket* 
upon a short portion of the vein. 

The Georgia gold mines, first worked in 
the north-east part of the state in 1829, were 
soon found to extend south-west into the 
country beyond the Chestatee river, which 
was then possessed by the Cherokee Indians. 
In 1830 the borders of this territory were 
overrun by a reckless set of adventurers, not- 
withstanding the attempts made, tii'st by a 
force of United States troops stationed for 
the protection of the Indians, and afterward 
by Georgia troops, when the state extended 
her laws in 1830 over the Cherokee country. 
On the removal of the Indians, their lands 
were distributed in 40 acre lots, by lottery, 
among the inhabitants of the state, and thus 
titles were obtained to the gold mines. The 
deposit mines yielded richly for a few years, 
and the whole product of gold for the first 
ten years of their working is supposed to 
have amounted to $16,000,000, a large por- 
tion of which never reached the United States 
mints, but was distributed in barter through- 
out the neighboring states and worked up in 
jewelry. From 1839 to 1849 the produc- 
tion did not probably exceed $4,000,000. A 
number of quartz veins were opened in Hab- 
ersham, Lumpkin, Cherokee, Carroll, Colum- 



10 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



bia, and other counties, and considerable 
amounts of gold were obtained from these. 
They were, however, generally abandoned 
when the workings reached a depth at which 
machinery would be required for draining 
the mines. In Columbia county, about 20 
miles from Augusta, the McCormack mine 
has been worked without interruption for 
about 20 years steadily, producing very fair 
profits. The gold is found in small particles 
in a lioney-combed quartz, wliich contains 
but little pyrites and some galena. Nearly 
all the gold was obtained within 70 feet of 
the surface. 

In Lumpkin county the gold is found in 
immense beds of decomposed micaceous and 
talcose slates, which, too poor to be worked 
by the slow process of crushing the whole 
material in mills and then washing away the 
earthy matter, will probably well repay the 
more tlxirough system of operations accord- 
ing to the California hydraulic process. Af- 
ter these beds had renuiiued neglected for 
many years. Dr. II. M. Van Dyke, who had 
gained experience in California, and already 
applied it in introducing the system into 
North California, found in Boston, Mass., 
capitalists who agreed to furnish the money 
required for securing the richest tracts in the 
vicinity of Dahlonega, and conveying to 
them the water for washing down the hills 
on the plan, which will be more particularl}' 
noticed in speaking of the California mines. 
In 1858 he commenced operations, which 
have since been actively conducted ; taking 
the water of the Yahoola river at a point 
about 13 miles above the spot where it will 
be first used, and conveying it by a canal or 
ditch over the more elevated portion of the 
country, crossing the valleys by means of 
sluices supported upon trestle-work, the 
height of which gradually increases with the 
descent of the streams, until at the crossing 
of the Yahoola near Dahlonega tlie liigh 
trestle now in construction is at the level of 
24-0 feet above the bed of the river, with a 
span between the hills of 1,400 feet. Be- 
yond this crossing the canal is to be extended 
two miles further, to reach the rich deposits 
upon which the hose washing will be first 
applied. It is expected that the arrange- 
ments will bo completed early in 18iil, and 
that from the numerous localities coytrolled 
by the company, at which the water can be 
used to advantage, the proceeds will revive 
the reputation of the Georgia gold mines. 

Another association was formed in Bostop 



in 1857, called the Nacoochee Hydraulic 
Mining Company, for the purpose of apply- 
ing the same system to the high grounds in 
White county, recently a part of Haber- 
sham, in which are tlie mines of the Nacoo- 
chee valley and its vicinity, at one period 
highly productive, and where many deposits 
exist at so great an elevation, that no water 
has heretofore been brought to bear upon 
them. By damming the Nacoochee river, 
this company can carry water to these points ; 
and their arrangements are already nearly 
completed. In some experimental trials they 
I have, by the use of a current of water that 
would How through a six-inch pipe, obtained 
several hundred dollars per week with the 
labor of two miners. From one spot more 
than 1,500 dwts. were washed out in small 
1 nuggets, several of about 1 00 dwts. each, and 
■ one of 3s7 dwts. The value of these is $1 
' the dwt., and of the gold dust 97 cents. 
The auriferous belt of rocks consists of al- 
I ternating beds of micaceous, hornblende, and 
talcose slates and gneiss, which stand nearly 
vertically, and contain between their layers 
bands of quartz. The gold is found in the 
quartz and in the auriferous pyrites accom- 
panying it, and to some extent in the slates 
also. Detached or " free" gold is also met 
with, derived, no doubt, from pyrites which 
has decomposed and disappeared. From 
the general disintegr.ation of the edges of 
these strata, gold has been distributed in the 
deposits around. 

From Georgia, the gold-bearing rocks are 
traced into eastern Tennessee, where tliey 
have been worked along the range of the 
Coweta and Smoky Mountains; and from 
the south side of the Blue Ridge, in Georgia, 
they have proved productive in a south-west 
direction, through Carroll county, into Ala- 
bama; but the formation is soon lost in the 
last-named state. 

The gold regions along both slopes of the 
Rocky Mountains are, however, the most re- 
markable yet discovered on this continent. 
In CoLOR.\DO, "the whole range of moun- 
tains seems crowded with veins of rich 
mineral ore. They run into and through 
the hill sides like the bars of a gridiron — 
every hundred feet, every fiftj' feet, every 
twenty feet." The first and largest develop- 
ment of these mmos lies along and up the 
Clear Creek and centres around its sources. 
The principal mining villages of this section 
are Central City, Black Hawk and Nevada. 
Another centre of productive mining interests 



71 



is ill the South Piirk. The gold in Colorado 
is combined witli sul|iliiiv and forms a sort 
of pyrites. Tliis renders its extraction more 
dirtiiuilt; but processes have lately been de- 
vised which, without increasing materially 
the expense, will raise the prodnction of gold 
per cord of ore to three or five-fold what it 
has hitherto been. There are also large 
deposits of gold in New Mexico and Utah, 
which are not yet developed to any con- 
siderable extent. 

Idaho and Montana are also immensely 
rich in gold mines and placers. The Boise 
Basin, in Idaho, has yielded, and still yields 
to the placer miner in many parts a fair re- 
turn for his labor, and possesses, beside, 
many valuablo gold-bearing quartz leads. 
The South Boise has also many valuable 
leads. The Owyhee mines, sixty miles south 
of Boise City. They are almost entirely 
silver-producing, though some gold is ex- 
tracted from the silver. In Montana, the 
placer diggings are yet paying largely, and 
the quartz leads are richer in gold than in 
any section yet discovered; and the two 
localities which have been thus far princi- 
pally worked, Alder Gulch, and the vicinity 
of Helena, about one hundred and fifty 
miles apart, are yielding both gold and sil- 
ver in gi-eat profusion. 

Still another region rich in gold, richer 
perhaps than either of the others, though as 
yet developed with difficulty, on account of 
the hostile and treacherous Indians who 
roam over it, is the Territory of Arizona. Its 
gulches and canons abound in the precious 
metal, and it cannot be long before they 
yield in profusion their long liidden wealth. 
The completion of the Pacific railroad will 
soon make this wealth available. 

The most important gold region of the 
United States and of the world is that of 
California. Its development has not only 
largely multiplied the previous gold produc- 
tion of the globe, but it has been the means 
of rapidly bringing into the use of civilized 
nations large territories of productive lands, 
which before were an unprofitable wilderness, 
founding new states, enlarging the commerce 
of the world, and bringing into closer inter- 
course nations which before were the most 
"widely separated. At the period when the 
wealth of the gold mines of California began 
to be realized, the annual production of gold 
throughiuit the world had gradually fallen to 
about $20,000,000, and more than half of 
this was furnished by Russia alone. In 1853, 



only five years later, California produced an 
amount estimated at §70,000,000, and the 
total production, through the supplies, nearly 
as large, funiislicd at the same time by 
Australia, had increased to almost double 
this amount. Little was known of California 
previous to the discovery of gold at Sutter's 
mill, on the American fork of the Sacramento, 
in February, 1848; yet its being a country 
containing gold was made known by Ilak- 
luyt in his account of Drake's ex[)cd;tion of 
1577-9, and by Cavello, a Jesuit priest of 
San Jose, Bay of Francisco, who published a 
work on the country in Spain in 1(590. Re- 
ports from later travellers confirmed these 
statements at various times, and in Hunfs 
Merchants^ Mar/azine for April, 1 847, a report 
is presented by Mr. Sloat, which speaks in 
very decided terras of the richness of the 
gold placers of the country, as noticed by 
him during his observations of the two pre- 
ceding years. The Rev. C. S. Lyman, in a 
letter written to the editor of the American 
Journal of Science from San Jose, in March 
1848, notices the discovery of the preceding 
month as very promising. In August of that 
year it was reported that four thousand men 
were engaged in working the deposits on the 
American fork, and were taking out from 
830,000 to $40,000 a day. This com- 
prised a large portion of the population of 
California. San Francisco was almost de- 
serted, and people were pouring in from 
distant regions. The next year the emigra- 
tion commenced in the LTnited States, both 
by sea around Cape Horn, and across the 
plains and Rocky Mountains in large parties. 
By the close of the year 1849 the number 
of persons engaged in mining was estimated 
at from 40,000 to 50,000 Americans, and 
about 5,000 foreigners: the total product of 
gold at about $40,000,000. The mining 
district was traced up the valley of the 
Sacramento toward the north, and the con- 
tinuation of the .same formations up that of 
the San Joaquin in the opposite direction was 
also beginning to be understood. Along the 
vallej's of the streams, which flowed into 
these rivers from the Sierra Nevada range to 
the east, gold was almost everywhere found, 
and upon the hills and elevated plains it was 
met with beneath the sands and clays which 
covered tlie surface to the depth of fifteen to 
thirty feet or more ; all the materials, earthy 
and metallic, appearing either to have been 
derived from the superficial disintegration of 
the slaty formations, or to have been depos- 



V2 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



ited by ancient rivers, whlcli have since been 
diverted in other directions. Deposits of 
this character were called dry diggings, and, 
except in the wet season, were worked to 
great disadvantage for the want of water to 
separate the earthy matters from the gold. 
In the bottoms of the streams the deposits 
contained much coarse gold, derived from 
the wearing down of the slate formations 
through which they had made their way in 
their rapid descent from the Sierra Nevada 
mountains. By the excavation of the vast 
gulches or ravines of these streams, some of 
which presented precipitous walls of about 
3,000 feet in height, au immense amount of 
gold must have been rem<)\cd from its orig- 
inal beds, which, as tlie lighter earthy mat- 
ters were swept down the rivers, remained 
behind, forming the riches of the auriferous 
deposits. The country of this peculiar 
character ■w^s found to extend along the 
western slopes of the Sierra Nevada for 400 
or 500 miles, and the gold-bearing slates to 
spread over a width of from forty to sixty 
miles. 

Whether or no the natural processes by 
which the gold had been collected from its 
original beds suggested to the California 
miner an improved method of washing the 
auriferous formations upon a gigantic scale, 
it was soon found that the richness of the de- 
posits would justify, especially in the dry 
diggings, large outlays in conveying water 
from great distances by canals or ditches, 
and applying this, either under the pressure 
of a great head, to tear up the material from 
its bed and wash away the earthy portions, 
or to wash the auriferous gravels as these 
were carried to the water sluices and thrown 
into them for this purpose. On this plan 
hydraulic operations were soon laid out of 
extraordinary extent. Currents were di- 
verted well up the slope of the Sierra Nevada 
mountains, and conveyed in canals along the 
sides of the hills, and in sluices, supported 
upon trestle-work, from one hill to another, 
sometimes at a height of more than 200 feet 
above the bottoms. On the hills where the 
water was required for " hose washing," it 
was taken fmm the canal or sluice in a large 
and strong canvas liose, to the lower end of 
which a nozzle, like that of a fire engine, was 
attached. The least head for efficient ser- 
vice was about 60 feet, and a head of 100 
feet was used where it could be liad and the 
hose would bear it. Large hose and nozzles 
proved much more efficient than several 



smaller ones of equal or even greater capac- 
ity. As estimated by Mr. Wm. P. Blake, 
with a pipe of an inch and a half or two inches 
aperture, and a pressure of 90 feet head, 
a boy can excavate and wash as much aurif- 
erous earth as 1 or 1 5 men by the ordinary 
methods. In suitable places, where the waste 
water can flow rapidly away though the 
sluices made for its channel and for catching 
tlie gold, the jet of water is directed against 
the side of a hill, which it rapidly excavates, 
sweeping oft' the earthy portions, undermin- 
ing the trees, and rolling down the loose 
stones, and, where the ground is fiivorable 
for the opei'ation, cutting every thing awa}', 
it may be to a depth of 100 feet from the 
top to the bottom of the excavation, leaving 
behind barren acres of loose stone in un- 
sightly piles — a perfect picture of desola- 
tion. At the close of the year 1858 it was 
estimated that the artificial water-courses al- 
ready constructed for mining purposes in 
California amounted to 5,726 miles in length, 
and their cost to $13, 575, 400 ; and besides 
these there were branches not enumerated, 
and others in construction, to the extent of 
about 1,000 miles more. Among the prin- 
cipal of these canals are the Columbia and 
Stanislaus, in Tuolumne count}', which is 
80 miles long, and cost $600,(i00 ; the Butte, 
in Amador county, 50 miles long, cost 
$400,000 ; that of the Union Water Com- 
pany, in Calaveras county, 78 miles long, 
cost $320,000; and that of tlie Tuolumne 
Hydraulic Companj', 60 miles long, cost 
$300,000. Notwithstanding the cost of 
tliese enterprises, they have proved in gen- 
eral highly profitable, paying, after deducting 
the expenses of keeping them up, from one to 
more than five per cent, a montli. The water 
is sold to the miners by the canal companies 
at so much per inch of the discharge — this 
being from a horizontal aperture, one inch 
high, at the bottom of a box in which the 
water is kept six inches deep. The length 
of the aperture is i^gulated by a slide. The 
price has fallen ffom $3.00 an inch per day 
in 1851, to 50 cents in 1854, and is now 
still less. 

Sluice-washing, which is a necessary part, 
of the hydraulic or hose process, is also 
carried on independently of it, and by a 
method which was first adopted in Califor- 
nia. Channels are made sometimes upon 
the surface of the slaty beds in place, the 
ragged edges of which are very favorable for 
catching the gold, or sometimes of boards, 



GOLD. 



73 



in the form of an open trough, a foot or 15 
inches in width, and 8 or ten inches deep, 
which are extended to several hundred feet 
in length. These are set at a suitable slope, 
usually about one in twelve, and " riffle " bars 
are laid across to obstruct the flow of the 
heavy metallic particles which sweep along 
the bottom, while the muddy portions and 
stones are carried over with a flow of the 
water, and discharged at the lower end. 
Fresh gravel is continually shoveled into 
the sluices, and once a day, or oftener, these 
are cleaned up to collect the gold from the 
riffles and pools, which are sometimes used 
at the head of one joitit of the sluice to re- 
ceive the discharge from the next one above. 
Where the descent is rapid enough to keep 
the pool " in a boil," a considerable portion 
of the gold may be caught in it, especially if 
mercury be introduced. 

In 1851, attention began to be turned to 
the quartz veins, or "ledges," as they wore 
called, and numerous companies were soon 
established in the United States and in Eng- 
land for carrying on regular mining opera- 
tions upon these. Within five years after, 
many deep shafts had been sunk upon veins 
in different parts of the country, and mills 
wire in operation, furnished with the most 
efficient machinery for crushing and wash- 
ing the ore. The imcerlain supply of wa- 
ter, and the great expense attending the pro- 
curing it by canals from a distance, operated 
for a time strongly against the success of 
these works. Upon the Mariposa estate, 
once the property of Gen. J. C. Fremont, 
one of the earliest and most extensive ex- 
periments in quartz mining was made. The 
quartz veins on that estate were not so rich 
as some which have since been discovered 
elsewhere, yielding by the old ISIexican pro- 
cess with the arasteus only eight or nine 
dollars to the ton. By a new and improved 
method, known as the " Eureka Process," 
the jiekl was increased to forty or fifty dol- 
lars jier ton, and from the Princeton mine 
alone over three million diillars were taken 
out before 18G7. Had this noble property 
been wisely or well managed, it would have 
made the General the wealthiest of Ameri- 
can millionaires ; but, unfortunatel}', prose- 
cuting his great schemes too rapidly, he fell 
into the hands of men who stripped him of 
his grand estate and squandered its profits. 

But whatever may be the ultimate fiite of 
this great estate, the success of quartz mining 



in California is assured; there were in the 
State, in the spring of 1868, 472 quartz 
mills carrying a total of 5,120 stamps, and 
nearly all were doing a profitable business. 
There is, of course, a great difference in the 
yield of different veins ; some after a period 
of great productiveness, coming upon a con- 
siderable stretch of barren quartz, where the 
yield is insufficient to pay expenses, and then 
passing on to a gangue richer and more pro- 
ductive than the portion of the vein first 
opened. Others will have the precious 
metal in " chutes " or " chimneys " scattered 
here and there along the course of the vein, 
which are enormously productive while the 
intervening portions are entirely barren. 
Others still will yield a steady and very uni- 
form percentage, not large but fair. In 
general it may be said that quartz mining 
yields a more certain though more moderate 
success than any other kind of gold mining. 
The total production of the mines of Cali- 
fornia, from the commencement of extensive 
mining there to the year 18711, was as fol- 
lows, according to the best authorities : 



1848 $10,000,000 

1849 40,000.000 

1850, 50,000,000 

1851, 55,000,000 

1852 60,000,000 

18.53 65,000,000 

1854, 60,000,000 

1855, 55,000,000 

1856, 55,000,0(10 

1857 55, ,100,000 

1858 50,000,000 

1859, 50.000,000 



1860 £45.000,000 

1861 40,000,000 

1862 34,700,("00 

1863, 30,000,000 

1864 26,600,000 

1865 28,500,000 

1866, 26,500,000 

1867, 25,000,000 

1868 28,000,000 

18C9, 27,800,000 

1870, 28,500,000 



¥945,600,000 



The deposits of gold at the mint, and its 
branches, for the year ending June 30, 1870, 
were $29,48o,'J(53.45. Of silver, for the 
same time, $3,504,942.51. Total deposits 
$32,990,210.96. 

The coinage for the same period was — 
gold coin, number of pieces, 1,156,087 ; val- 
ue, $22,257,312.50; unparted and fine gold 
bars, $87,846,052.25 ; silver coin, pieces, 
4.649,398 ; value, $1,767,253.50 ; silver 
bars, $9112,800.66 ; nickel, copper, and bronze 
pieces, 18,154,000; value. $611,445; total 
number of pieces struck, 23,961,'292 ; total 
value of coinage, $33,384,863.91. 

New localities are tested by trying the 
earth in different places, by washing it in an 
iron pan or upon a shovel, an experienced 
hand readily throwing the heavy particles 
by themselves, while the lighter are allowed 
to flow away. This method is one of the 



74 



MINIKQ INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES 



means in use for collecting gold upon a 
small scale, and the Mexicans of the gold 
regions, by long practice, arc particularly 
expert in it. If a vein is to be tested, the 
quartz is finely crushed, and the powder is 
then washed in the same manner. Gold 
may be thus brought to view when none 
was visible in the stones, however closely ex- 
amined, liy placing a little mercury or 
quicksilver in the pan, the gold will be more 
perfectly secured, as, by coming in contact 
with each other, these metals instantly unite 
to f )riu a heavy amalgam, and the mercury 
thus holds the linest particles of gold so that 
they cannot escape. The mixture, separated 
from the sand, is squeezed in a piece of thick 
linen or deerskin, through which the excess 
of mercury escapes, leaving the amalgam. 
This may then be heated on a shovel, when 
the mercury goes oft" in vapor, and the gold 
is left in its original-shaped particles, coher- 
ing together in a cake. If the quantity of 
amalgam is considerable, it is distilled in a 
retort, and the mercury is condensed to be 
used again. This amalgamation fails entirely 
if the slightest quantity of any greasy sub- 
stance is present, as a film of the gi'case coats 
every portion of the mercury, and eft'ectually 
prevents its contact with the gold. These 
processes contain the principles of nearly all 
the methods in use for separating gold. A 
great variety of machines liave been based 
upon them, the sinqslost of which have proved 
the most valuable. The Burke rocker has 
always been a favorite machine in the south- 
ern states, and has been largely used in Cali- 
fornia by small companies of miners, and in 
localities where operations were not carried 







Nn\ .'ij'^V* >^-». 



BUBKE ROCKIB. 



on upon a very extensive scale. It is a cradle- 
shaped trough, about six feet long, set on 
two rockers, the upper end a few inches 
higher than the lower, and placed so as to 
receive at its head a current of water from 
the end of a leading trough above. This 
falls upon a perforated iron plate, set as a 
shelf in the machine, and u])on this the 
auriferous gravel is thrown. The finer par- 
ticles fall through as the rocker is kept in 
motion by hand, and the coarse gravel rolls 
down to the lower end, and falls off upon 
the ground. Across the bottom of the 
rocker are placed, at intervals of G or 8 
inches, low bars or partitions which catch 
the heavy sands, and prevent their being 
washed out of the lower end with the water 
and mud. This lower portion is sometimes 
arranged as a drijwer, which can be secured 
by a lock, so that the gold which falls into 
it is safe against robbery. The drawer is 
called the " riftle box." Some rockers are 
mere open troughs without a shelf. The 
" tom" is often preferred to the rocker, which 
it resembles, except in its being a trough 
without rockers, on the plan of the sluices 
alreadv described. I'oth it and the rocker 
are of convenient size for moving about from 
one place to another, as the working of the 
deposit advances. 

Vein mining requires more efficient ma- 
chinery, and stamping mills are constructed 
as near as may be to the mines, for reducing 
the stony materials to powder, and the sands 
from the stamps are passed through a variety 
of machines designed to catch the gold. 
Stamps arc solid blocks of the heaviest cast 
iron attached to the end of a wooden or iron 
rod called the leg, to which the lifting cam 
is apiilied for raising them. They common- 
ly weigh about 300 llis. each, though in 
California they are made of twice and even 
three times this weight. Several of tliera 
are set ton-ether in a frame side by side, and 
are lifted in succession by the cams upon a 
horizontal shaft, which revolves in front of 
them. The bed in which they stand, and 
into which the ore to be crushed is thrown, 
is sometimes a massive anvil, hollow in the 
top, firmly imbedded in a heavy stick of 
timber, or is formed of stones, beaten by the 
stanqis themselves into a soli<t bed. Water 
is usually supplied in small currents to the 
stamps, and sometimes mercury also is pour- 
ed into the bed. Tiie only exit for the 
crushed materials is through .small holes 
punched in a sheet of copper, of which the 




VOSEMITt VALLEY. 




FATIII l; Ml lllJi roKKM. 




PROSFECTER IX CALIFUKMA liul.ll Ml.NES. 




CHINESE IN CALIFORNIA (.i il.li MINES, 



75 



side of the boxing around the stamps is form- 
ed, opposite to that at which the ore is fed. 
Through these holes the mud and water 
are projected with every blow into a capa- 
cious box, the floor of which inclines gently 
back toward the stamp, and contains along 
this edge a quantity of mercury, in which a 
considerable portion of the gold is caught. 
From the box a spout leads the current into 
the other machines, often through an inclined 
trough, in the bottom of which baize or 
blanket stuff is laid for the purpose of en- 
tangling in its fibres the particles of gold 
that are swept along. These are frequently 
taken up and cleaned. Aftich of the gold, 
however, alwavs escapes them, and the cur- 
rent is variously treated before it is finally 
allowed to flow away. The sands require to 
be more finely pulverized, and the current 
first flows into mills of some sort, as the 
Chilian mill, arrastre, etc. The former con- 
sists of a pair of heavy wheels of granite, from 
four to six feet in diameter when new, set in 
a horizontal frame, one on each side of an 
upright shaft, and carried around with the 
shaft as it revolves upon its axis. The stones 



They revolve in a water-tight box or tub 
upon a granite floor. Sometimes they are 
used in the place of stamps for breaking up 
the coarse ore ; and worked at the rate of 
eight to twelve revolutions a minute, they 
should crush to fine sand from one to two 
tons of quartz in twelve hours. The water, 
which flows in one side the tub, passes out 
over the opposite edge with the light slime 
and fine mud, while much of the gold re- 
mains in the bottom, .caught by the mercury 
placed there to secure it. The arrastre is 
something like the Chilian mill, only instead 
of revolving stones, heavy flat ones are drag- 
ged round with the shaft by chains, secured 
to the horizontal arms. These machines in 
Mexico are worked by horses or mules, but 
in this country by water or steam power. 
The slowness of their operation is not regard- 
ed as an objectionable feature, but on the 
contrary is favorable for effectually securing 
the gold. Among the simplest and best 
cimtrivances employed below the Chilian 
mill are the " shaking tables." These are 
platforms seven or eight feet long, of plank 
in a single piece, as wide as can be procured. 




CRUSHING HILL, OR ARRASTRE, 



being as close as possible to the shaft, have 
a twisting motion which acts powerfully to 
grind the particles crushed by their weight. 
5* 



The planks, of two inches thickness, aro 
worked down from a line across the middle 
to a thin edge at one end, and from the other 



76 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



end they are made to diminish to half an 
inch thicliness at the line across the middle. 
Each one is furnislied with sides, and a strip 
acros-i the thin end of si.v inches in height, 
the jiiining made perfectly tight, and is tlien 
swung between four posts in a horizontal 
position by four rods or chains, which sliould 
be at least eight f'Ct long. Mercury is pour- 
ed into the two divisions, until they are 
more than half filled. The sands are made 
to flow in upon the thin end, and are receiv- 
ed upon the surface of the mercury ; and the 
table is made to swing forward and back by 
ihe revolution of a crank. By the motion 
the sands are mixed in with the mercury, 
and swept along in successive waves, and 
falling over the middle ridge are treated in 
the same manner in the succeeding division. 
The mercury is retained by its weight in the 
depressed portions of the table, and the wa- 
ter and sands are discharged over the open 
end. Of the numerous machines designed 
for effecting the amalgamation of the gold 
patented within the last few years ; few in- 
volve any new principles, but are merely 
modiKed forms of the old contrivances. Prof. 
A. K. Eaton, of New York, found that amal- 
gamated metallic surl'aces could be made to 
collect most completely the very fine parti- 
cles of gold, which by all other processes it 
has been found impossible to secure. The 
use of copper, brass, or zinc proved trouble- 
f-ome and impracticable fmm the rapidity 
with which they were dissolved in the mer- 
cury, adulterating the amalgam. An amal- 
gamated iron surface proved to be free from 
this objection, and the following description 
of apparatus was finally decided on as the 
most elficient: A circular plate of wrought 
iron is amalgamated over what is intended 
to be its inferior surface, and an open tube 
is fixed in its center, rising three or four feet 
liigli, and furnished at the top with a bowd 
or funnel. This tul)e and disk are supported 
upon a surface of mercury contained in a 
shallow tub of larger diameter than the disk, 
a frame-woi-k being attached to the tub for 
this purf)ose. A pulley is fixed upon the 
hollow shaft, so that a belt may be attached 
for causing the disk to rotate upon the mer- 
cury. The sands are fed with water into 
the funnel at the top of the tube, and the 
pre>sure caused by the height of the column 
carries them down upon tie mercurial sur- 
face, and, by reason of this p-issure and the 
centrifugal action of tiie re\olving disk, they 
gradually work outward between this sur- 



face and the amalgamated surface above, be- 
ing pressed an J rubbed between them till 
they escape round the circumference of the 
disk, and flow over the edge of the tub. 
Hot water, as in all other modes of amalga- 
mating, is preferable to cold. l?y this pro- 
cess all free gold, however fine the particles, 
must come in contact with the amalgamated 
surface, and be taken up by the mercury. 
It perfectly separates the gold that in other 
machrnes floats off in the fine slime. In gold 
ores, especially those of sulphurous character, 
much of the gold is so fine that it remains 
suspended a long time in water, and is en- 
tirely lost. Tilt! important feature of this 
invention is the use of an inferior amalga- 
mated surface, against which these floating 
particles are pressed. The pressure is se- 
cured by any desired depth of the mercury, 
but in practice less than an inch above the 
lower edge of the plate is found to be suffi- 
cient. The efficiency of the machine was 
fully tested in November, 1860, at the Gold 
Hill mine, in North Carolina, where good 
results were obtained with it. In the same 
month it was tried at the U. S. assay office, 
N. y ., upon the tailings of the sweeps from 
which all the gold had been extracted that 
could be removed by the amalgamating ma- 
chines in use, and from these it readily sepa- 
rated the remaining portion. 

As remarked in the mention made of the 
Gold Hill mines, when gold is associated 
with iron and copper pyrites it is held verj' 
tenaciously, as if combined itself with the 
suli)hur, like the other metals. However 
finely such ores are pulverized, every micro- 
scopic particle of pyrites appears to retain a 
portion of gold, .and prevent its uniting with 
the mercury. This portion of the gold, con- 
sequently, escapes in the tailings ; and if 
these are kept in refuse heaps, exposed to 
the weather, the pyrites slowly decompose, 
and more gold is continually set free. Thus 
it is the heaps may be washed over with 
profit tor many successive years. Roasting 
of the ores is recommended by high authori- 
ties for freeing the gold at once, the effect 
of it being to break up the sulphurets, caus- 
ing the sulphur to escape in vapor, and tlie 
iron to crumble down in the state of an oxide, 
or an ochreous powder, from which the gold 
is readily separated. This is objected to by 
others, who assert that it involves a great 
loss of gold, which is volatilized or carried 
off mechanically in the sul])hur fumes. Two 
other methods adopted, since 1857, for the 






'immmwr/zfyy /«)| 




GOLD. 



77 



leiluction of those ores containing large pro- 
portions of the sulphurets of iron and cop- 
per, deserve notice — viz. .the " Sodium Amal- 
gamating Process," and the " Plattner 
Chlorination Process." 

The use of the Sodium in mechanical com- 
bination -with mercury to oxidize and thus 
remove more readih' the impurities, sulphur, 
arsenic, and antimon}', which interfere with 
the reduction or extraction of gold from the 
quartz, was suggested about 1861, and has 
been made the subject of two jjatents, one 
by Dr. Chas. Wurtz in New York, in 18G4, 
the other by Mr. Crookes, of London, in 
186.T. It has proved very successful in Col- 
orado, Nova Scotia, and California, in those 
mines where the gold was so difficult of ex- 
traction, on account of the presence of a 
large percentage of refractory p3'rites. The 
yield of gold from these ores has been in- 
creased from 20 to 30 per cent. The sodium 
is however as yet so costly, that it is only 
the richer ores in which it pays, commercial- 
ly, to use it. Amalgams are now put up 
according to the formula; of the patentees, 
containing the requisite quantity of sodium 
in combination with other metallic com- 
pounds. These are to be used, according 
to the amount of concentration, with from 
20 to 150 times their weight of mercury. 
The Amalgam varies from SI. 2.5 to !?1.75 
per pound. Recently it has been announc- 
ed that cyanide of potassium was to be 
preferred for this purpose to sodium — 
while it is much cheaper. The Plattner 
chlorination j)rocess requires as a prelimin- 
ary a double roasting of the ores, the fii-st 
time at a low heat to oxidize the ore and 
burn out, as far as possible, the sulphurets 
and other impurities, and the second time, at 
a higher heat, to decompose the metallic salts 
f )rmed at the first roasting. If sulphates 
of lime and magnesia are jiresent they are 
removed by the addition of some common 
salt to the roasting mass. When the roast- 
ing is completed the ore is discharged from 
the furna 'e and allowed to cool, and then 
being damped is sifted into a large vat, lined 
with bitumen, and having a false bottom on 
which rests a filter composed of broken 
quartz and sand. The vat is provided with 
a close-fitting cover which can be luted on 
and made air-tight. The chlorine is then 
generated in a leaden vessel by means of 
sulphuric acid, and conducted into the bot- 
tom of the vat through a leaden jiipe. As 
it passes up through the ore more ore is 



sifted in and the vat is gradually thoroughly 
charged with the gas, when the cover, having 
been luted on and all escape prevented, and 
the whole allowed to stand for twelve or 
eighteen hours the gold is completely chlori- 
dized. Water is then introduced which ab- 
sorbs the chlorine and dissolves the chloride 
of gold, and a stream of w-ater is permitted to 
run in at the top of the vat till the lixiviation 
is coinplete. The residue in the vat is then 
thrown away, and the solution of chloride of 
gold goes to the precipitating vat when a 
solution of proto-sulphate of iron is added 
to it, and it is permitted to stand for eight 
or ten hours. The water is then carefully 
drawn oft', the precipitated gold collected 
upon a paper filter, dried, melted and run 
into bars. This gold will be, if the process 
is carefully conducted, 999 fine, or almost 
absolutely pure gold. 

In the " branch mining " of the southern 
states, deposits worked by the rocker are 
regarded as profitable which pay a penny- 
weight or nearly one dollar per day to the 
hand employed. The great Iseds of decom- 
posed slates of Georgia can be worked to 
profit when they yield from four to five cents 
worth of gold to the bushel of stuff, or about 
100 lbs. weight; but the mill for crushing 
and washing it must then be close at hand. 
The proportion of the gold, in this case, is 
less than 2 parts in 1,000,000. The hard 
quartz ores must contain nearly or quite 20 
cents worth of gold in the bushel, especially 
if they are pyritiferous. 

Although the gold is obtained in a metal- 
lic state, it difters very much in value in dif- 
ferent localities. Deposit gold from the 
vicinity of Dahlonega, in Georgia, is worth 
93 cents the pennyweight ; that of Hart 
county, in the same state, 98 cents ; of Car- 
roll county, Georgia, and Chesterfield dis- 
trict. South Carolina, $1.02 ; of Union coun- 
ty, Georgia, or the Tennessee line, 72 cents ; 
Charlotte, North Carolina $1.00; and that 
of Burke county, North Carolina, only 50 
cents. The average fineness of California 
gold is found to be from 875 to 885 parts in 
1,000, which is very near that of our gold 
coin, viz, 900 in 1,000. The native gold 
from Australia has from 960 to 966 parts La 
1,000 pure gold, and some from the Chau- 
diere, in Canada, 877.3 pure gold, and 122.3 
silver ; another specimen 892.4, silver 107.6. 
The specific gravity of the metal has been 
increased by casting from 14.6 in the native 
state to 17.48. 



78 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES, 



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80 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



The most important use of gold is as a 
medium of exchange. For this purpose it 
is converted into coin at the mints, and into 
bars or bullion at the government assay of- 
fice. In this form a large porticjn of the re- 
ceipts from California is immediately ex- 
ported from New York to make up the bal- 
ance of foreign trade. Each bar is stamped 
with marks, representing its fineness and 
weight, and may continue to be thus used, 
or when received at foreign mints, is convert- 
ed into coin. A large amount of gold is 
consumed in jewelry, trinkets, watches, and 
plate, and still more in the form of gold- 
leaf. This last being worn out in the using, 
or being distributed in too small quantities 
together to pay for recovering it, is altogether 
lost to the community, after the articles have 
served the purpose intended. This loss in 
the time of James I. was considered so 
serious, that a special act was passed, re- 
stricting the use of gold and silver-leaf, ex- 
cept for specified objects, which, singular!}' 
enough, were chiefly for military accoutre- 
ments. Gold employed in the recently in- 
vented process of electrotyping, in which 
large quantities are consumed, is similarly 
lost in the using. 

Besides the use of gold-leaf in gilding, it is 
employed quite largely by dentists as the 
best material for filHng teeth. They also 
tise much gold plate and wire for securing 
the artificial sets in the mouth. In book- 
binding, gold is consumed to considerable 
extent for lettering and ornamenting the 
backs of the books. The manufacture of 
gold-leaf is carried on in various places, both 
in the cities and country. It is a simple 
process, known in ancient times, but only of 
late years carried to a high degree of per- 
fection. The ingots, moulded for the pur- 
pose, and annealed in hot ashes, are rolled 
between rollers of polished steel, until the 
sheet is reduced from its original thickness 
of half an inch to a little more than ^i^ of 
an inch, an ounce weight making a strip ten 
feet long and H inches wide. This is an- 
nealed and cut into pieces an inch square, 
each weighing about six grains. A pile is 
then made of 1 50 of these pieces, alteniiiting 
with leaves of fine calf-skin vellum, each one 
of which is four inches square, and a number 
of extra leaves of the vellum are .added at 
the top and bottom of the pile. The heap, 
called a tool or kutch, is slipped into a 
parchment case open at the two ends, and 
this into a similar one, so that each side of 



the pack is protected by one of the case. It 
is placed upon a block of marble, and then 
beaten with a hammer weighing sixteen 
pounds, and furnished with a convex face, 
the effect of which is to cause the gold to 
spread more rapidly. The workman wields 
this with great dexterity, shifting it from one 
hand to the other, without interfering with 
the regularity of the blow. The pack is oc- 
casionally turned over, and is bent and rolled 
in the hands to cause the gold to extend 
freely between the leaves, as it is expanded. 
The gold-leaves are also interchanged to ex- 
pose them all equally to the beating. When 
they have attained the full size of the vellum, 
which is done in aliout twenty minutes, they 
are taken apart, and cut each one into four 
pieces, making 600 of the original 150. 
These are packed in gold-beater's skin, and 
the pack is beaten as before, but with a 
lighter hammer, until they are extended 
again to sixteen square inches. This oc- 
cupies about two hours. The gold-leaves 
are then taken out, and spread singly upon 
a leather cushion, where they are cut into 
four squares by two sharp edges of cane, ar- 
ranged in the form of a cross. To any 
other kind of a knife the gold would adhere. 
These leaves are again packed, 800 together, 
in the finest kind of gold-beater's skin, and 
expanded till each leaf is from 3 to 3i 
inches square. The aggregate surface is 
about 192 times larger than that of the orig- 
inal sheet, and the thickness is reduced to 
.about the 75 ^V o o^ '^^ ^^ inch. The beating 
is sometimes carried further than this, es- 
pecially by the French, so that an ounce of 
gold is extended over 160 square feet, and 
its thickness is reduced to 5 34V n "^ <"i inch, 
or even to ^jjViTo- When the pack is open- 
ed, the leaves are carefully lifted by a pair 
of wooden pliers, spread upon a leather 
cushion by the aid of the breath, and cut 
into four squ.ares of about 3i inches each, 
which are immediately transferred one by 
one between the leaves of a little book of 
smooth paper, which are prevented from ad- 
hering to the gold-leaves by an application 
of red ochro or red ch.alk. Twenty-five 
leaves are put into each book, and when fill- 
ed, it is pressed hard, and all projecting edges 
of the gold are wiped away with a bit of 
linen. The books are then put up in pack- 
iiges of a dozen together for sale. 

An imitation gold-leaf, called Dutch gold- 
leaf, is used to some extent. It is prepared 
from sheets of brass, which are gilded, and 



LEAD. 



81 



beaten down in the manner already described. 
When new it appears like genuine gold- 
leaf, but soon becomes tarnished in use. 
Party gold-leaf is formed of leaves of gold 
and of silver, laid together and made to unite 
by beating and hammering. It is then beaten 
down like gold-leaf. 

The gold-beater's skin used in this manu- 
facture is a peculiar preparation made from 
the .caecum of the ox. The membrane is 
doubled together, the two mucous surfaces 
face to face, in which state they unite firmly. 
It is then treated with preparations of alum, 
isinglass, whites of eggs, etc., sometimes 
with creosote, and after being beaten be- 
tween folds of paper to expel the grease, is 
pressed and dried. In this way leaves are 
obtained 5i inches square, of which moulds 
are made up, containing each 850 leaves. 
After being used for a considerable time, the 
leaves become dry and stiff, so that the gold 
cannot spread freely between them. To 
remed}' this, they are moistened with wine 
or with vinegar and water, laid between 
parchment, and thoroughly beaten. They 
are then dusted over with calcined selenitc 
or gypsum, reduced to a line powder. The 
vellum, which is used before the gold-beater's 
skin, is selected from the finest varieties, 
and this, too, after being well washed and 
dried under a press, is brushed over with 
pulverized gypsum. 

In the great exhibition at London in 1851, 
machines were exhibited from the United 
States, and also from Paris, which were de- 
signed for gold-be.ating, and it was supposed 
they would take the place of the hand proc- 
ess. They have been put into operation at 
Hartford, in Connecticut, but after being 
tried, they have been laid aside for the old 
method. 



CHAPTER IV. 



LEAD. 



Lead is met with in a great number of 
combinations, and has also been found in 
small quantity, at a few localities in Europe, 
in a native state. The common ore, from 
which nearly all the lead of commerce is ob- 
tained, is the sulphuret, called galena, a com- 
bination of 86.55 per cent, of lead and 13.45 
of sulphur. It is a steel gray mineral of bril- 
liant metallic lustre when freshly broken, and 
is often obtained in large cubical crystals : the 



fragments of these are all in cubical forms. 
The ore is also sometimes in masses of gran- 
ular structure. Very frequently galena con- 
tains silver in the form of sulphuret of that 
metal, and gold, too, has often been detected 
in it. The quantity of silver is estimated by 
the number of ounces to the ton, and this 
may amount to lOU or 200, or even more; 
but when lead contains three ounces of silver 
to the ton this may be profitably separated. 
Ores of this ch.araoter are known as argentif- 
erous galena ; if the silver is more valuable 
than the lead they are more properly called 
silver ores. In Mexico and Germany such 
are worked, but not in the United States. 
Galena is easily melted, and in contact with 
charcoal the sulphur is expelled and the lead 
obtained. The ore is found in veins in rocks 
of difierent geological formations, as in the 
metamorphic rocks of New England, the 
lower Silurian rocks of Iowa, Wisconsin, 
and Missouri, in limestones and sandstones 
of later age in New York and the middle 
states, belonging to higher groups of the Ap- 
palachian system of rocks, and in the new red 
sandstone of Pennsylvania at its contact with 
the gneiss. 

Carbonate of lead is another ore often as- 
soci.ated with galena, though usually in small 
quantit}'. It is of light color, whitish or 
grayish, commonly crystallized, .and in an im- 
pure form is sometimes obtained in an earthy 
powder. At St. Lawrence county, New 
York, barge quantities of it have been col- 
lected for smelting, and were called lead 
ashes. The ore may escape notice from its 
unmetallic appearance, and at the Missouri 
mines large quantities were formerly thrown 
aside as worthless. It cont.ains 77.5 per 
cent, of Ic.id combined with 6 per cent, of 
oxygen, and this compound with 10.5 per 
cent, of carbonic acid. Beautiful crystals of 
the ore, some transparent, have been ob- 
tained at the mines on the Schuylkill, near 
Phoenixville, Pennsylvania ; the Washington 
mine, Davidson county, North Carolina ; and 
Mine La Motte, Missouri. 

Another ore, the phosphate or pyromor- 
phite, has been known only as a rare min- 
eral until it was produced at the Phcenixville 
mines so abundantly as to constitute much 
the larger portion of the ores smelted. It is 
obtained in masses of small crystals of a green 
color, and sometimes of other shades, as 
yellow, orange, brown, etc., derived from the 
minute portions of chrome in combination. 
With these a variety of other compounds of 



8S 



MIKiyO IXDCSTRT OF THK rSITKD STATES. 



lead are mixed, togrether with phosphate of 
lime and fluoride of caleium. so that the pcr- 
centaije of the metal is variable. The com- 
pounds of lead met with at these mines are 
the sulphurot, sulphate, carbonate, phosphate, 
arseniate, niolybdate, chromate, chromo-mol- 
ybdate, arsenio-phosphate, and antimonial 
ai^entiferous. Besides all these, a single 
vein contained native silver, native copper, 
and native sulphur, three compounds of zinc, 
four of copper, f.iur of iron, black oxide of 
mansrane^c, sulphate of barvtes, and quartz. 

The eastern portion of the United States 
is supplied with lead almost exclusively from 
Spain and Great Britain, but the western 
states are furnished with this metal from 
mine-s in Iowa, Wisconsin, and Missouri. 
The lead veins of the eastern and southern 
states are of little importance. In Maine the 
ores are found in Cobscook B.iv, near Lubec 
and Eastport, in limestone rocks near dikes 
of trap. A mine was opened in 1 S3i}, and 
a drift was carried in about 1 55 feet at the 
base of a rockv cliff on the course of the 
vein ; it was then abandoned, but operations 
have recentlv been recommenced. In New 
Hampshire arijentiferous galena is found in 
numerous places, but always in too small 
quantitv to pav the expenses of extraction. 
At Shelbnme a l:\rje quartz vein was worked 
from 1S46 to 1S49, and three shafts were 
sunk, one of them 275 feet in depth. The 
ore was found in bunches and narrow streaks, 
but in small quantity. Some of it was 
smelted on the spot, and five tons were 
shipped to Encland. which sold for £16 per 
ton. The richest yielded S-4 ounces of silver 
to the ton. Another vein of argentiferous ga- 
lena has been partiallv explored at Eaton, and 
this is most likely of any to prove valuable. 

Massachusetts, also, contains a number of 
lead veins, none of which have proved prof- 
itable., thouirh some of them have been 
■worked to considerable extent The most 
noted are those of Southampton and East- 
hampton. Operations were commenced at 
the former place in 1765 upon a great lode 
of quartz containing galena, blende, copper 
pvrites, and sulphate of barytes. It is in a 
coarse granitic rock near its contact with the 
red sandstone of the Connecticut valley. 
About the vear ISIO an adit level was 
boldly laid out to be driven in from 1,100 to 
1.200 feet, t-o intersect the vein at 140 feet 
below the surface, A single miner is said to 
have worked at it tiU his death, in ISiS, 
Then it had reached the length of 900 feet. 



At different times this adit has been pushed 
on, and when last abandoned, in 1 854, it was 
supposed to be within a few feet of the vein. 
The rock was so excessively hard that the 
cost of driving the adit was about 8-5 per 
foot. Lead veins are found in Whately, Hat- 
field, and other towns in Hampshire county. 
In Connecticut, also, several veins have 
been worked to some extent. That at Mid- 
dletown, referred to in the introductory re- 
marks as one of the earliest opened mines in 
the United States, is the most noticeable. 
It is unknown when this mine was first 
worked. In 1S52 operations were renewed 
upon it, and a shaft sunk 120 feet below the 
old workings. The vein is among strata of 
a silicious slate, in some places quite rich, 
but on the whole it has proved too poor to 
work. The ore contained silver to the value 
of from $25 to $75 to the ton of lead. 

Lead mines have been opened in Xew 
York, in Dutchess, Columbia, "Washington, 
Eensselaer, L Ister. and St, LawTence coun- 
ties. In the first four of these the ore is 
found in veins near the junction of the meta- 
morphic slates and limestones. The Ancram 
or Livingston mine, in Columbia countv, has 
been worked at different times at consider- 
able expense, but with no returns. A mine in 
i Xortheast, Dutchess countv, was first opened 
} by some German miners in 1740, and ore 
from it was exported. The Committee of 
Public Safety. durin<j the revolutionary war, 
sought to obtain supplies of lead from it. 
The lead veins of this part of New York have 
attracted more interest, on account of their 
hiffhlv arsrentiferous character, than the quan- 
tity of ore they promise would justify ; but 
it seems to be almost universallv the case 
throughout the L'nited States that the galena 
vieldint; much silver fails in quantitv. The 
Ulster county mines are found on the west 
side of the Shawangunk mountain in the 
strata of hard grit rock which cover its west- 
em slope. At different places along this 
ridge veins have been fotmd cutting across 
the strata in nearly vertical lines, and havs 
produced some lead. zinc, and copper. The 
Montgomery mine, near Wurtsboro, in Sul- 
livan county, was chiefly productive ia zinc. 
Xear Ellenville, Ulster county, several veins 
have been followed into the mountain, and 
] one of these, which was worked in 1S53, 
afforded for a short time considerable quan- 
[ titles of rich lead and copper ore^. From 
, the former there were smelted about 459.000 
' pounds of lead, and the sales of the latter 



lEAD. 



83 



amounted to from 60 to 70 tons, of which 50 
tons yielded 24.3 per cent, of copper. Where 
the vein was productive it contained the rich 
ores unmixed with stony gangues, and some- 
times presenting a thickness of five feet of 
pure ore ; where it became poor it closed in 
sometimes to a mere crack in the grit rock, 
and then the expense of extending the work- 
ings became very great from the extreme 
hardness of this rock. Open fissures were 
met with, one of which was more than 100 
feet long and deep, and in places 12 feet or 
more wide. It was partially filled with 
tough yellow clay, through which were dis- 
persed fragments of sandstone, magnificent 
bunches of quartz crystals, and lumps of lead 
and copper ores. The walls on the sides 
also presented a lining in places of the same 
ores. A drift was run into the base of the 
mountain about 200 feet, and a shaft was 
sunk at the foot of the slope about 100 feet. 
The expense of working in the hard rock 
proved to be too great for the amount of ore 
obtained, and the mine was abandoned in 
1854, although its production, for thcextent 
of ground opened, has been exceeded by but 
few other mines in the eastern states. The 
most promising veins in the state are those 
of St. Lawrence county in the vicinity of 
Rossie. They occur in gneiss rock, which 
they cut in nearly vertical lines. One of 
these was opened along the summit of Coal 
Hill, and was worked in 1837 and 1838 by 
an open cut of 440 feet in length, to the 
depth, in some places, of ISO feet. In 1839 
the mine was abandoned, after the company 
had realized about §241,000 by the sale of 
some ] ,800 tons of lead they had extracted. 
The galena was remarkably free from blende, 
and from pyritous iron and copper, which 
(especially the first-named) are so often asso- 
ciated with the ore, rendering it diflncult to 
smelt. Calcareous spar, often finely crystal- 
lized, formed the gangue of the vein. A 
nearly transparent crystal, weighing 1 65 lbs., 
is preserved in the cabinet of Yale College. 
Other attempts have been made to work the 
mine ; and the cause of its being allowed to 
lie idle appears to be the ditficulty of nego- 
tiating a mining right with the proprietors. 
In Pennsylvania the most productive lead 
mines are those of Montgomery and Chester 
counties, found in a small district of 5 or 6 
miles in length by 2 or 3 in width, at the 
line of contact of the gneiss, and red shale 
and sandstone. About 12 parallel veins 
have been discovered, extending north 32° 



to 35° east, and dipping steeply south-ea-st. 
In the gneiss they are productive in lead ores, 
and in the red shale in copper. The gneiss 
is decomposed, and the vein itself is in 
considerable part ochreous and earthy, ow- 
ing to decomposition of pj-ritous ores. In 
this material, called by the miners gossan, 
silver has been discovered amounting to 10 
ounces to the ton. The two principal mines 
of this group are the Wheatley and the Ches- 
ter County. The former was opened in 1851, 
and up to September, 1854, had produced 
1,800 tons of ore, principally phosphate, esti- 
mated to yield 60 per cent, of metal. In 
this vein the great number of varieties of 
lead and other ores enumerated above were 
met with. The Chester County Mining Com- 
pany commenced operations in 1850, and 
up to November, 1851, had raised and smelted 
190,400 lbs. of ore, almost exclusively phos- 
phate, which produced about 47 per cent, of 
lead. The silver in this ore amounted to 
about 1.6 ounce in 2,000 lbs. ; in the galena 
associated with it the silver was found in 
quantities var}-ing from 11.9 to 16.2 ounces; 
the coarser grained galena giving the most, 
and the fine grained the least. In connec- 
tion with the furnaces for smelting the ores, 
was one for separating the silver by cupella- 
tion, and a considerable amount of silver was 
obtained before the mining operations were 
abandoned, in 1854. 

Lead ores are found along the Blue Ridge, 
in Virginia, and at one point, near the cen- 
tral portion of its range across the state, a 
mine has been worked for a number of years. 
They are also met with in several of the gold 
mines, but not in workable quantities. In 
south-west Virginia and east Tennessee the 
ores are found in the silurian limestones, and 
a considerable number of mines have been 
worked to moderate extent in both states. 
The most important one is the Wythe lead 
mine, 16 miles from Wytheville, which was 
worked in 1754. It is in a steep hill on the 
border of New River, a fall upon which, near 
the mine, affords power for raising the water 
required in dressing the ores, and also for 
producing the blast for the furnace. Several 
shafts have been sunk, one of which extend- 
ing down to the adit — a depth of 225 feet — 
is used as a shot tower. The ores are ga- 
lena, w ith more or less carbonates intermixed. 
The product for 1855 is stated to have been 
500 tons of lead. The transportation of 
lead, in pigs, bars, and shot, from the south- 
west part of Virginia toward the east, by the 



84 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



Virginia and Tennessee railroad, for tlie years 
named, has been as follows : — 

1656. 1S57. I85S. 1859. 

lbs. lbs. lbs. lbs. 

Pi^Lead 409,649 514,879 168,405 854,695 

Bar Ltad 234.037 5'2,230 ■;2,580 

Bllot 364,660 120,142 104,623 21)4,910 

Total 774,.309 869,057 320,258 1,182,24,5 

In the other direction the transportation 
of the same articles was comparatively unim- 
portant. 

South of Virijinia the only lead mine 
of importance is the Washington mine, Da- 
vidson countv, N. C This was opened in 
1836, in the silicious and talcose slates of 
the gold region, and was worked for the 
carbonate of lead, which was found in a dull, 
heavy ore of earthy appearance, with which 
were intermixed glassy crystals of the same 
mineral. Some galena and phosphate of 
lead were also met with. After a time native 
silver was detected, and the lead that had 
T)een obtained was found to be rich in silver. 
Till 184-i the mine continued to produce ores 
containing much silver, and afforded the first 
deposits of this metal in the mint from do- 
mestic mines. The character of the ores 
changed, however, below the depth of 125 
feet, the silver almost disappearing. The 
actual product of the mine is not known. 
That of 1844 is said to have been 124,209 
in value of silver, and $7,253 of gold, ob- 
tained from 160,000 lbs. of lead — an average 
of 240 oz. of auriferous silver to 2,000 lbs. 
of metal. In 1851 the production was 56,896 
lbs. of lead and 7,942.16 oz. of auriferous 
silver — equal to 279 oz. to the ton of metal. 
Zinc blende and galena bec.ime at last the 
prevailing ores, the silver varying from 2.5 
to 195 oz. to the ton; and the workings were 
extended upon two parallel veins which lav 
near each other in the slates. lu 1 852 min- 
ing operations were abando'ned as unprofita- 
ble, but were soon after renewed, and are 
still continued. 

The great lead mines of the United 
States are the upper mines, in a district 
near the Mississippi, in Iowa, the south-west 
part of Wisconsin, and the north-west part 
of Illinois ; and the lower mines, in Missouri. 
The existence of lead ores in the upper dis- 
trict was made known by Le Sueur, who dis- 
covered them in his voyage up the Missis- 
sippi in 1700 and I7ul. they attracted no 
further attention, however, till a French miner, 
Julien Dubuque, commenced to work them in 
1788 ; and in this employment he continued, 



on the spot wh^^re now stands the city in 
Iowa bearing his name, until his death in 
1809. When the United States acquired 
possession of the country in 1S07, the min- 
eral lands were reserved from the sales, and 
leases of mining rights were authorized. 
These were not, however, issued until 1822, 
and little mining was done before 1826. 
From that time the production of lead rap- 
idly increased ; and the government for a 
time received the regular rates for the leases. 
But after 1 834 the miners and smelters refused 
to pav tliem any longer, on account of so many 
sales ha.ing been made and patents granted 
of mineral lands in Wisconsin. In lts39 the 
United States government authorized a geo- J 
logical survey of the lead region, in order to 1 
designate precisely the mineral tracts, and 
this was accomplished the same year by Dr. 
D. D. Owen, with the aid of 139 :issi.stants. 
In 1844 it was decided to abandon the leas- 
ing system, and throw all the lands into the 
market. The lead region, according to the 
report of Dr. Owen, extends over about 62 
townships in Wisconsin, 10 in the north-west 
corner of Illinois, and 8 in Iowa — a territory 
altogether of about 2,880 square miles. Its 
western limit is about 12 miles from the 
Mississippi river ; to the north it extends 
nearly to Wisconsin river; south to Apple 
river, in Illinois ; and east to the east branch 
of the Pekatonica. From east to west it is 
87 miles across, and from north to south 54 
miles. Much of the region is a rolling 
prairie, with a few isolated hills, called 
mounds, scattered upon its surface, the high- 
est of them rising scarcely more than 200 
feet above the general level. The prevailing 
limestone formations give fertility to the soil, 
and the country is well watered by numer- 
ous small streams, which flow in valleys ex- 
cavated from 100 to 150 feet below the 
higher levels. The limestone, of gray and 
vellowish gray colors, lies in nearly horizon- 
tal strata, and the portion which contains 
the lead veins hardly exceeds 50 feet in 
thickness. Beneath it is a sandstone of the 
age of the Potsdam sandstone, and above it 
are strata of limestone recognized as belong- 
ing to the Trenton limestone, so that it 
proves to be a formation interposed between 
these, quite western in character, as it is not 
met with east of Wisconsin. The veins oc- 
cupy straight vertical fissures, and several 
near togetiier sometimes extend nearly a 
mile in an east and west direction. They 
never reach downward into the sandstone, 



85 



but are lost in the lower strata of the lime- 
stone, and where the upper strata of the for- 
mation appear, these cover over the veins, 
*nd are consequently known as the cap-rock. 
In the fissures or crevices the jralena is found, 
8ome<iines in loose sheets and lumps embed- 
ded in clay and earthy oxide of iron, and 
sometimes attached to one or both walls. 
It is rarely so much as a foot thick. No 
other ores are found with it, except some 
zinc blende and calamine, and occasionally 
pyritous iron and copper. The lead con- 
tains but a trace of silver. The fissures, as 
they are followed beneath the surface, some- 
times expand in width till they form what 
is called an " opening ;" and the hollow 
space may go on enlarging till it becomes a 
cave of several hundred feet in length and 
30 or 40 in width. Their dimensions are, 
however, usually within 40 or 50 feet in 
length, 4 to 8 in width, and as many in 
height. The walls of the openings often aftbrd 
a thick incrustation of galena, besides more 
or less loose mineral in the clay, among the 
fragments of rock, with all of which the 
caves are partially filled. Flat sheets of ore 
often exten<l from the vertical fissures be- 
tween the horizontal limestone strata; these 
are more^apt to contain blende, and pyrites, 
and calcareous spar than the ore of the verti- 
cal crevices. Besides these modes of occur- 
rence, galena is found in loose lumps in the 
clayey loam of the prairies. This is called 
float mineral, and is regarded as an evidence 
of productive fissures in the vicinity. 

The galena occurs under a variety of sin- 
gular forms in the crevices. It lines curious 
cavities which extend up in the cap-rock, ter- 
minating above in a point, and which are 
known as chimneys. Upon the roofs of the 
openings it is found in large bunches of cu- 
bical crystals, and the same are obtained lying 
in the clays of the same openings. A flat 
sheet of the ore was worked in Iowa that 
was more than 20 feet across and from 2 to 
3 feet thick, each side of which turned down 
in a vertical sheet, gradually diminishing in 
thickness. It yielded 1,200,000 lbs. of rich 
galena, and more still remained behind in 
sight. The crevices near Dubuque are the 
most regular and productive of any in the 
district. One called the Langworthy, on a 
length of about three-fourths of a mile, has 
produced 10,000,000 lbs. of ore. On the 
main fissure there were usually three ranges 
of crevices one above another, widening out 
to 15 or 20 feet. 



The smelters of this region form a distinct 
class from the miners, of whom the former 
buy the ores as these are raised, and convert 
them into metal in the little smelting estab- 
lishments scattered through the country. 
The lead has been principally sent down the 
Mississippi river to Saint Louis and New 
Orleans ; but a portion has always been con- 
sumed in the country, and some has been 
wagoned across to Milwaukee before the con- 
struction of railroads, which since 1853 have 
aftbrded increased facilities for distributing 
in difl'erent directions the product of the 
mines. The only records of the amount of 
lead obtained are those of the shipments 
down the river. The following table present.^ 
the number of pigs shipped from the earlier 
workings to 1857; the figures for 184 1 to 
1 850, inclusive, being furnished to Dr. Owen's 
Report of 1852 by Mr. James Carter, of Ga- 
lena. The pigs weigh about 70 lbs. each. 



SHIPMENTS OF LEAD FROM 
Years. Pigs. 

1821 to 1823... 4,790 

1824 2,503 

1825 9,490 

1826 i:!,700 

1827 74,130 

1828 158,655 

1829 190,620 

1S30 119,000 

1831 91,170 

1832 61,164 

1833 113,440 

1834 113,648 

1835 158,330 

1836 191,750 

1837 219,360 

1838 200,465 

1839 357,785 

1840 317,845 

1841 452,814 



THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI. 

Years. Pie3. 

1842 447";859 

1843 561.321 

1844 624,601 

1845 778 460 

1846 730,714 

1847 771,679 

1848 680,245 

1849 628,934 

1850 569,521 

1851 474,115 

1852 408,628 

1853 425,814 

1854 423,617 

1855 430,305 

1856 435,654 

1857 485,475 

1858 

1859 



The lead region of Missouri was first 
brought into public notice by the explora- 
tions of the F^ench adventurer, Renault, 
who was sent out from Paris in 1720, with 
a party of miners, to search for precious 
metals in the territory of Louisiana, under 
a patent granted by the French government 
to the famous company of John Law. 
Their investigations were carried on in the 
region lying near the Mississippi and south 
of the Missouri river; and here, though 
they failed to find the precious metals they 
were in search of, they discovered and 
opened many mines of lead ore. A large 
mining tract in the northern part of Madi- 
son county is still called by the name of 
their mineralogist, La Motte. Their opera- 



86 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



tioiis, ho\ve»'er, were altogether superficial, 
and the lead they obtained was wholly by 
the rude and wasteful process of smelting 
the ores upon open log-heaps — a practice 
which even of late years is followed to some 
extent. Up to Renault's return to France, 
in 1742, little progress had been made in 
the development of this mining district. The 
next step was made by one Moses Austin, 
of Virginia, who obtained from the Spanish 
government a grant of lard near Potosi, and 
commenced in 1798 regular mining opera- 
tions by sinking a shaft. lie also started 
a reverberatory furnace and built a shot 
tower. Schoolcraft states in his "View of 
the Lead Mines of Missouri," that there 
were in 1819 forty-five mines in operation, 
giving employment to l.luO persons. Mine 
a Burton and the Potosi diggings had pro- 
duced from 1798 to 1816 an annual average 
amount exceeding 500,0UU pounds ; and in 
1811 the production of Mine Sliibboleth 
was 3,125,000 pounds of lead from 5,000,- 
000 pounds of ore. At a later period, from 
1834 to 1837, the several mines of the La 
Motte tract produced, it is estimated, 1,035,- 
820 pounds of lead per annum. From 1840 
to 1854 the total yield of all the mines is 
stated by Dr. Litton in the state geological 
report to amount to over 3,833,121 pounds 
annually. At the close of this period it had, 
however, greatly fallen oft", there being at 
that time scarcely 200 persons engaged in 
milling, besides those employed at the three 
mines known as Perry's, Valle's, and Skew- 
ers'. The principal mines have been in 
Wasliington, St. Francis, and other neigh- 
boring counties. The ores are found in 
strata of magnesian limestone of an older 
date than the galena limestone of Wiscon- 
sin, and supposed to lie, with the sandstones 
with which they alternate, on the same 
geological horizon as the calciferous sand 
rock, which is found in the eastern states 
overlying the Potsdam sandstone. Some 
of the mines are at the contact of the hori- 
zontal limestone with granite rocks, but the 
ores in this position are only in superficial 
deposits or in layers included in the lime- 
stone. In their general features the veins 
do not diff'er greatly from those of the north- 
ern mines. Some of them, however, con- 
tain a larger proportion of other ores be- 
sides galena, as well as a greater variety of 
them. Carbonate of lead, called by the 
Miners dry bone and white mineral, is 
more abundant, and also blende, called by 



them black jack, and the silicate of zinc. 
Iron and copper pyrites are often seen, and 
at Mine la Motte are found the black oxides 
of cobalt and manganese associated with 
the carbonates of lead and copper. Nearly 
all the mining operations have been mere 
superficial excavations in the clay, which 
were soon exhausted of the loose ore and 
abandoned. But to this there are some re- 
markable exceptions of deeper and more 
permanent mines than are known in the 
northern lead regions. Such are Valle's 
and Perry's mines, both situated on the 
same group of veins, which form a network 
of fissures and openings running in every 
direction and spreading over an area of 
about 1,500 feet in length by 500 in 
breadth, the extension of which is from north- 
west to south-east. These mines have been 
steadily worked since 1 824, and 22 shafts 
have been sunk upon the fissures, six of 
which are over 110 feet deep, one is 1 70 
feet deep, and only two are less than 50 
feet. For the first 10 to 30 feet they pass 
through gravel and clay, below this through a 
silicious magnesian limestone of light color, 
and then enter a very close-grained variety 
of the same, called by the miners the cast 
steel rock. A succession of openings are 
encountered, which are distributed with 
considerable regularity upon three different 
levels. Those of the middle series have 
been the most productive. Sometimes 
chimneys connect them with the caves of 
the tier above or below. The portion of 
these mines on the Valle tract produced, 
according to the state report, from 1824 to 
1834 about 10,000,000 pounds of lead, and 
in the succeeding 20 years about as much 
more; and Perry's mine from 1839 to 1854 
has produced about 1 8,000,000 pounds. 

No accurate estimates have been pre- 
served of the total production of the Mis- 
souri mines. This has always fallen far 
short of the yield of the northern mines. 
From 1832 to 1843 it is reported as running 
from 2,500 to 3,700 tons per annum, while 
that of the northern mines in the same time 
was from 5,500 to 14,000 tons, and ia 
1845 it even exceeded 24,000 tons. In 1852 
Mr. J. D. Whitney estimated that the pro- 
duction in Missouri had fallen to 1,500 tons, 
or less ; and from that period it has prob- 
ably not advanced. As this decrease in 
the supply has been going on while the 
price of lead has risen to nearly three times 
what it was in 1842, the cause is probably 



87 



owing to the mines themselves being in 
great part exhausted. The only sufficient 
sources known from wliich the increasing 
supplies required from 3ear to year can be 
furnished, are the mines of Great Britain 
and Spain, though should the argentiferous 
lead mines of Mexico ever be worked for 
the lead as well as the silver they contain, 
they might furnish large quantities of the 

Pig lend from 

AiiKTicnn mines 

receiveii at St. 

Yeara. Luuis nnd New 

Oili'.ins. 

lbs. 

1832 8,540,000 

18.-)3 12,600,000 

1834 1-1, 140.000 

1835 16,000.000 

1836 18,000,000 

•1837 20,000,000 

1838 20,860,000 

1839 24.000,000 

1840 27,000,000 

1841 30,000,000 

1842 33,110,000 

1843 39,970,000 

1844 44,730,000 

1845 51,240,000 

1846 54,950,000 

1847 46.130,000 

1848 42,420,000 

1849 35,560,000 

1850 40,313,910 

1851 34.934,480 

1852 28,593,180 

1853 31,497,950 

1854 21,472,990 

1855 21,441,140 

1856 15,347,880 

1857 14,028,140 

1858 21,210,420 

1859 2,t,442,870 

1860 22,68.-J,125 

1861 21,5.)4,743 

1862 20,370,188 

1863 22,798,142 

1S64 18,141,878 

1865 18,266,.313 

1866 23,393,4.50 

1867 26,301,357 

1868 30,014,759 

1869 33,717,8.10 

1870 37,1)6,742 

For the year ending June 30, 1859, the 
imports of lead are given at 64,000,000 
pounds, worth nearly 1^2,700,000. Of this 
about $57,000 worth were re-exported to 
foreign countries, besides American lead to 
the value of $30,000, and a small amount of 
manufactured lead. 

Lead Smelting. The lead mines of the 
United States being scattered over wide ter- 
ritories, and their products being nowhere 
brought together in large quantities, the proc- 
ess of reducing the ores has been conducted 
in small establishments and by the most sim- 



former metal. As the production of the 
United States fell off that of Great Britain 
increased from 04,000 tons in 1850 to 73,1 2'.> 
tons in 1856, and 96,206 tons in 1857, thus 
considerably exceeding one-half of the whole 
production of the globe in this metal, which 
in 1854 was rated at about 133,000 tons. 
At that time the production of Spain was 
rated at 30,000 tons, and of the United 
States at 15,000 tons. 







Average 




Invoice 


Pig, bar, and 


Invoice value 


rate of 


White and 


value of 


sSeet lead 


of yearly 


duty per 


red lead 


yearly irn 


imported. 


iuiponatioDS. 


100 lbs. 


imported 


portations 


lbs. 






lbs. 




5,333,588 


$124,311 


$3.00 


657,781 


$30,791 


2,282,068 


60,660 


3.00 


625,069 


36,049 


4,997,293 


168,811 


2.77 


1,024,663 


57,572 


1,006,472 


35,663 


2.77 


832,215 


50.225 


919,087 


35,283 


2.55 


908,105 


62,237 


335.772 


13,871 


2.57 


599,980 


47,316 


165.844 


6,573 


2.34 


522,681 


38,683 


528,922 


18,631 


2.31 


720,408 


50,;M)5 


519,343 


18,111 


2.08 


643,418 


41,043 


62,246 


2,605 


2.07 


532,122 


31,617 


4,689 


155 


3.00 


479,738 


28,747 


290 


3 


3.00 
3.00 


93,166 


5,600 


iV.eoD 


'458 


3.00 


231,171 


14,"7'44 


214 


6 


3.00 


215,434 


15,685 


224,905 


6,288 


0.56 


298,387 


15,228 


2,684,700 


85,387 


0.64 


318,781 


19,703 


36,997,751 


1,182,597 


0.'64 


853,463 


43,756 


43,470,210 


1,517,603 


0.70 


1,105,852 


52,631 


37,544,588 


1,283,331 


0.70 


842,521 


43,365 


43,174,447 


1,618,058 


0.70 


1,224,068 


69,058 


47,714,140 


2,095,039 


0.90 


1,865,893 


102,812 


56,745,247 


2,556,523 


0.90 


2,319,099 


134,855 


55,294,256 


2,528,014 


0.91 


3,548,409 


174,125 


47,947.698 


2.305,768 


0.72 


1,793,377 


113,075 


41,230,019 


1,972,243 


0.72 


1,785,851 


109,426 


64.000,000 


2,617,770 


0.72 


61,936 


3,871 


45,896,700 


1,835,868 


0.72 


177,744 


11,109 


45,654,100 


1,826,164 


0.72 


200,848 


12,5.53 


34,611,575 


1,384,463 


0.78 


307,824 


19,239 


39,437,566 


2,816,969 


1.11 


1,004,624 


71,766 


20.897,109 


2,247,001 


1.32 


1,390,052 


149,468 


7,969,0S0 


1,193,362 


1.75 


1,662,516 


249,385 


40.223,888 


2,513,993 


2.25 


2,035,395 


135,693 


41,06),175 


2,737,745 


0.95 


■ 1,464,972 


122,081 


41,437,520 


2,762,520 


1.00 


1,399,512 


116,626 


56,062,128 


3,503,883 


0.97 


336,732 


28,061 


58,310,464 


3,644,404 


0.96 


367,008 


30,584 



pie methods. The earlier operations were 
limited to smelting the ores in log furnaces. 
Upon a layer of logs placed in an inclosure 
of logs or stones piled up, split wood was 
set on end and covered with the ore, and 
over this small wood again. The pile was 
fired through an opening in front. The 
combustion of the small wood removed from 
the ore a portion of the sulphur, and the re. 
duction was completed by the greater heat 
arising from the burning of the logs. The 
lead run down to the bottom and out in 
front into a basin, whence it was ladled into 



S9 



MINING tNnrSTUY OF THS rNITKD STATES. 



till' inouMs. Tlio loss of luotal was of 
rourso voi'v l;ir^o ; but ;i portion \v;»s i\>oov- 
oroJ l>v tro.itiiisi the ivsiiluo ii\ what >v;is 
o.illoil .-in :isl\ t'livnaoo. Tlio jiroooss is still 
rosovtod to in pl:ioos whoro no l"urn;\oos ai\' 
within ivai"h. Rut whorovor niiuos jtfo opon- 
od that proiniso suttioiout supplios of oiv. 
furnaoos arc soon oonstruotod ii\ thoir vicini- 
ty. Thoso in uso arc of two sorts: tho 
Soofoh hoarth an>l thon^'orhoratorv. Rosidos 
thoso. anothor small fun\aoo is ot\on built 
tor nioltiuij ovor tho sLipt. This is little 
olso than a oruoihlo lM\ilt in hriok-work, aiul 
arransTod tor tho Wast to ontor by an apor- 
tviro in tho baok. ;ind for tho niot.al to tunv 
out by anothor oponin^ in front, 

Tho Sootoh hoarth is a small blast furnace, 
but roson>blos tho open forjfi' or blooniary 
liiv for ir>M\ oivs. It has long boon in uso in 
luuvpo. and is tho invest ooninion furn.ioo at 
vHir own uiinos. In this country it h;is boon 
jjri\atly iniprvn-od by tho introduction of hot 
blast ; and in its most perfect form is rop- 
rv^sentod in tho acconijwnyinsj tiguros; tiguro 
(I beiuji a vortical section frvMU front to back, 
and ligure b a horiaontAl section. 




SOOTV'H nK\RTn rVRSACS. 



A is tho reserroir of lo*d of the fiiniace, 
c^>nsistinij of « box, ojhmi at top. aK'>ut two 
fi,H>t st^uare and one f»H>t deej\ fonned of 
cast irvni 2 inches thick. Fri'>n» its upper 
fr^nit e<lge a sloping he»rth. II, is fixovl so as 



to rocoivo tho molted lead that ovortlinvs, 
and conduct it by the groove into the basin, 
H. In this it is kept in a ntelted state bv a 
little tiri' beneath, anvl. as convenient, tho lead 
is ladled out and poured into moulds. I>is 
a hollow shell of cast iron J of an inch thick, 
its inner and outer sides inclosing a space of 
4 inches width. Into this .space the olast is 
introduced at R, and becoming heated, 
passes out at K. and thence through tho 
curved pipe into a tuyere. T, c;»st in the air- 
chest 'J inches above tho level of the lead 
reservoir. Hefore eomnieneing operations 
this n'sorvoir is to be tilled with lead, and is 
thus kept so long as the furnace is in use ; 
tho (process being conducted upon the sur- 
foco of tho ntoltod metal. The furnace mav 
bo kept in continn;»l operation by addintj 
new charges of galena every ten or lit'toou 
minutes, .and working them down attor thev 
have become r<iasted at the surface. Tho 
fuel employed is dry pine wood split into 
small piooes. and billots of those are thr\>wu 
in ;»gainst the tuyere jiist before each now 
charge of ore. that already in the furnace 
being raked forwar<l upon the he.arth to 
make ri^om tor the fuel, and the blast boinji 
temporarily turned oti". The old charsre is 
then thrown, together with tWsh ore, upon 
the wood, and the blast is let on, when tho 
heat and tl.iino immediately spri\ad thr>Mi<;h 
the materials. The sulphur in the ore serves 
itself as fuel, accelerating tho prvicoss by its 
combustion, and in a few minuter the 
whole chanre is stirred up. spn^ad out on the 
hoarth, auvi the luml, unre»luced fragments 
ari> brvikon in pieces by blows of the sliovel. 
Slaked lime is sometimes added in small 
quantity when the jv»rti.-»lly reduiHvI ore be- 
comes tiHi sot\ and p.asty by excess of heat^ 
Its et^vt is to lessen this tendency rather bv 
mochauical than chemical action. If any 
tinx is used, it is tinor spar, blacksmith's 
cinders, orbits of iron. Ihe latter h.'»steu 
tho rciluction by the atlinity of tho ir\^n for 
the sulphur of the ore. The c;ist irv^n of the 
air-t>hest is prv>toctOiI fron\ tho action of tho 
sulphur by tho cooling intluonco o{ the air 
blown in ; and this is also advant;ia>H'>us bv 
its keeping tho ftimaco frv^m becoming so 
hvvt, that the galena would molt before losing 
its sulphnr, and thus form combinations of 
oxootHiingly ditlicnlt roiluction. A fan. run 
by stoAm or water jv>wor, is commonly ora- 
pioye<.I for raising tho bl.sst : but .is this gives 
little pressure, it is roplacoil to great adran- 
tAjTo bv blovrini: ovUnders, With an air- 



l.tAO. 



m 



Tttf.ttiv'iT for (giving regrikrity U> t\ifi <jurr<jnt ' «U1«» l/dng kept '/p'm at thh vianfi time t/> ak 
t>( -At. With Mj';h afi ar/parat'i*, til/; (tffi'ilUrr low frw; a'wt** of air, Tiift o%iAMif>n t/f t\ie 
can af>ply tJi/- b)a»t with great a/J vantage at Milphur ijs expedited by alrrxAt c/>ristarrt 
tiro<^ t/-^ [i/:Ip 1/xxKm op the charge and ttirring of tf»« efiarge, whi/:h l/rir>g« fre*h 
throw ttw: flarne thr'/tigh every part of it ! yitii'nut to ttwi «iirfe/'^;, f;a»i*irig an erolution 
ITw: ore* are pTfijtAtfA for Kmefting by Wfp- i of white fam««. A* the»i hregin t^/ dimiu'uih, 
arating from th«ra all the (st/^ny and clayey ' tlie fire U started on the grat*, and the heat 
pirti<;l*«, arid a« mri/;b ais pontwible of th* is raijsed till tlie cl»arge itfifUioii and the piec^ 
blende and other imptiritie« tfiat rnay afi- of ore a/lh<rre to tlie rake. The doors are 
corn[/any tl»/;tf(. Tliw may require a *uc/yr»- [ then cl//«ed, and th* fire i« urgel t^r a 
•ion of rnfc'rliar»i/;al pro';/r«^ai>, in whiA;h the quart/iT of an lioar, when the snuelterr opens 
orc« are crushed to fine fragrfl«it« and dr'^is- the do'/r to *ee if the metal )>eparat«s and 
*^ ^'X j'Jf^'f? an'i <!';reening under wat/;r. ^ flow* down tl»e ir««lined hearth. If the «ep- 
\ot only ifc tl»/: labor and c/yrt of isnieltirig r':- aration d'/e* n//t go on well, it l* hastened 
du/;/:d by the purity of tlie ore, an/i e«p<fj- by op^inirig one of the door», partially cool- 
cialiy itK fr(:^;dom from blende and pyrites, ing the fumae';, arjd stirring the charge. The 
but the quality also of the metal i* tl»/;reby fire bs tfi/;n a^^rain urged. If the »la^ which 
improved. Lead that contain* iron i« n'/t form iscrm t/^ r^^jnire it, he treat* them with 
a/lapt/jd for tlie manufacture of whiU^-lea/l. a ftjw Kh//velfuU of lime and fine c</al ; and 
Tlie American m/:tal being generally free when, after having flowed down into the 
from this bringis a higher price than .Sj/anijih lower portion '/f the hearth, they are 
or EnglLith lea/1 With pure ore a cord of , brought into a doughy consistency, the 
woo^i may l>e made to produce four tons of ' «melter pa»he« the islag to the opp'^te apper 
lead ; and each fuma/^s 7,500 lb*, everj- 24 edge of the hearth, from whi/:b it is taken 
houns ; a smelter and his a>Hti>ttant managing out through a d'Kjr on that side by hi* a»- 
the operation for 12 hoars. At K/^ssie sLi-tant, wiiile he let* off the lead into th« 
large quantities of lead have thus been receiver. 

smelted at a daily c^/^t for lalK/r of |.5, and Tlie viparatif/n by this method is not so 
for fuel of % 1 . 50, making % 1.75 per ton. In perfect a* by the Sc/tch hearth, and the 
Wisconsin, before the aise of the hot bla^t, expenise of fuel us greater ; but the rerefbe- 
ea<,-h fumace-iihift was continued from 8 to 10 rat/>rj- is worke/l without the necessitjr of 
hours, until 30 pig* of lead were pro^lu^ed rteam or water [/ower, which is required to 
of 2,100 lbs. weight, at an expense of about raise the blaftt for the other process. The 
$4 for labor, and ^1.30 for fneL | slag's of the reverberatory contain so mach 

The other tona of fumaee — the rerer- ' lead that they are always remelted ia the 
beratory — resembles others of this class em- j slag furnace. Those of the Scotch hearth, 
ployed in smelting copper ores. The sole, ' when pore ore« are employed, are sufficiently 
or hearth, upon which the ores are spread, is . clear of metal without farther reduction. In 
about 8 feet in length by 6 in breadth, and Europe other sorts of furnaces are in use, 
is ma<ie to incline rapidly toward an aper- which are adapte/l paiticolarly for ores of 
ture on one side, or at the end under the poorer quality than are ever emitted in the 
chimney, and oat of which the lead is Unite/] States. 

allowed at the end of each smelting to j In the Ilartz mountains, at Clansthal, 
flow into a receiver outside. The charge is argentiferous silver or^ containing much 
supplied either through a hf/pper in the \ silica are worked in close cupola furnaces, 
arched roof, or through the holes in the , into which only enough mt is admitted to 
sides, which also ser^-e for admitting the consume the fuel The object is not to 
pokers use/l by the workmen to stir up the roast out the sulphur, bxit to cause this to 
charge. Unless the galena has been jire- ' combine with the granulated cast iron or 
viously calcined or roasted — a process neces- : with the quick-lime, either of which is mixed 
sary for poor ores only — this is the first | with the ores to flux them and form a fiisible 
thing to be attended to in all the smelting ' compound with the enlphnr, through which 
operations. In the large charge of 30 cwt. the metallic lead cao easily find its way to 
of ore this usually takes the first two hours the bottom. The production of a silicate of 
of the process, and is efiected in great part lead is thus avoided, which is a difficult 
by the heat remaining in the furnace from compound to reduce, and is always formed 
the preceding operation, the doors at the 1 when much silica Is present. This process 



90 



MIXING IXDISTRY OF THE IXITED STATES. 



■will probably be applied to some of the si- 
licious ores of the United States, and may 
be particularly suited to the Washoe ores of 
California. 

By all the methods of reducintj lead a 
great loss is incurred by the volatilization of 
a portion of the lead in white fumes, called 
lead ashes. These are carried up through 
the chimney of the furnace and fall upon 
the ground in the neighborhood, poisoning 
the vegetation and the water by the carbon- 
ate of lead, which results from the fumes. 
Trees even are killed, and the dogs die otf, 
and also the cattle. In Scotland the lead 
has been detected in chemical examinations 
of the bodies of animals thus killed, and it 
was particularly noticeable in the spleen. 
For the injury thus occasioned at the fur- 
naces of the United States no remedy has 
been applied, but at many of the great es- 
tablishments in Europe, where the loss of 
lead and the damage to the neighborhood 
is much more serious, attempts have been 
made to arrest the fumes, by causing them 
to pass through long flues in the chimney 
stacks, in which the particles on cooling 
■would settle down; and their cooling has 
been hastened bv showers of water falling 
among the vapors. Flues have been extended 
great distances beyond the works, and have 
been found much more etficient than any 
form of condensation by sudden cooling. 
Some of the works constructed for this pur- 
pose are very remarkable for their great 
extent and the saving thev have effected, 
and similar ones may perhaps be found well 
worthy of construction at some of the smelt- 
ing establishments in the United States. At 
the works of Mr. Beaumont, in Northum- 
berland, England, horizontal or slightly in- 
clined g:>llerics have been completed in stone- 
■work, 8 feet high and 6 feet wide, for an 
extent of 8, TS9 yards (nearly five miles). 
This is from one mill alone. The s;ime pro- 
prietor has connected with other mills in 
the same district and in Durham four miles 
of galleries for the same purpose. The 
■writer who gives the account of these in the 
recent edition of Ure's Dictionary, by Rob-' 
ert Hunt, remarks: "The value of the 
lead thus saved from being tot^illy dissipated 
and dispersed, and obtained from what in 
common parlance might be called chimney | 
sweepings, considerably exceeds £10.000 i 
sterling annually, and tonus a striking illus- 
tration of the importance of economizing j 
our waste products." Not ooly is lead lost : 



in the fumes, but in the working of argentif- 
erous lead ores, a portion of the silver too 
is carried otF and deposited with them. The 
fumes collected at the works of the Duke 
of Buccleuch yield one-third their weight of 
lead, and five ounces of silver to the ton. The 
loss of silver is of little importance in this 
country, where this metal is not obtained at 
the present time, unless it be at the Wash- 
ington mine, in North Carolina, and at the 
Washoe mines, in California; and conse- 
quently methods of separating it from the 
lead possess little more than scientific interest. 
In the smelting of .argentiferous lead ores, 
the silver goes with the lead, beins; com- 
pletely dissolved and diffused throughout its 
substance. The usual way of separatincj it is 
founded on the principle of the lead being a 
metal easily oxidized and converted into the 
substance called litharge, in which condi- 
tion it lets go the silver, which has no .aflinity 
either for the new compound of oxygen and 
lead, or for the oxygen alone. The change 
is effected by melting the lead in the shallow 
basins called cupels, formed of a porous 
earthy material, as the pulverized ashes of 
burned bones, kneaded with water, and 
mixed in a framework of iron. W"hen dried, 
these are set in a reverberatory furnace, and 
the pigs of lead are melted upon their sur- 
face. After being thoroughly heated, a cur- 
rent of air is made to draw through an open- 
ing in the side of the furnace directly upon 
the face of the melted metal. This oxidizes 
the lead, and the yellow litharge with more 
or less red oxide, called minium, collects in 
a thin film upon its surface, and floats otf to 
the edge, sinking into and incrusting the 
cupel and falliui; over its side into a recep- 
tacle placed to receive it. This process goes 
on, the lead gradually disappearinij as the 
oxygen combines with it, till with the re- 
moval of the last films of oxide the melted 
silver suddenly presents its brilliant, perfectly 
unsullied face. The oxide of lead may be 
collected and sold for the purposes of 
lithai^e, as for a pigment, for use in the 
manufacture of glass, etc. ; or it may be 
mixed with fine coal and converted hack 
into lead, the carbon of the coal effecting 
this change by the greater affinity it has at 
a high heat for the oxygen, than the lead has 
to retain it. By this process, known as 
cupellation, lead is hardly worth treating for 
silver, unless it contain about 10 ounces to 
the ton of the precious metal ; and it was 
therefore an important object to devise a 



LEAD. 



91 



method of saving with economy the silver 
lost in the large quantities of the poorer 
argentiferous leads. Such a method was 
accidentally discovered in 1829 by Mr. 
Pattinson, of Newcastle, and is now exten- 
sively in use in Europe for the poorer silver- 
leads, cupellation being preferred for the 
richer. He observed that when the lead 
containing silver forms crystals, as it is 
stirred while in a melted state, the crystals 
contain little or none of the silver, and may 
be removed, thus concentratinsj the silver 
in the portions left behind. This crystal- 
lizing process is applied in the large way -as 
follows : Cast iron pots are set in brick- 
work side by side, capable of holding each 
one 4 or 5 tons of lead. The middle one 
is first charged, and when the lead is melted 
and stirred, the fire is removed under the 
next pot to the right ; and into this crystals 
of lead as they form are ladled by means of 
a sort of cullender, which lets the fluid lead 
fall back. This instrument is kept hotter 
than the lead by frequently dipping it in a 
pot of lead over a separate fire. When four- 
fifths of the lead have been transferred to 
the pot to the right, the remainder, which 
contains all the silver, is removed to the next 
pot to the left, and the middle pot is then 
charged with fresh lead, which is treated in 
the same manner. The process is repeated 
with each pot, as it becomes full, four-fifths 
of its contents going to the next pot to the 
right, and one-fifth to the next to the left, 
and thus the lead is finally discharged into 
moulds at one end, and the argentiferous 
alloy, concentrated to the richness of 300 
ounces of silver to the ton, is run into bars 
about 2 inches square. From these the 
silver is obtained by cupellation. At one 
establishment in Englaud, that of Messrs. 
Walker, Parker & Co., the weekly product 
of silver is from 8,000 to 10,000 ounces. 
Whenever the lead mines of the eastern 
states are made to yield regular returns of 
lead, the separation of its silver is likely to 
be carried on in independent establishments, 
supplied like the copper-smelting works with 
material from various sources. Works hav- 
ing these objects in view were established 
in the fall of 1860, at Brooklyn, New York, 
by Messrs. Bloodgood & Ambler, and will 
commence operations with the smelting of 
the Washoe silver-lead ores from California, 
of which over sixty tons have been delivered 
at the works for reduction. Their success- 
ful treatment will no doubt be followed by 
6* 



the shipment of other ores of the difl^erent 
metals from various sources ; and it is to be 
hoped that it will hereafter be found more 
advantageous to send ores to New York to 
be reduced, than to the smelting establish- 
ments on the other side of the Atlantic. 

Useful Applications of Lead. — A con- 
siderable part of the lead product of the world 
is converted into the carbonate, known a^ 
white lead, and used as a paint. The prin- 
cipal articles of metallic lead are sheet lead, 
lead pipe, and shot. Sheet lead is manu- 
factured in two ways. The melted lead is 
upset from a trough suspended over a per- 
fectly level table, covered with fine sand, and 
furnished with a raised margin ; and when 
the metal has spread over this, a couple of 
workmen, one on each side, carry along a 
bar supported upon the margin, pushing 
forward the excess of lead above that neces- 
sary for the required thickness, till it falls 
over the end of the table. By the other 
method, called milling, the lead is cast in a 
pl.ate, 6 or 7 feet square, and 6 inches thick, 
and this being taken up by a crane, is placed 
upon a line of wooden rollers, which form 
a flooring for the length it may be of 70 or 
80 feet and a width of 8 feet. Across the mid- 
dle of this line are set the two heavy iron 
rolls by which the lead plate is compressed, 
as it is passed between them. The top of 
the lower roll is on a level with the top of 
the wooden rollers, and the upper roll is so 
arranged that it can be set nearer to or further 
from the lower one, as the thickness of the 
plate requires. 

Lead pipe was formerly made by turning 
up sheet lead and soldering the edges ; and 
is still prepared in this way for the large 
sizes, as those over six inches diameter. Af- 
ter this a method was contrived of casting 
the lead in a hollow cylindrical plug, its 
inner diameter of the bore required, and then 
drawing this down through slightly conical 
dies of decreasing diameter, a mandril or 
steel rod being inserted to retain the uniform 
diameter of the bore. Pipes made in this 
way were limited to 15 to 18 feet in length, 
and the metal was full of flaws. Many at- 
tempts have been made to cast long lengths 
of lead pipe, all of which have proved unsuc- 
cessful. In 1820 Thomas Burr, of England, 
first applied the hydraulic press to forcing 
lead, when beginning to solidify in cooling, 
through an annular space between a hollow 
ring and a solid core secured in its centre. 
He thus produced pipes of considerable 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



length. The method of forcing the Hquid 
metal througli dies to form pipes was, how- 
ever, fii-st p.'iteiited in 1797 by Bramah, who 
used a pump foi- this purpose. The process 
was introduced into this country in 1840-41 
by Messrs. Tatliam & Brothers, now of New 
York, who invented and patented an impor- 
tant improvement in tlie method of secur- 
ing the die and core. In this operation the 
melted lead is made to flow from the furnace 
into a cylindrical cavity in a block of cast 
iron, which may be of 1 800 lbs. weight, and 
from this, when cooled to the proper tem- 
perature, it is forced out through the die by 
a closel3'-fitting piston. By one process the 
piston, starting from the bottom of the cylin- 
drical cavity, moves upward, carrying with it 
the slender core or rod which determines the 
diameter of the bore of the pipe, and pushes 
the melted lead before it through the die 
fixed in the top of the cast iron block. The 
pipe as it is formed passes out from the top 
of the machine, and is coiled around a re- 
ceiving drum. By the machine contrived by 
Mr. Cornell of New York, the great iron 
block containins the lead rises by the press- 
ure of the hydraulic machine, and the piston 
which is fixed above it enters the cavity. 
The piston in this case is hollow and the die 
is set in its lower end. The core is secured 
in the bottom of the block, and is carried 
upward as this rises. The pressure applied 
in this operation amounts to 200 to 300 tons. 
Dies are used of a great variety of sizes, accord- 
ing to the kind of pipe required. Lead wire 
is made in this way with a die of \-cry small 
size without a core. It is used for securing 
vines and attaching tags to fruit trees and 
shrubs. The principal works in the United 
States engaged in the manufacture of sheet 
lead and lead pipe are in New York, Boston, 
Philadelphia, Chicago, Cincinnati, and Saint 
Louis. 

Lead pipe is in general use as the most 
convenient conduit for water for domestic 
purposes. It is readily bent to any angle, 
and is made to adapt itself to any position. 
When water freezes within and bursts it, the 
damage is easily repaired ; joints are also 
made with little trouble. The lead is not 
liable to become rusty like iron, and is 
cheaper than tin or copper. These qualities 
give to it a preference over other kinds of 
pipe, notwithstanding the ver}- serious objec- 
tion that the lead is often acted upon b)- the 
water, and produces poisonous salts of a very 
dantjerous character. Some waters more than 



others have a tendency to promote the oxid- 
ation of the lead. This is particularly likely 
to occur with nearly all waters in pipes which 
are alternately exposed to the action of air 
and water, as when the water being drawn 
out, the air enters and takes its place. The 
oxide of lead is converted by carbonic acid 
gas, which is present in almost all water, into 
a carbonate of lead which is soluble to some 
extent in an excess of the gas, and is carried 
along, bearing no indication of its presence, 
wdiile the lead pipe continues to be corroded 
until it may be in places eaten nearly through. 
The water used for drinking and for culinary 
purposes is thus continually introducing an 
insidious poison into the system, the effect 
of which is at last experienced in the disease 
known as the painters' colic, often followed 
by paralysis. As this occurs without a sus- 
picion being awakened of the real source of 
the disease, and is produced by quantities so 
small as from -Jj to J^ of a grain in the gal- 
lon, the use of lead pipe is properly regard- 
ed by scientific men as always unsafe ; and 
some substitute for this metal in pipes and 
in sheets used for lining water cisterns, is 
highly desirable. It has been proposed to 
coat the pipe with some insoluble lining; 
but such an application necessarily increases 
its cost, it may perhaps be removed by hot 
water flowing through the pipe, and the pur- 
chaser may have no confidence in the coating 
being faithfully applied, or as certain to be 
efficient during long-continued use. Block 
tin is perfectly safe, but it is expensive, and 
is moreover likely to be alloyed with the 
cheaper metal lead, which in this condition 
is thought to be equally dangerous as when 
used alone. As no popular substitute for 
lead is provided, it is a reasonable precaution 
for those employing it to be always watchful 
and on their gu<ard against its evil effects — 
using as little of it as necessary, causing the 
water to be occasionally tested, and, when- 
ever opportunity offers, cutting open and ex- 
amining pieces of the pipe to see whether iis 
internal surface is corroded, and every morn- 
ing before using the water that h.as stood in 
the pipes, to cause this to flow away to- 
gether with enough more to thoroughlj' wash 
out the pipes and remove any salts of lead 
that may have formed in them during the 
night. 

Large quantities of lead are consumed in 
the L^nited States in the manufacture of shot 
and bullets ; and one ingenious method of 
producing shot is an American invention. 



93 



The quality of the lead emplo\'e<:l for this 
purpose is of little importance. The harder 
and inferior sorts, which would not answer 
for the white lead manufacture, are economi- 
cally diverted to this object. If too brittle, 
from the iron and antimony combined with 
the lead, the metal is made to assume the right 
quality by mixing with it a small proportion 
of arsenic, which, for most kinds of lead, 
may amount to one per cent. To introduce 
this into the lead a large pot of the metal is 
molted, and powdered charcoal or ashes is 
laid around its edge. The arsenical com- 
pound, either of white arsenic or of orpi- 
ment (the sulphuret of arsenic), is then stir- 
red into the centre of the mass, and a cover 
is tightly luted over the pot. In the course 
of a few hours, the mixture being kept hot, 
the combination of the lead with the arsenic 
is completed, and a portion of litharge floats 
upon the surface. This is formed from the 
oxygen of the white arsenic uniting with 
some of the lead, and it retains a portion of 
the arsenic. The alloy is now tried b}' let- 
ting a small quantity of it fall from a mod- 
erate height through a strainer into water. 
From the appearance of the globules the 
quality of the mixture is judged of. If 
they are lens-shaped, too much arsenic has 
been used ; but if they are flattened on the 
side, or hollowed in the middle, or drag with 
a tail behind them, the proportion of arsenic 
is too small. When a proper mixture is ob- 
tained it is run into bars, and these are taken 
to the top of a tower, from 100 to 2uu feet 
high, where the load is molted and poured 
through cullenders, which are kept hot by 
being placed in a sort of chafing-dish con- 
taining burning charcoal. The lead is thus 
divided into drops that fall to the bottom, 
and are received in a vessel of water. Each 
cullender has holes all of the same size, which 
is considerably less than that of the shot 
produced by them. This is owing to the 
drop of melted lead first assuming an elon- 
gated fonn, which is concentrated into tlie 
globular by the air impinging equally upon 
all sides in the course of its descent. When 
it reaches the water, it is important that it 
should have cooled throughout, so that no 
solid crust be suddenly formed over a fluid 
interior ; and hence, for large shot it is evi- 
dent the height of the f;ill must be greater 
than is required for small shot. The tem- 
perature of the lead also, when it is dropped, 
must vary according to the size of the shot; 
for the largest size being so low that a straw 



is hardly browned when thrust into it. A 
portion of the lead becomes oxidized and is 
cauglit in the cullender, the bottom of which 
it coats, and serves a useful purpose by 
checking the too rapid flow of the melted 
lead through the holes. The holes vary 
in size, from -^^ of an inch for shot larger 



than No. 1, to 



of an inch for No. 9. 



The shot being taken out of the water and 
dried upon the surface of a long steam chest, 
are transferred to an iron cask suspended 
upon an axis passing through its ends, and 
a little plumbago being introduced with 
them, the cask is made to revolve until the 
shot are thoroughly cleaned and polished. 
The next operation is to separate the imper- 
fect ones from the good. This is done by 
rolling them all together down a succession 
of inclined platforms, separated by a narrow 
space between each. The good shot clear 
these spaces and are caught below, while the 
bad ones fall through upon the floor. The 
good are then introduced into the sifters for 
assorting them according to their sizes. 
Several sieves are arranged like drawers in a 
case ; the coarsest above, and finer ones suc- 
ceeding below'. The upper tier of sieves be- 
inff chartred, the case is set rocking, and the 
shot are soon assorted, and are then read}' for 
packing in bags. Bullets and buck-shot are 
moulded by hand from a large pot of the 
metal into moulds with many receptacles. 

The American process of shot-making was 
invented in 1848 by David Smith, of the 
firm of T. 0. Leroy & Co., of New York, 
by whom it is exclusively used. Its object 
is to dispense with the use of the costly high 
towers, by substituting for them a lower fall 
against an ascending current of air. This 
current is produced by a fan-blower operat- 
ing at the base of an upright hollow shaft 
into which the shot are dropped from a 
moderate height. The power required to 
run tlie fan is not much more than that or- 
dinaril}' expended in raising the lead to the 
top of the high towers ; and it is found that 
the load, in consequence of its being more 
rapidly and equally cooled in the short de- 
scent against the current of air, may be useil 
at a higher temperature than is practicable 
with that dropped from high towers ; and 
thus it may not onl}- be poured more rapidly, 
but it has not the tendency to burst in falling 
and form imperfect shot, as is the case with 
that dropped from high towers, to guard 
against which the lead is kept at a low tem- 
perature. 



94 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



There are in New York city, besides this 
operation, which is carried on by Messrs. 
Lcroy, in Water street, three shot towers, 
and a fourth is nearly completed on Staten 
Island. The ordinary capacity ot" these is 
from 3000 to 4000 tons of shot per annum. 
The annual shot production of St. Louis is 
about the same as that of New York, though 
there is now onl}' one shot tower in use. 
There were formerly seven more on the river 
bluffs below the city, but these have hardly 
been used since 1847. In Baltimore is a 
tower the height of which, includini; ten 
feet constructed below the surface of the 
ground, is 256 feet, which exceeds by one 
foot the height of the famous tower in Vi- 
enna, described by Dr. Ure as the highest 
structure of the kind in the world, being 
249 feet above the surface of the ground. 
Its production is stated to be about 400 
tons per annum. In Philadelphia there is 
one tower wliich makes about 300 tons an- 
nually ; in Wythe county, Virginia, is one 
formed in one of the shafts of the mine, 
making about 200 tons ; and on the Wis- 
consin river, at Helena, is a small tower 
probably making about as much inoie. The 
actual production of the country in sliot and 
bullets is supposed to be about 7000 tons, 
and to have made but little advance for 
many years past. 

White LEAo.^Before the introduction 
of the oxide of zinc as a paint, one of the 
most important uses of lead was its conver- 
sion into the carbonate or white lead. The 
manufacture was originally carried on almost 
exclusively in Holland ; and it was not until 
near the close of the last century that it was 
introduced into England. In the United 
States it was unknown until alter the war of 
1812, and being first undertaken in Pliiladel- 
l)!iia, it was afterward cxiended to New York 
and Brooklyn, and in the latter city has pros- 
pered more than in any other part of the 
country. Various attempts have been made 
to introduce new metliods of manufacture, but 
the old Dutch process has continued in gen- 
eral use; the modifications of it which have 
raised the manufacture in this country to a 
higher state of perfection than in any other 
part of the world being merely improve- 
ments in the details, by which ingenious 
machinery has been made to diminish the 
labor expended in the process. 

White lead is a combination of oxide of 
lead with carbonic acid, and is obtained in 
the form of a soft, very white, and heavy 



powder. It mixes readily with oil, giving 
to it a drying property, spreads well under 
the brush, and perfectly covers the surfaces 
to which it is applied. It is not only em- 
ployed alone as the best sort of white paint, 
but is the general material or body of a great 
number of paints, the colors of which are 
produced by mixing suitable coloring mat- 
ters with the white lead. Besides its use as 
a paint it is also in demand to a considerable 
extent as an ingredient in the so-called vul- 
canized india-rubber. To prepare it, the 
purest pig lead, such as the refined foreign 
lead and the metal from the upper mines of 
the Mississippi, is almost exclusively used. 
This was by the old methods made in thin 
sheets, and these into small rolls, to be sub- 
jected to the chemical treatment. But ac- 
cording to the American method devised by 
Mr. Augustus Graham of Brooklyn, and now 
generally adopted, the lead is cast into cir- 
cular gratings or "buckles," which closely 
resemble in form the laige old-fashioned 
shoe-buckles, from which they receive their 
name. They are six or eight inches in di- 
ameter, and the lead hardly exceeds one 
sixth of an inch in thickness. Ingenious 
methods of casting them are in use in the 
American factories, by which the lead is run 
upon moulds directly from the furnace, and 
the buckles are separated from each other 
and delivered without handling into the 
vessels for receiving them. They are then 
packed in earthen pots shaped like flower- 
pots, each of which is provided with a 
ledge or three projecting points in the in- 
side, intended to keep the pieces above the 
bottom, in which is placed some strong vine- 
gar or acetic add. It is recommended th:it 
on one side the pot should be partially open 
above the ledge, and if made full all round, 
it is well to knock out a piece in order to 
admit a freer circulation of vapors through 
the lead. In large establishments an im- 
mense supply of these pots is kept on h.ind, 
the number at the single manufactory of 
Messrs. Battelle & Renwick, on the Iludioi, 
being not less than 200,000. They con- 
tinue constantly in use till accidentally 
broken below the ledge. Being packed 
close together in rows upon a bed of spent 
tan, a foot to two feet thick, and thin sheets 
of lead are laid among and over the pots in 
several thicknesses, but always so as to leave 
open spaces among them. An area is thus 
covered, it may be twenty feet square or 
of less dimensions, and is enclosed by board 



LEAD. 



95 



partitions, which, upon suitable framework, 
can be carried up twenty-five feet high if 
required. When the pots and the inter- 
stices among them are well packed with 
lead, a flooring of boards is laid over them, 
and upon this is spread another layer of 
tan ; and in the same manner eight or ten 
•courses are built up, containing in all, it may 
be, 12,000 pots and 50 or 60 tons of lead, 
all of which are buried beneath an upper 
layer of tan. As the process of conversion 
requires from eight to twelve weeks, the 
large factories have a succession of these 
stacks which are charged one after another, 
so that when the process is completed in 
one, and the pots and lead have been re- 
moved and the chamber is recharged, anoth- 
er is ready for the same operation. 

The conversion of metallic lead into car- 
bonate is induced by the fermenting action, 
Avhieh commences in the tan soon after the 
pile is completed. The heat thus generated 
evaporates the vinegar, and the vapors of 
water and acetic acid rising among the lead 
oxidize its surface and convert it externally 
into a subacetate of lead; at the same time 
carbonic acid evolved from the tan circulates 
among the lead and transforms the acetate 
into carbonate of the oxide, setting the 
acetic acid free to renew its office upon 
fresh surfaces of lead. When the tan ceases 
to ferment the process is at an end, and the 
stack may then be taken to pieces. The 
lead is f mnd in its original forms, but of 
increased bulk and weight, and more or less 
completely converted into the white carbo- 
nate. The thoroughness of the operation 
depends upon a variety of circHmstances ; 
even the weather and season of the year 
having an influence upon it. The pieces 
not entirely converted have a core of me- 
tallic or " blue" lead beneath the white car- 
bonate crust. The separation is made by 
beating ofl' the white portion, and this being 
done upon perforated copper shelves set in 
large wooden tanks and covered with water, 
the escape of the fine metallic dust is entire- 
ly prevented and its noxious effect upon 
the health of the workmen is avoided. In 
Europe, rolling machines closely covered 
are applied to the same purpose, but less 
effectuall)-. The white lead thus collected 
is next ground with water between mill- 
stones to a thin paste, and by repeated 
grindings and washings this is reduced to 
an impalpable consistency. The water is 
next to be removed, and, according to the 



European plan, the creamy mixture is next 
turned into earthen pots, and these are ex- 
posed upon shelves to a temperature not ex- 
ceeding 300° until perfectly dry. Instead 
of this laborious method, the plan is adopted 
in the American works of emploving shal- 
low pans of sheet copper, provided with a 
false bottom, beneath which steam from the 
exhaust-pipe of the engine is admitted to 
promote evaporation. These pans or " dry- 
ing kilns" are sometimes 100 feet long and 
6 feet broad, and seveial are set in the build- 
ing one above another. The liquid lead 
paste is pumped up into large tanks, and tho 
heavier portion settling down, is drawn off 
into the pans, while the thinner liquid from 
the surface is returned to be mixed with 
fresh portions of white lead. Beside pans, 
tile tables heated by flues in the masonrv of 
which they are built, are also employed. 
From four to six days are required for thor- 
oughly drying the wdiite lead. This is the 
finishing process, after which the lead is 
ready for packing in small casks for the 
market. 

The manufacture of white lead, which 
was formerly an unhealthy and even dan- 
gerous occupation, has been so much im- 
proved by the expedients for keeping the 
material wet and thus preventing the rising 
of the fine dust, that the peculiar lead dis- 
ease now rarely attacks the workmen. The 
business is conducted altogether upon a large 
scale, and gives employment to numerous 
extensive factories in different parts of the 
country. Some of these have arrangements 
for converting-stacks that extend under cover 
200 feet in length, and their facilities for 
grinding and drying are proportionally ex- 
tensive. These, and the time required for 
fully completing the process and getting the 
white lead ready for market — which is from 
three to four months — involve the use of 
large capital and tend to keep the business 
in few hands. 

There is a vastly increasing demand for 
pure white lead, and the competition and 
watchfulness of the trade insure the gen- 
uineness of the article thus warranted by 
the manufacturers. A large class of cus- 
tomers are the grinders, who form a distinct 
trade, and use and mix the pure article with 
other substances and with coloring matters 
to suit their purposes. The mineral, sul- 
phate of barytes or heavy spar, is the chief 
article used to adulterate white lead, and for 
this purpose it is obtained from mines in 



96 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



Connecticut and other places, and is exten- 
sively ground in mills for this use alone. 
When perfectly pure, the powder is abso- 
lutely white ; it has about the same weight 
as white lead, and is quite as indestructible ; 
it is, indeed, less acted upon or discolored 
by noxious vapors. It lacks, however, the 
body of white lead, and is not so brilliant '■ 
and v/lienever used in any proportion ma- 
terially injures the paint in those good 
fjiiallties. Oxide of zinc is also largely mix- 
ed with white lead, as will be noticed more 
particularly in the succeeding chapter. 

The principal white lead works, together 
with the probable amount of their annual 
production, in the United States are as 
follows : — 

No. of Works. Tons. 

Brooklyn, N. Y 4 8000 

Statcn'Jslantl, N. V 1 1500 

Hudson RiviT (Saugertics), N. Y.. 1 1500 

Bumilo, N. Y 1 600 

Philadelphia, Pa -B 3500 

Pittsburg, Pa 5 4000 

Baltimore, Md 1 600 

Boston, Mass 1 1000 

Salem, Mass 1 1500 

Cineinnati, 2 1500 

Louisville, Kv 1 700 

Chirano, 111.." 2 1200 

St. Louis, Mo 3 4000 



CHAPTER V. 

ZINC. 

While the production of the lead mines 
has been falling off in the United States, 
that of the zinc mines has been steadily in- 
creasing since they were first worked about 
twenty years since ; and the metal is applied 
to some purposes for which lead has heretofore 
been almo-t exclusively used. The growing 
importance of this product in the United 
States will justify a reference to the zinc 
manufacture of Europe. 

The metal, as mentioned in the chapter 
on Copper, very curiously escaped the no- 
tice of the ancients, though they obtained it 
from its ores in preparing brass, an alloy of 
copper and zinc. In the metallurgical proc- 
esses it is readily sublimed by heat, and 
when its fumes come in contact with the air 
they arc immediately oxidized, burning with 
a greenish white flame, and are then con- 
verted into the white oxide of zinc — a com- 
pound of one equivalent of the metal = ,34, 
and one of oxygen = 8 ; which correspond 



respectively to 81 and 9 per cent. These 
fumes when collected are found to be a 
white flocculent powder, now known as the 
white oxide of zinc, or zinc paint. If the 
vapor of zinc be protected from contact 
of air and passed through pipes into water, 
it is condensed into metallic drops, and 
these may be melted in close vessels and 
poured into moulds. Cast zinc is a brittle 
metal of bluish white color and greater lus- 
tre than that of lead. By heating it to the 
temperature of 212° to 300" F.lt entirely 
loses its brittleness, and is made malleable 
and ductile, so that it can be rolled out into 
sheets. Its melting point is 680", while 
that of lead is G08". 

A variety of ores are worked for this 
metal ; as the sulphuret, called blende ; the 
carbonate, called smithsonite ; and the sil- 
icate of zinc, or calamine. The last two 
usually occur associated together. The red 
oxide is an important ore, but found only in 
New Jersey. Blende almost universally ac- 
companies galena, and in some lead mines 
is the prevailing ore. The miners call it 
black jack. W^hen pure, it consists of zinc 
67, sulphur 33. Being more difficult to re- 
duce than the other ores, it has been com- 
paratively little used, though the Chinese 
are known to have been successful in their 
management of it. In the United States it 
lies valueless in immense quantities about 
many of the lead mines; but it is not improb- 
able the old refuse heaps will yet be turned to 
profit. At the zinc works near Swansea, in 
Wales, it has been worked for many years; 
and in England it has for a few years past 
come into use. In 1855, it is reported that 
9620 tons of this ore from various mines 
were sold ; while of the calamine ores, the 
produce of the Alston Moor mines, sales of 
only 182 tons were reported. More ores 
of each sort were no doubt smelted, but the 
proportion of each was probably not very 
different from that stated. Dr. Ure, in his 
Dictionary, speaks of this ore selling at 
Holywell for £3 per ton. In France there 
are now five establishments working blende; 
while in 1840 all the zinc consumed in the 
country was imported. Smithsonite resem- 
bles some yellowish or whitish limestones, 
and usually accompanies these rocks, being 
irregularly bedded among their strata. In 
its best condition it is obtained in large 
blocks of botryoidal and reniform shapes, 
sometimes crystallized. But usually it is in 
porous crumbly masses, much mixed and 



ZINC. 



97 



stained with reddish oxide of iron. The 
pure ore contains 65 per cent, of oxide of 
zinc (which is equivalent to 52 of the 
}nctal) and 35 of carbonic acid. The sili- 
cate of zinc is found intermixed with the 
carbonate, whicli it resembles in appearance. 
It contains, when pure, silica '25.1, water 
7.5, and oxide of zinc 67.4, corresponding 
to 54 per cent, of the mot.al. The red ox- 
ide is found only at Mine Hill and Stirling 
Hill, near Franklin, in the extreme north- 
ern county of New Jersey. The pure oxide, 
of which it is almost exclusively cojnposed, 
contains 80.26 jier cent, of zinc and 19.74 
of oxygen. The bright red color is probably 
derived from the small quantity of oxide of 
manganese present. The ore is mixed with 
franklinite iron ore, each being in distinct 
grains, one red and the other black ; and 
■with these is associated a white crystalline 
limestone, either in disseminated grains with 
the ores, or forming the ground through 
which they are dispersed. Two beds, con- 
sisting of the zinc and iron ores, lie in con- 
tact with each other along the south-eastern 
slope of the Stirling Hill, between the lime- 
stone of the valley and the gneiss of the 
ridge, dipping with the slope of these rocks 
about 40^ toward the valley, and ranging 
north-east and south-west. The upper bed, 
varying from 3 to 8 feet in thickness, con- 
sists of more than 50 per cent, red oxide 
of zinc; and the lower bed, whicli is 12 feet 
thick and in some places more than this, is 
chiefly franklinite, changing to limestone be- 
low, inter-spersed with imperfect crystals of 
franklinite. At Mine Hill, l.J miles north- 
east from Stirling Hill, two distinct beds are 
again found together, tliat containing the 
most zinc in this case being the under one 
of the two, lying next the gneiss. These 
localities have been well explored ; the beds 
have been traced considerable distances 
along their line of outcrop ; and at Stirling 
Hill the red oxide of zinc has been mined 
for more than ten years by the New Jersey 
Zinc Company. Their workings have reached 
to a depth of about 250 feet, and have af- 
forded the finest specimens of zinc ore ever 
seen. A single mass of the red oxide was 
sent in 1851 to the Great Exhibition in 
London, which weighed 16,400 lbs., and at- 
tracted no little attention, from the purity, 
rarity, and extraordinary size of the speci- 
men. The Passaic Mining and Manufactur- 
ing Company also have opened two beds of 
the same ore on their property at Stirling 



Hill, adjoining that of the New Jersey Zinc 
Company, and between 1854 and IS 60 took 
out about 3",000 tons of rich and le:in ores. 
At the depth of 178 feet, the principal bed 
is 21 feet wide, of which about 2i feet is 
rich ore, and the rest limestone sufficiently 
interspersed with oxide of zinc to render it. 
worth dressing. This company coniplett-d, 
in the year 18o9, at the mines, very extens- 
ive works for dressing the lean ores before 
thev are shipped to their furnaces at Jersey 
C tv. The principal supplies of their ores 
hitherto have lieen of the smitlisonite and 
calamine from the mines in the Saueon val- 
lev, Lehigh county, Pennsylvania, of which 
ihey mined about 5,000 tons in the first 
year. These ores are extensively worked 
"to the north of Friedensville, both by this 
comp.any and the Pennsylvania and Le- 
high Zinc Company, whose furnaces are at 
Bethlehem, in Lehigh county. The mines 
of the two companies, which are near to- 
gether, are known as the Saueon mine and 
the Lehigh Zinc Company's mine. They 
were first opened in 1853. The two kinds 
of ore are found together, as is common in 
the European mines, and more or less blende 
is interspersed among them. They form 
very largo irregular beds in limestone of the 
lower Silurian period, and are penetrated by 
veins of quartz, which tr.averse both the ore 
and limestone. Huge masses of limestone 
lie interspersed among the ores. The deep- 
est workings at the Saueon mine are about 
100 feet below the surface; and from this 
depth galleries have been run in every direc- 
tion, exposing to view more than 50,000 
tons of ore. The ores of best quality are 
found in the lower workings. 

About the same time that these mines 
were opened in Lehigh county, another, pro- 
ducing similar kinds of zinc ore, was dis- 
covered near Lancaster, in Pennsylvania; 
but after being exploited it was found to 
contain so much blende and galena, that it 
was abandoned as worthless. Large de- 
posits of the same varieties of zinc ore are 
known to exist in Tennessee ; one locality 
at Mossy Creek, a few miles north-east of 
Knoxville, and another at Powell's river, a 
branch of the Clinch river, in Campbell 
county, about 40 miles nortli of Knoxville. 
These beds, examined by the writer in 1858, 
unquestionably contain very large quantities 
of excellent ore. The former, being close to 
the East Tennessee and Virginia railroad, 
is very conveniently situated ; and the other 



98 



MININU INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATEa. 



is within half a mile of a river navigable at 
certain seasons by flat-boats. Below its 
junction with the Clinch river are beds of 
bituminous coal, and the river is thence nav- 
igable by steamboats. At Kingston it is 
crossed by a railroad. 

Very pure ores of similar character have 
been found in Arkansas. The localities are 
in a lead mining region in Lawrence, Marion, 
and Independence counties ; but chiefly in 
the first named. The ores occur in a forma- 
tion of magnesian limestone, imbedded in 
red ferruginous clay. Tiiey are almost ex- 
clusively smithsonite, containing very small 
proportions of silicate of zinc. Crystals of 
smithsonite and of blende are found upon 
the lumps of pure, flesh-colored ore. The 
district promises to become an important one 
for the supply of zinc to the western states. 

The following are analyses of ores from 
the Saucon valley mines ; the first three by 
Prof John Torrey, of the New York Assay 
Office, being of specimens, and the last two 
of samples of large shipments. No. 4 was 
made at the Assay Office, Hatton Gardens, 
London ; and No. 5 in Paris. 

No. 1. 

Oxide of zinc 48.90 

Carbonic acid 26 40 

Peroxide of iron 3.15 

Carbonate of magnesia 62 

Silica 18.50 

Water 30 

Loss 2.13 

10000 

Metallic zinc 39.30 

No. 2. — Granular Sulphuret of Zinc. 

Sulpliuret of zinc 73.27 

Sulphuret of iron 1.49 

Silica 25.50 

100.26 

Metallic zinc 49.09 

No. 3. — Waxy Sulphuret of Zinc. 

Sulphuret of zinc 97. G3 

Sulphuret of iron 1.54 

Silica 1.40 

100.57 

Met.allic zinc 65.41 

No. 4. — Mixture of Blende and Carbonate of Zinc. 

Zinc 61.70 

Sulphur 19.82 

Iron 4.76 

Silica 1.00 

Carbonic acid 9.90 

Phosphate of lime 88 

Oxygen, water, and loss 1.94 

100.00 
Contains of silver 4.15 ozs. to the ton of 20 cwt. 



No. 5. 

Zinc \ f 42 

O.tygen .... V Carbonate of zinc, 75.1 •< 10.5 

Carbonic acid I ( 22.6 

Proto.xide of iron ) ri u <• ■ m o i 7.3 

r, I ■ -J > Carb. of iron, 10,2 < 

Cai oonic acid . . . ) ' ( 2.9 

Silica 11.8 

Moisture 2.9 

100.0 
METALLURGIC TREATMENT AND USES. 

Zinc ores are ajiplied to practical pur- 
poses, not only to produce the metal, but also 
the white oxide of zinc, which is consider- 
ably used as a paint. The ancients used an 
ore they called lapis calaminaris, to make 
brass, by melting it with copper in cruci- 
bles, not knowing that another metal was 
thus formed which produced an alloy with 
the copper. Although the metal was dis- 
covered in the IGth century, the nature of 
its ores was little known before the middle 
of the last century. It is now prepared 
upon a large scale in Belgium and Silesia, 
and small quantities are produced in Eng- 
land, France, and difierent parts of Ger- 
many. The simple method of obtaining 
zinc from its ores, called distillation per de- 
scensiim, was introduced into England about 
the year 1740, and was derived from the 
Chinese, who appear to have been acquainted 
with the metal long before it was known to 
the Europeans. As now practised in Great 
Britain, the ores are first calcined, the effect 
of which is to expel a portion of the water, 
carbonic acid, and sulphur they contain. 
They are then ground to powder, and mixed 
with fine charcoal, or mineral coal, and in- 
troduced into stationary earthen pots, or 
crucibles. When set in the furnace, an iron 
pipe, passing up through the bottom of the 
hearth, enters the crucible, and connects 
with an open vessel directly beneath. About 
six pots are set together under a low dome J 
of brick-work, through which apertures are M 
left for filling them. Each one has a cover, 
which is luted down with fire clay ; and the 
iron tube in each is stopped with a wooden 
plug,which, as the operation goes on, becomes 
charred and porous, so as to admit through it 
the passage of the zinc vapors. The tubes 
are prevented from being clogged with de- 
positions of the condensed zinc, by occa- 
sionally running a rod through them from 
the lower end. The zinc collects in the 
dishes under the tubes, in the form of drops 
and powder, a portion of which is oxidized. 
The whole is transferred to melting-pots, 



ZINC. 



99 



and the oxide which swims upon the sur- 
face of the melted metal is skimmed off and 
returned to the reducing crucibles, while 
the metal is run into moulds. The ingots 
are known in commerce as spelter. 

In the United States zinc was first made 
by Mr. John Hitz, under the direction of 
Mr. IJassler, who, by order of Congress, 
was engaged about the year 1838 to manu- 
facture standard weights and measures for 
the cus!K>m-houses. The work was done at 
the U. S. arsenal at Washington, the ores 
used being the red oxide of New Jersc}'. The 
expense exceeded the value of the metal ob- 
tained, and it has generally been supposed 
that we could not produce spelter so che.aply 
as it can be imported from Europe. The 
next experiments were made at the works of 
the New Jersey Zinc Company, 1850, on the 
Belgian plan. In these great difficulties were 
experienced for want of retorts of suffi- 
ciently refractory character to withstand the 
high temperature and the chemical action of 
the constituents of the ore. The franklin- 
ite, which always accompanies the red ox- 
ide ores, was particularly injurious by rea- 
son of the oxide of iron forming a fusible 
silicate with the substance of the retorts 
These trials consequently failed after the 
expenditure of large sums of mone}'. The 
next important trial was made in 1856, by a 
Mr. lloofstettcr, who built a Silesian furnace 
of 20 muffles for the Pennsylvania and Le- 
high Zinc Company at their mine near 
Friedensville. This proved a total failure, 
and seemed almost to establish the impracti- 
cability of producing spelter with the Amer- 
ican ores, clays, and anthracite. About this 
time Mr. Joseph Wharton, the general man- 
ager of the Pennsylvania and Lehigh Zinc 
Company, and Mr. Samuel Wetherill, of 
Bethlehem, both hit upon the same plan of 
treating zinc ores in an open furnace, and 
leading the volatile products through incan- 
descent coal, in order to reduce the zinc ox- 
ide so formed, and draw only metallic and 
carbonaceous vapors into the condensing 
apparatus. Mr. Wharton constructed his 
furnace in Philadelphia, and Mr. Wetherill 
his in Bethlehem. The former having com- 
pleted his trials, filed a caveat for the proc- 
ess, but soon after abandoned it as econom- 
ically impracticable. The latter continued 
his operations, patented the method, and 
produced some zinc, eight or ten tons of 
which were sold to the U. S. Assay Ofiice 
in New York. The manufacture was not, 



however, long continued. In 1858, Mr. 
Wetherill recommenced the production of 
zinc, adopting a plan of uprirrht retorts, 
somewhat like that in use in Carinthia, in 
Austria, and that of the English patent of 
James Graham. Mr. Wetherill had suc- 
ceeded in procuring good mixtures of fire 
clays, and his retorts made of these and 
holding each a charge of 400 lbs. of ore, 
proved sufficiently refractory for the opera- 
tion. The works now under his charge at 
Bethlehem, erected in 1858-9, and belong- 
ing to the owners of the Saucon mine, have 
a cap.acity of about two tons of metal daily. 

Mr. Wharton, after abandoning the 
method of reduction by incandescent coals, 
continued his experiments on different plans, 
and finally decided on the Belgian furnace 
as tlie best, after having actually made spel- 
ter fi'om silicate of zinc, with anthracite, in 
muffles of American clays, at a cost below 
its market value. These trials were made in 
the zinc oxide works of the Pennsylvania 
and Lehigh Zinc Company. Their success 
encouraged the company to construct a fac- 
tory at Bethlehem for reducing zinc ores, 
and this was done under the direction of 
Mr. Wharton in 1860. The capacity of 
the works is about 2000 tons per annum, 
and their actual daily product in the winter 
of 1860-1, is over three tons. Four stacks 
or blocks are constructed, each containing 
four furnaces. To each furnace there are 
jG retorts, making in all 896, working two 
charges in twenty-four hours. Their total 
capacity is about five tons of metal. Be- 
sides the ordinary spelter of this manufac- 
ture, which, as will be seen by the remarks 
that follow, is remarkable for its freedom from 
injurious mixtures, and is the best commer- 
cial zinc in the world, Mr. Wharton also 
prepares from selected ores a pure zinc 
for the use of chemists, and for purposes in 
which a high degree of purity is essential. 
This is cast in ingots of about nine pounds 
each, and is sold at the price of ten cents 
per pound. For the supply of chemists, and 
for the batteries employed by the telegraph 
companies, the American zinc of this manu- 
facture is preferred to all others. The total 
annual consumption of crude spelter in the 
United States amounts to the value of about 
$600,000 ; and the value of sheet zinc, nails, 
etc., is about as much more. 

The commercial zincs, it has long been 
known, are contaminated by various foreign 
substances, the existence of some of which 



L ofC. 



100 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



is indicated in the finely divided Uadi. sub- 
stance vvhicli remains floating or sinking in 
the liquid, when the metal is dissolved in 
dilute acids. The impurities have been 
stated by different chemists to consist of a 
great variety of substances, such as lead, 
cadmium, arsenic, tin, iron, manganese, car- 
bon, etc. The}' injuriously affect the quality 
of the metal for many of its uses ; and the 
presence of one of them, arsenic, is fatal to 
the highly important use of zinc by chemists, 
as a reagent in the detection of arsenic in 
other substances. Arsenic in the form of a 
sulphuret often accompanies tlie native sul- 
phurets of zinc, and its oxide, being volatile, 
is readily carried over with the zinc fumes 
in the metallurgic treatment of blende, and 
may thus bo introduced into the spelter. It is 
evidently, therefore, a matter of consequence 
to know the qualities of the different zincs 
of commerce, and the e.xact nature of the 
impurities they contain. Very thorough in- 
vestigations having these objects in view 
have recentlv been made in Cambridge, 
Massachusetts, by Messrs. Charles W. Eliot 
and Frank II. Storer of Boston, and tlie re- 
sults of these, with a full description of their 
methods of examination, were communicated, 
May 29, 1860, to the American Academy 
of Arts and Sciences, and published in the 
eighth volume of the new series of their 
Memoirs. Eleven varieties of zinc from dif- 
ferent parts of Europe, and made from the 
ores of New Jerse_v, and of the Saucon val- 
ley, Pennsylvania, were experimented upon, 
of all of which large samples were at hand. 
These varieties were the following: 1, Sile- 
sian zinc; 2, Vieille Montague zinc; 3, New 
Jersey zinc ; 4, Pennsylvanian zinc, Beth- 
lehem, Pennsylvania ; 5, Vieille Montague 
zinc, employed at the Uniteil States mint, 
Philadelphia; 6, zinc of MM. liousscau, 
Freres, Paris, labelled and sold as zinc pur ; 
7, sheet zinc obtained in Berlin, I'russia; 8, 
zinc made near Wrexham, North Wales; 9, 
zinc from the Mines Royal, Neath, S(juth 
Wales ; 10, zinc from the works of Dillwyn 
& Co., Swansea, South Wales; 11, zinc 
from the works of Messrs. Vivian, Swansea. 
All of these, except the Pennsylvania zinc, 
furnished an insoluble residue, which was 
found to consist chiefly of metallic lead, and 
this proved to be the principal impurity of 
all the samples examined; "the carbon, tin, 
copper, iron, arsenic, and other impurities 
found in the metal by previous observers, 
occur either in very minute quantities, or 



rarely, and doubtless accidentally." The 
proportions of load present in 100 parts of 
each of the varieties examined were respect- 
ively as follows : in No. 1, 1.46 ; 2, 0.292 ; 
3,0.079; 4,0.000; 5,0.494; 6,0.106; 7, 
1.297; 8,1.192; 9,0.823; 10,1.661; 11, 
1.516. The New Jersey zinc was found to 
contain a sensible quantity of tin, copper 
amounting to 0.1298 per cent., iron 0.2088 
per cent., and an unusually large amount of 
arsenic. Traces of this were also detected 
in the wdiite oxide prepared from the ores 
of the New Jer:3ey mines, and in the red 
oxide ore itself; but the same ore aftbrded 
no clue as to the source whence the copper 
was derived, a metal of which not the slight- 
est traces were discoverable in the other 
zincs. None of the samples contained suf- 
ficient arsenic to admit of its proportion be- 
ing determined, and some were entirely free 
from it, as some of the Belgian and Pennsyl- 
vania spelter, but traces of it were mot with 
in other samples from the same regions, in- 
dicating that the occasional use of inferior 
ores, such as blende, intermixed with the 
carbonates and silicates, might introduce 
this substance, or possibly it might come 
over only in tlie first part of the distillation, 
and the zinc collected in the latter part 
might be quite free from it. The Silesian 
zinc contained minute (luantities of sulphur 
and arsenic ; and the English zinc more ar- 
senic than any other, except perhaps the 
New Jersey. The purest of all the samples 
was that from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, 
some of it yielding no impurity, except a 
trace of cadmium. The source of a trace 
of arsenic in another sample is supposed to 
bo in the use of the crust of oxide of zinc 
from the operations connected with the 
manufacture of white oxide of zinc, no par- 
ticular care being taken in that process to 
reject inferior ores, and this crust being 
taken to the other works where the metal is 
prepared and mi.xcd with the selected ores 
employed for this use, it has thus introduced 
the arsenic. As the authors of the paper 
remark, there seems to be no reason why 
zinc of uniform purity should not bo ob- 
tained from the excellent ores of the Saucoa 
valley mines. 

EUROPEAN MANUFACTURE. 

A large portion of the zinc of commerce 
is furnished by the works of the Vieille 
Montague Company, established near the 
frontier of Belgium and Prussia, chiefly in 



101 



the province of Liege of the former country. 
A large number of mines are worked in this 
region, the most important of which is that 
of the Vieille Montagne or Altcnberg, sit- 
uated in the village of Moresnet, between 
Aix-la-Chapelle and the town of Liege. It 
is said that the great body of carbonate of 
zinc found here was worked as long ago as 
the year 1435, and that for four centuries it 
was not known that the ore was of metallic 
character, but it was used as a peculiar earth 
adapted for converting copper into brass. 
The ore lies in a basin-like depression in 
strata of magnesian limestone, and is much 
mixed with beds of clay intercalated among 
its layers. The ore is chiefly carbonate 
mixed with the silicate and oxide of zinc. 
Some of it is red, from the oxide of iron in- 
termixed, and this produces only about 3.3 
per cent, of metal. The purer white ore 
yields about 46 per cent., and is moreover 
much preferred on account of its working 
better in the retorts. The furnaces em- 
ployed in the distillation of these ores are 
constructed upon a very large scale, and on 
a ditferent plan from those in use in Great 
Britain. The general character of the oper- 
ations, however, is the same. The ores are 
first calcined, losing about one fifth of their 
weight. They are then ground in mills, and 
charges are made up of 1100 lbs. of the 
powdered ore mixed with 550 lbs. of fine 
coal. The mixture being well moistened 
with water, is introduced into cylindrical re- 
torts, which are three feet 8 inches long 
and 6 inches diameter inside, set inclining 
outward, to the number of 42 in a single 
furnace, and 4 suoli furnaces are construrted 
in one stack. The open end of each retort 
connects, by means of an iron adapter 16 
inches long, with a wrought-iron cone, the 
little end of which, projecting out from the 
furnace, is only an inch in diameter. After 
the charges have been sufficiently heated, 
the sublimed zinc condenses in tlie neck of 
the retort and in the adapter and cone. The 
last two are then removed, and the zinc and 
oxide are collected from them, and the liq- 
uid metal in the neck of the retorts is 
drawn out and caught in a large ladle, from 
which it is poured into moulds. The zinc 
thus obtained is remelted before it is rolled. 
Two charges are run through in twenty-four 
hours, each furnace producing from 2200 lbs. 
of ore about 620 lbs. of metal, which is 
about 30 per cent. From a late report of 
these operations it appears that there are 



seven large smelting establishments belong- 
ing to the Vieille Montagne Zinc Mining 
Company, on the borders of Belgium and 
Prussia, comprising 230 furnaces. The an- 
nual product of these is 29,000 tons of spel- 
ter, of which 23,000 tons are converted into 
sheet zinc, and about 7000 tons are rolled at 
mills not the property of the companv. They 
also manufacture oxide of zinc in three es- 
tablishments devoted to this operation, to 
the amount of about 6000 tons annually. The 
company also purchases spelter very larg-ely. 
The metallurgy of zinc has, within a few 
3'ears past, become an important branch of 
industry in Upper Silesia on the borders of 
Poland, and not far from Cracow. In 1 857 
there were no less than 47 zinc works in this 
part of Prussia, one of which, named Lydog- 
niahiitte, at Konigshiitte, belonged to the 
government, and the remainder were owned 
by private companies and individuals. In 
that year their total production was 31,480 
tons of spelter, valued at about 17,660,000 
francs. Many of the establishments belong 
to the Silesian Company, which also owns 
several coal mines near their works, and a 
number of zinc mines. The government 
works are supplied with ores from their own 
mines, and also from all the others, being 
entitled to one twentieth of their product. 
From a description of the operations pub- 
lished in the sixteentli volume of the Aiii,alis 
dis Mines, fifth series, 1859, it appears that 
the processes are the same which had been 
emploved for full twenty years previouslv, 
and each establishment presents little else 
than a repetition of the works of the others. 
The furnace in use is a double stack, fur- 
nished along each side with horizontal ovens, 
into each of which three muffles or retorts 
are introduced. These are constructed of 
refractory fire clays, and are charged, like 
the retorts of gas furnaces, by conveying the 
material upon a long charger or spoon into 
the interior. Their dimensions are about 4 
feet long, 22 inches high, and 84 inches wide, 
and the weight of the charge introduced is 
only about 55 pounds. The ovens on each 
side of the stacks contain as many as 2U and 
sometimes 30 retorts. The same stack con- 
tains besides, 1st, an oven in which the ores 
belonging to it are roasted for expelling the 
water and a portion of the carbonic acid they 
contain (a process in which they lose about 
i their weight) ; 2d, an oven for baking the 
retorts, each establishment making its own ; 
and 3d, a furnace for remelting and purifying 



102 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



the zinc obtained from, tlie retorts. Several 
stacks are arranged in a large building with 
close walls and open along the top of the 
roof to allow the smoke to escape. On one 
side, ciinnectcd with it, are the workshops 
in which the muffles are made and various 
other operations are carried on. 

The principal zinc mines are in the vicin- 
ity of Licuthen, and are f lund in the magne- 
sian limestones of tlie new red sandstone 
f»rmation. They are connected with the 
zinc works, which are principally near Ko- 
nigshlittc, by branch railroads connecting 
with the principal line of road between 
Tarnowitz and Kattowitz. The ores are 
chiefly carbonates, always mixed with much 
oxide of iron, which is sometimes present to 
the extent of 20 per cent., and with them is 
also associated more or less silicate of zinc, 
blende, galena, and cadmium. Their per- 
centage of zinc is very variable, rarely reach- 
ing 35, and probably averaging 21 or 22 per 
cent. Much that is worked does not exceed 
12 per cent. They lie in irregular deposits, 
and it is found that their yield of zinc has 
been gradually falling oil', so that it is now 
only about two fifths of what it was formerly. 
This low yield involves a large consumption 
of fuel, which is 20 tons for one of zinc ob- 
tained ; and if this deterioration continues, 
the mines must some time hence be aban- 
doned. The coal employed in working the 
ores is of poor quality, burning without 
flame ; but it leaves no cinder, and is pro- 
cured from mines very near the works, and 
at the extraordinary low price of 6 to 7 
francs the lUOO kilogrammes (about one ton). 
The retorts are charged every 24 hours with 
roasted ore reduced to the size of nuts, and 



mixed with oxide of zinc from previous op- 
erations, with the dross from the crucible 
employed in remelting, with the incrustations 
from the muffles and their connections out- 
side the furnaces, and in fine with cinders 
that liave fallen through the grates, these last 
making about J the bulk of the charge. 
The workmen having discharged a muffle of 
the liquid zinc and oxide remaining from the 
previous operation by draw ing them forward, 
so that they fall upon an iron shelf placed 
below to catch them, and having repaired 
any cracks and holes in the muffle, they in- 
troduce the new charge in small portions at a 
time, and immediately adjust the outer con- 
nection, which is also of earthenware bent 
down at a right angle, and close up the 
openings in front. The zinc soon begins to 
distil over, and drops down upon the iron 
shelf, forming pieces of all shapes ; and it is 
more or less mixed with oxide colored yel- 
low by the oxide of cadmium. When re- 
melted and run into moulds, the spelter is 
^tated to have about the following composi- 
tion : zinc, 97.50, cadmium, 1.00, lead, 0.20, 
arsenic, 0.84, sulphur, 0.05, together with 
traces of tin, iron, and carbon ; but the char- 
acter and proportion of the impurities are 
probably very variable. The expenses of 
the manufacture at the royal works amount- 
ed for the year 1856 to 48.00 francs the 
metrical quintal (220.4T lbs.), and in 1858 
to 54.84 francs ; consisting in the latter 
year of the following items : ore, 26.84 ; 
fuel, 14.30; labor, 7.00; materials employ- 
ed. 3.70 ; general expenses, 3.00. The oper- 
ations of the Silesian Company at their 
several works for the first half of the year 
1858 are thus presented : — 



COST OF THE SEVERAL ITEMS PER 

Zinc 

Name of Worlcs. Ores treated, obtained. 

Met. quint. Met. quint. 

Gabor Silesia 112,^99 19,703 

PauLsliiitte 40,'iS4 4,928 

Tliurzoliiitte 37,458 4,495 

Frieaunsliiitte 15,345 2,346 

Slanisla.sliutte 40.534 3,978 

Carlsliiitte 45,918 5,723 

292,438 41,173 

The general consumption of spelter 
throughout the world is estimated in the 
report to which we have already referred, re- 
lating to the Vieille Montague Company, 
to be about 67,000 tons, of which about 
44,000 tons are sheet zinc applied as fol- 
lows : — 



METRICAL 


QUINTAL 


or, PRODUCT. 




(n.^t of 






Sundry 




lalHir. 


Fuel. 


Ores. 


expi-nsea. 


Totjil cost. 


Friines. 


Fn\ncs. 


Francs. 


Frnnes. 


Fianes. 


4. IIS 


10.35 


11.40 


4.27 


31.00 


7.10 


14 69 


14.24 


4.77 


40 80 


7.57 


12 08 


12.92 


4.90 


37.47 


5.9G 


10.66 


13.98 


4.62 


35.22 


8.83 


16.18 


15.66 


6.23 


46.90 


15.06 


14.80 


13.23 


6.91 


41.00 



Tons. 

For roofing and architectural purposes 23,000 

" sheathing of ships 3,500 

" lining packing cases 2,500 

" domestic utensils 12,000 

" stamped ornaments 1,500 

" miscellaneous uses 1,500 

44,000 



103 



Tlie estimate of 67,000 tons as the total 
annual production of zinc is probal)ly too 
small for Europe alone. Taking the product 
above given of the works of the Vieille Mon- 
tague Company, viz., 1^9,000 ton?, and that 
of the Silesian furnaces, 31,480 tons, there 
remain only 6,520 tons to be divided among 
the other zinc-producing countries. These 
arc Poland, on the borders of Silesia, the 
annual production of which is usually given 
as 4000 tons ; England, whicli has rapidly 
advanced from 1000 tons of spelter per an- 
num to 6900 tons in 1 S5S ; Austria, which 
produces 1500 tons; Sweden, 40tons; and the 
Hartz 10 tons. Zinc, it is believed, is also 
manufactured to some extent in Spain. The 
European production would, therefore, seem 
to exceed 73,000 tons, and for the total 
production of the world, that of the United 
States and of China should be added. Of 
the extent of the manufacture of the latter 
country we know nothing. The United 
States p'-oduccs of oxide of zinc and spelter 
over 7 'lOO ton'.nnd itnnort^l "2.000, annually. 

The value of the ores at ditTerent costs of 
the metal is given in the following recently 
prepared table from one of the European 
houses : — • 

SCHEDULE OF THE COST OF ZINC ORE ON SHIPBOARD AT 

ANTWEKP. 

CARBONATE OF ZINC. 

«, ♦„! „ ...I, KA f „ ,1 „ Met.nl wfirth Metal worth 60 

Metal worth M fmncs the . , ,. ^ - . , ^^ 

100 k,logra,„.nes. ki,„gr.anunes. kil...-.-,mimes. 

Percentase V;ilne of 100 Value of 100 Value of 100 

of zinc by kilniTatnines. kilosranimes. kilosrnnimes. 

•calvsis. Francs. Francs. Francs. 

ib SO 00 94.50 lli;i 00 

45 lO'i.SO llO.aO IMU.oO 

50 1-J5.00 144.50 10400 

55 147.50 1G0.50 Ifll.oO 

60 no.no 194, 50 210,00 

65 192.50 219.50 24G.50 

■JO 215.00 244.50 '274.00 

SILICATE OF ZINC. 

40 45.00 57.00 69.00 

45 67.50 82.00 9G.50 

50 90.00 107.00 124,00 

55 112.50 132.00 151.50 

60 135.00 157.00 179.00 

65 157 50 182.00 206.50 

70 180.00 207.00 234 00 

A kilogramme is equivalent to 2205 lbs 
avoirdupois. 

Twentv-live years ago the qiiiintity of zinc 
used for rooting did not exceed 5,000 tons 
per annum, and no zinc was employed for 
sheathing ships, or lining packing cases. 
The stamped ornaments in this metal only 
came into use in 1852. In Germany zinc is 
now very generally used for roofing ; and in 
Paris it has been employed for nearly every 



roof constructed during the last twenty-five 
years. In laying the sheets great care is 
taken that the metal has sufficient room to 
expand and contract by change of tempera- 
ture ; and especially ihat it is fastened with 
zinc nails, and is allowed to come nowhere 
in contact with iron— even with nail heads. 
The purer the metal the longer it lasts. 

Besides the uses named for this met.al, it 
is em;iloyed for coating sheet iron, making 
what is called galvanized iron ; for pipes for 
conveying liquids: for baths, water-tanks, 
mi'.k-pans and pails, plates for engraving ; 
for galvanic batteries ; for nails, spikes, and 
wire; for signs ; music printing; and for the 
cornices of buildings. It has also been cast 
into statues, in imitation of bronze. The 
Vieille Montague Company sent to the Great 
Exhib tiou in London a statue of Queen Vic- 
toria, which with its pedestal of zinc was 
twenty-one feel high. By a process some- 
what like lithography, called Zincography, 
drawings, old engravings, and autograph let- 
ters are transferred to it, and afer treatment 
with acids, printed from a raised surface. A 
ui.diticationof this process called Photozinc- 
o_n-ai)hy, accom|ilishes the difficult ta-k of 
printing fVom a photograph. Zinc is also an 
important reagent in chemic-d operations, 
and is employed with sulphuric acid to de- 
compose \vat«r for obtaining hydrogen gas. 

ZIXC PAINT. 

White oxide of zinc was first recom- 
mended as a substitute for white lead by 
the celebrated Guyton de Morveau about 
the close of the last century, during his in- 
vestigations on the subject of lead poison- 
ing ; and to him it was suggested by Cour- 
tois, a manufacturer at Dijon. The liigh 
price of zinc at that time, and ignorance 
respecting the proper manner of using the 
oxide of zinc, prevented its introduction. 
It was many years after this that methods of 
producing it as cheaply as white lead were 
devised by M. Leclaire, a house-painter of 
Paris ; and he also first prepared to use with 
it a scries of yellow and green unchangeable 
colors, to replace those before in use having 
noxious bases of lead, copper, or arsenic ; 
and also a drying oil, prepared by boiling 
linseed oil with about five per cent, of oxide 
of manganese. His process, which is still 
the one in general use in Europe, is based 

I on the treatment of the metal instead of the 
ore, as practised in this country, and scarcely 

I any white oxide of zinc is there made by 



104 



MINING IXOrSTRV OF THE UNITED STATES. 



any other method. The furnaces employed 
are similar to tliose for producing the metal, 
or like those of the gas works. When the 
retorts set in these furnaces have become 
very hot, they are charged witli the ingots 
of zinc. The metal soon melts, and its 
vapor passes off through the outlets of the 
retorts, where it meets a current of air, and 
'both together are drawn on through the 
condensing apparatus either by the drauglit 
of a chimney, or by an exhausting fan at the 
further extremity of the apparatus. The 
metallic vapors become oxidized by mixing 
with the air, and are converted into a light, 
flaky, white powder, which is the oxide of 
zinc. The arrangements for condensing 
and collecting this are similar in principle 
to those employed for the same ])urj)uses in 
the American process. By making use of 
the metal in retorts, instead of subliming it 
from ores contaminated with their own im- 
purities, and mixed with the coal required 
for conducting the process, a much purer 
oxide of zinc is obtained ; and by selecting 
the purest sorts of spelter, the beautiful 
article, called by the French blanc dc iieiije, 
or " snow-white," is produced, which is 
employed by painters in the place of the 
" silver-white." With the use of other zinc, 
the product is fit to be substituted for the 
best white lead. JJut if the metal has been 
made from ores containing cadmium or iron, 
or if old zinc has been introduced to which 
any solder adheres, according to the French 
chemists oxides of other metals are pro- 
duced, and are taken up in small quantities 
with the zinc vapors, imparting to the oxide 
a slightly yellow or greenisli tint, which if 
not very decided may liowevcr disappear 
when the paint is mixed ; but the expe 
rience of American manufacturers does not 
accord with tliis explanaticm. 

The manufacture of white oxide of zinc 
direct from the ore is a purely American 
process, established by the experiments of 
Mr. Richard Jones of rhiladelphia in the 
year 1850. The great bodies of the rich 
ores of northern New Jersey had at various 
times, for the past two centuries, attracted 
the attention of many persons interested in 
metallurgical operations ; and of late years 
numerous attempts had been made to devise 
some method of converting them to useful 
purposes. Zinc, however, was a metal not 
much in demand, and nothing was known 
of the useful qualities of the white oxide. 
When tlie value of this had been demon- 



strated in Europe, and the practicability of 
producing it economically from the red 
oxide was shown, a company was organized 
in New York under the name of the New 
Jersey Zinc Companj", for the purpose of 
carrying on this manufacture up<in a large 
scale. This association was incorporated by 
the Legislature of New Jersey, February 
15, 1849, and the report of their operations, 
made December 31, 1853, by their presi- 
dent, C. E. Detmold, Esq., showed a pro- 
duction, for 1852, of 2,425,506 lbs. of oxide; 
and for 1853, of 4,043,415 lbs.; and the 
total production for 10 years, ending with 
18(i0, has amounted to above 19,500 tons. 
Their works were established at Newark, N. 
J., to which place the ores are brought by 
the Morris and Essex canal ; and the an- 
thracite consumed in the manufacture is 
also delivered by water transportation. The 
company has forty furnaces, that may be 
kept in constant operation. The character 
of the process is like that which will be 
given below, as conducted by the Passaic 
Mining and Manufacturing Company. 

The success of the enterprise of the New 
Jersey Zinc Company, and the discovery in 
1853 of the great beds of silicate and car- 
bonate of zinc in the Saucon valley, Penn- 
sylvania, led to the organization in that year 
of the Pennsylvania and Lehigh Zinc Corn- 
pan}', and the erection of furnaces for mak- 
ing the oxide at Bethlehem, on the Leliigh 
river. The operations were conducted by 
Samuel Wetherill, Esq., b}' a patented piroc- 
css of his own invention, and at a contract 
price of $50 per ton ; the ore being deliv- 
e.ed by the company at the works for Sl-oO 
])er ton. About four tons were consumed to 
the ton of oxide. The company mined up 
to January, 18C0, about 00,000 tons of ore, 
and at that time, were manufacturing about 
3"_'0,000 1I)S. of oxide of zinc per month. 

A third company was established in 18.")5, 
called the Passaic Mining and Manufactur- 
ing Comp.any, and their works, constructed 
at Connuunipaw, on tlie Morris canal mar 
Jersey City, went into operation in June of 
that year. They obtained their ores both 
t'rom the mines of red oxide in Sussex 
ct)unty, and from the Saucon valley mines in 
Pennsylvania. They employed 24 furnaces, 
built in 3 stacks, of 8 each, in which they 
were arranged like ovens, half of them open- 
ing on one side and half on the opposite 
side. Each one was about 6 feet in depth 
(from front to back), 4 feet in width, and 



ZINC. 



105 



about 3^ feet in height. The roof was arch- 
ed, with an opening through it for the pipe 
which conveyed away the vapor and products 
of combustion. The sole was formed of cast- 
iron plates, which were perforated full of small 
holes for admitting the blast to penetrate 
every portion of the charge, as the wind was 
driven by two large fan-blowers into the re- 
ceptacle under the furnace corresponding to 
the ash-pit. The ores were prepared by lirst 
crushing them to powder, wliicli was done by 
passing them through two pairs of Cornish 
rolls, and then mixing them thoroughly with 
about half their weight of tiie dust of anthra- 
cite. A Are was kindled upon the grate-bars 
of 250 lbs. of pea coal, and when ignited to 
full whiteness the charge of 600 lbs. of ore, 
mixed with 300 of coal dust, was added, and 
when exhausted the charge was withdrawn, 
leaving only suiTicient coal to ignite the next 
charge, thus working off 4 charges in every 
24 hours. The proportion of oxide obtained 
from the ore was variable, as the charge was 
not of uniform quality ; but it was usually 
between 30 and 40 per cent. As the coal 
rapidly consumed from the effect of the blast, 
the ores were decomposed, and metallic zinc 
sublimed. The vapor rose with the gaseous 
products of combustion, and all were carried 
up the pipe, which just above the roof of 
the stack terminate under an inverted fun- 
nel, the base of which covered the lower pipe 
like a hood, and the upper portion was a 
pipe like tiiat below. A strong current of 
air was created by two exhausting fan- 
blowers, at the other extremity of the ap- 
paratus, and the vapors were drawn up to- 
gether with much air which flowed in around 
the open base of the funnel, and caused at 
this point a vivid combustion of the zinc 
vapors, which burned with a j)ale blue flame, 
and were thus converted into oxide. The 
appearance presented by this combustion 
actively going on in full view under each 
hood was very striking, and was far from 
suggesting to an observer unacquainted with 
the process, the possibility tiiat from the 
pale flames rushing up the pipes any valua- 
ble product could be recovered. The pipes 
connected above with a cylindrical sheet-iron 
receiver that extended over the three stacks, 
so as to secure the products of all the fur- 
naces. It was a huge pijjc, C.| feet in diam- 
eter, and 130 feet long, and passed along 
under the roof, against a line of windows on 
.each side, through which air was admitted 
for hastening the cooling of the products. 



The pipe discharged into a square tower in 
masonry, and in this the particles were 
washed and cooled by a continual falling 
sheet of water. The light flocculent oxide 
of zinc was not carried down bj* this to any 
great extent, but was drawn on by the ex- 
haust through 3 large pipes to a second tower 
with three divisions, in which the fens were, 
placed that created the draught. From this 
the current, still propelled by the fans, moved 
on through other pipes that connected with 
the system of flannel bags, which in great 
numbers, and of extraordinary sizes, were sus- 
pended throughout the portion of the build- 
ing devoted to the final cooling of the oxide, 
and filtering it from the gaseous matters inter- 
mixed. Some of the bags extended the whole 
length of the rooms, which were 120 feet 
long by 64 wide, and the diameter of the larg- 
est of them was over 4 feet. They were ar- 
ranged near together, and some were carried 
vertically from the horizontal ones up to the 
roof Through the pores of the flannel the 
gases escaped, and the oxide of zinc remained 
thoroughly purified. Nearly 200,000 square 
feet of flannel were worked into these bags ; 
and one person was almost constantly em- 
ployed with a sewing machine, and two others 
working by hand, in making and repairing 
them. Along the under side of the horizontal 
bags pipes of cotton cloth, ten or twelve inches 
in diameter, reached down nearly to the floor, 
and were kept tied around their lower ends. 
These were called the teats ; and the oxide of 
zinc was collected by lifting up the portions 
of the bags where it had settled, and shaking 
the.-e so as to make it fall into the teats. The 
ends of these were then opened, and the 
white zinc was received in strong bags, 
which being tied up were laid upon a truck, 
and this was run by steam power back and 
forth under a compressing roller. The air 
dispersed through it, rendering it so light 
and bulky, was thus expelled, and the oxide 
was converted into a dense, heavy powder. 
The last process was to grind this with 
bleached linseed oil, which was done in the 
ordinary paint mills. The paint was then 
transferred into small kegs for the market. 

The residuum of the furnace charge, when 
of red oxide, consisted of some unsublimed 
zinc ore mixed with franklinite and more or 
less unconsumed coal. It w'as raked out in 
the form of slags, and accumulated in immense 
piles about the works. In 1853, Mr. Detmold 
succeeded in using this as an iron ore, and pro- 
duced excellent iron which proved to be also 



106 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



well adapted for the manufacture of steel. 
The iron manufacture has been continued, and 
lias become a profitable branch of the opera- 
tions of the United States Zinc Company, pro- 
ducing about 20i'0 tons of zinc per annum. 
The franklinite itself had been used a year ear- 
lier for the same purposes by Mr. Edwin Post, 
at i^tanhope, and from this he obtained both 
iron and steel ; but when the manufacture 
was undertaken upon a large scale by the 
New Jersey Franklinite Company, at Frank- 
lin, New Jersey, it proved unsuccessful in 
practice. 

The product of the zinc works of the Pas- 
saic Company for the year 1856, was 2,327,- 
9-0 lbs. of oxide of zinc; and the monthly 
piotlu('ton for the year 18G0 was about 
40(MH)U lbs. from IG furnaces. With the "^4 
in blast their monthly capacity was from 2S0 
to 300 tons of 2 000 lbs. to the ton. The 
total annual product of the three establish- 
ments was from GOdO to 7000 tons of oxide. 
For a few years the zinc paints were jiopu- 
lar, and made considerable inroads upon the 
market for white lead ; but the general ver- 
dict of intelligent and skilful painters i? that 
they are inferior to the lead both in bo<ly 
and permanency, and their sale has fallen oli' 
at least nine-tenths since 186J. 

The rale of the importations of zinc, spelter 
and manufactures of zinc, wiih the re-exports 
of the same from 1859 to 1»70, both in- 
clusive, were : 

Importeil. Re-exported. 

18."i9 Sl,3.'!3,112 814,912 

1860 80t,.353 2|->,.-)S3 

ISGl .5911,280 19,100 

1862 254,033 .'•63 

1863 518,149 '',681 

1864 675,931 3,973 

1865 .'(51,876 47,790 

1866 1,149,>-!I5 38,108 

1867 56-J,902 3,174 

1868 561,633 18,028 

ls69 1,197,682 4,022 

1870 1,003,432 833 

The importance of the application of white 
zinc to painting in the place of white lead 
appears to have been much more fiillv appre- 
ciated in France and the United States than in 
Great Britain. Soon after the discoveries of 
Lcclaire that white oxide of zinc could be 
thus used, and produce, with the colored 
bases he prepared of this and other iiniocu- 
ous oxides, all the tints required, the French 
gnvernment, recognizing the importance of 
his inventions, conferred upon him the cross 
of the Legion of Honor, and ailopted the 
paints for the public building.s. By the year 



1849, over 6000 public and private build- 
ings had been painted with ids prepara- 
tions, and the testimony was very strong in 
their favor. Not one of his workmen had 
been attacked by the painter's colic, though 
previously a dozen or more suffered every 
3'ear from it. The colors were pronounced 
more solid and durable than the old, were 
made brighter by washing, and were not tar- 
nished by sulphuretted hydrogen, as occurs 
to white lead. The best white paint was 
moreover so pure and brilliant a white, that 
it made the best white lead paint by its side 
look disagreeably yellow and gray. No dif- 
ficulty was experienced in making the new 
colors, mixed with the prepared oil, dry 
rapidly without the use of the ordinary dryers 
of lead compound ; and used in equal weight 
with le.ad, the zinc was found to cover bet- 
ter, and was, consequently, more economical 
at equal prices per lb. The English, how- 
ever, fountl many objectionable qualities in 
the new paint. Its transparency, which is 
the cause of its brilliancy, by reflecting in- 
stead of absorbing the light, was regarded as 
a defect, and the painters complained that it 
had not the body or covering properties of 
the carbonate of lead. It would not dry 
rapidly for the second coat without the use 
of the p.atent dryers, which contain lead, and 
therefore it was no better than the lead. 
Messrs. Coates & Co., who now import into 
Great Britain about 1000 tons of oxide of 
zinc per annum, wrote to the editor of the 
Lancet in March, 1 860, that the consumption 
of white lead is still nearly 100 to 1 of white 
zinc, and tliat in 1856 the importation of the 
latter amounted to only 235 tons. They as- 
cribe the real cause of tiie larger consumption 
of white lead, to the almost entire exclusion of 
zinc, to the fact, that white lead can be adul- 
terated with b;irvtes and f)ther cheap ingre- 
dients without the adulteration beingdetected 
by the eye, thus securing large profits to the 
manufacturer and contractor, which cannot 
be realized in the use of zinc paint, for the 
reason that it has little afiinity for foreign sub- 
stances. The experience of the manufacturers 
of the United States docs not substantiate 
this statement as to the difficulty of using the 
oxide of zinc in mixture with other substances. 
It is etnploye<l not only alone, but mixed 
with either barytes or white lead, or with 
both of them; and large quantities are thus 
sold and give satisfaction to consumer.s, who 
would reject the paint, if they supposed it to 
be any thing else than white lead. As to its 



PLATINUSt 



101 



covering quality, it is found that the oxide of 
zinc varies according to the manner in which 
it has been prepared. The light flocculent 
oxide mixes readily with oil without grinding; 
but though pressed, it covers much less sur- 
face than the same oxide moulded when mois- 
tened with water, and dried by artificial heat. 
This preparation also causes any yellowish or 
greenish tints to disappear, and the article 
may be supplied to the consumer in cakes, 
■which when ground with oil will cover more 
surface than the same weight of white lead. 
The body of the white zinc may be still fur- 
ther improved by calcination before grinding. 

The inferior colored sorts of oxide of zinc, 
such as are collected in the iron receivers 
near the furnaces, and that made from the 
pulverized ores of zinc, have been largely 
employed for painting iron surfaces, espec- 
ially on board of ships, the paint being found 
to possess a peculiar quality of protecting 
the iron it covers from rusting. 

Besides its use as a paint, oxide of zinc is 
applied to the preparation of the mastic for 
rendering metallic joints tight ; and to that of 
glazed papers and cards, for which white lead 
and carbonate of barytes have heretofore 
been used. The French use it in preparing 
the paste for artificial crystals instead of 
oxide of lead or other metallic oxides; and 
they have also made with it some of the 
finest sorts of cut glass and especially lenses. 
In the Great Exhibition of 1851, an award 
was made to specimens of zinc glass which 
presented a very pleasing and white appear- 
ance, and were regarded as especially suited 
to achromatic purposes. It was remarkable 
for its being purer and more pellucid than 
lead glass, and also of greater specific gravity. 

A patent has been granted in the United 
States for the manufacture of flint glass with 
oxide of zinc, and specimens of glass were 
produced with it in 1800, which were re- 
markable for tlieir brilliancy and beautiful 
surface, or " skin," as it is called. The glass 
is more infusible than that made with oxide 
of lead, and there seems to be no good rea- 
son to prevent it coming rapidly into use. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PLATINUM. 



ALTHOUon this metal is not obtained in 
large quantity in the United States, it is 
found associated with the gold in many lo- 

7 * 



calities in California and Oregon, and has 
been detected in Rutlierford county, North 
Carolina, and in traces in the lead and cop- 
per ores of Lancaster county, I'ennsylvania. 
From the states on the Pacific it has been 
supposed that it would yet be afforded as a 
commercial article. It is a metal of consid- 
erable interest from the extent to which it is 
used in the United States, and the success 
that has attended the attempts to work it in 
Pliiladelphia and New York. The metal is 
supplied to commerce from no certain source, 
and finds its way into the United States in 
a great variety of forms, as in native grains 
found in washing the gold deposits of Cauca 
on the western coast of South America, of 
Brazil, and Oregon, and in manufactured ar- 
ticles imported from Europe and chiefly 
from France. Russia produced between the 
years 1824 and 1845 many times as much 
platinum as all the rest of the world, and 
introduced the metal into her coinage ; but 
after 1845 it was no longer coined, and the 
yield of the deposits in the Ural has dwin- 
dled away to almost nothing. The supply 
from Borneo has been very largo for some 
years, the whole product of the island some- 
times amounting to 600 lbs. a year. It is 
found in small grains and lumps in the 
sands that are washed for gold ; and pieces 
of several pounds have been met with in Si- 
beria, the largest weighing over 22 lbs. troy. 
The properties wliich give to the metal its 
great value, as its power of resisting the ef- 
fects of heat and many of the most powerful 
chemical agents, also render it exceedingly 
difficult to work and to convert into useful 
shapes. The crude grains are generally al- 
loyed to the amount of about 20 per cent, of 
their weight with the very refractory metal 
iridium, with osmium, rhodium, iron, and 
sometimes other metals also. It is separated 
from the chief part of these and purified by 
dissolving the grains in aqua rcr/ia, a mixture 
of nitric and hydrochloric acid, and causing 
the metal to be precipitated by sal-ammoniac. 
It falls in a yellowish powder, which is a 
compound of platinum, ammonia, and chlo- 
rine. To decompose this the compound is 
separated from the liquid, and being well 
washed and dried, is heated red hot in a cast- 
iron crucible. This drives off the ammonia 
and chlorine, and the platinum remains in 
the crucible in a spongy condition. This is 
condensed into solid metal by repeated 
heatings and hammerings. It has always 
been a matter of great difficulty to raise 



PLATINUM. 



109 



sufBcient heat to soften the platinum, even in 
quantities less than an ounce, so that it could 
be worked under the hammer. It used for- 
merly to be brought into a metallic cake by 
making a fusible alloy of it with arsenic, and 
then burning out the Latter as much as pos- 
sible, and hammering or rolling the cake into 
sheets, but the arsenic remaining in the 
platinum always injures its quality. Dr. 
Robert Ilare, of I'hiladelphia, was the first 
to fuse the metal for any practical purpose, 
and in May, 18:38, lie exhibited a cake of 
about 23 ounces, which was run together 
from grains and scraps by means of the in- 
tense heat produced by bis oxy-hydrogen 
blowpipe. From a reservoir of oxygen, and 
from another of hydrogen, a gas-pipe con- 
veyed the gases into one tube, in which tliey 
were mixed just back of the igniting jets ; 
and in this the explosive mixture was kept 
cool by ice around the tube. Explosion was 
moreover guarded against by the extreme 
fineness of the apertures through which the 
gases were made to pass. 

This means of working platinum has been 
applied very successfully by Dr. E. A. L. 
Roberts, of Bond street, New York, in the 
preparation of platinum plate and various 
articles in this metal employed by dentists, 
such as the plates and fastenings for sets of 
artificial teeth, and the little pins which se- 
cure each tooth in its setting. The annual 
consumption of these last, it is estimated, 
amounts throughout the United States to 
about §60,000 in value, which is nearly i 
of the annual supply of the metal. The ap- 
paratus consists of two cylindrical copper 
gas-holders, one for hydrogen, holding 220 
gallons, and one for oxygen, holding 80 gal- 
lons. The Croton water, with a pressure of 
about 60 lbs. upon the square inch, is ad- 
mitted into the bottom of these gas-receivers, 
for propelling the gases as the}- are required. 
The discharge pipes have each at their ex- 
tremity a short brass tube, -which is full of 
pieces of wire of nearly the same length as 
the tulie, jammed in very tightly. These 
unite in another brass tube which is packed 
in a similar wa}', and connects by a metallic 
pipe of only i inch bore, with the burner. 
This is a little platinum box, one end of 
which terminates in a disk of platinum or 
copper i by i inch in size, perforated with 
21 very minute holes in 3 rows. This box 
is buried in plaster of Paris mixed up with 
fibres of asbestus, forming a lump sufficiently 
large to contain around the box a receptacle 



into which, by means of flexible pipes, a cur- 
rent of water is admitted and discharged on 
the same principle that the water-tuyeres 
of iron forges and furnaces are constructed 
and kept cool while in use. The burner 
points downward, so that the jet is directed 
immediately upon the face of tlie metal held 
up beneath it. The method of using the 
apparatus is as follows : the platinum scraps 
being first consolidated by pressure in 
moulds into compact cakes of 10 to 20 
ounces each, these are placed upon a plate 
of fire-brick, and brought to a full white 
heat in a powerful wind furnace. The plate 
with the platinum is then removed from the 
furnace and set in a large tin pan thickly 
lined with asbestus and plaster of I'aris, and 
is brought directly under the jet, which at 
the same time is ignited. The platinum im- 
mediately begins to melt upon the surface, 
and the pieces gradually run together into 
one mass as the dift'erent parts of the cakes 
are brought successively under the jet. 
Though the metal melts and flows upon 
itself, it cools too rapidly to be cast in a 
mould ; nor is this necessary or desirable 
for the uses to which it is applied. These 
require a soft and tough material, while the 
fused metal is hard and sonorous, and of 
crystalline texture, breaking like spelter. 
It is made malleable and tough by repeated 
heatings and hammerings. It is introduced 
into the muffle of the assay furnace con- 
structed by Dr. Roberts especially for pro- 
ducing the high heat required in these and 
similar operations, and is heated so intensely 
that when the door of the furnace is opened 
the cake of metal is too dazzlingly hot to be 
visible. It is then taken out with tongs 
plated with platimim, and hammered with a 
perfectly clean hammer upon a clean anvil, 
both of which should be as hot as possible 
without drawing the temper of the steel. If 
the process is one of welding, when the pla- 
tinum has cooled so as to be distinctly visi- 
ble, it should be heated again, for in this 
condition every blow tends to shatter and 
shake it to pieces. The lump is forged by 
hammering it to a thickness of about i of an 
inch, and then being again heated very hot, 
is passed instantly through the rolls. It is 
thus obtained in sheets, which are easily con- 
verted into the various uses to which the 
metal is applied. 

Upon the opposite page, the apparatus 
employed and manner of conducting the 
operations are exhibited in the wood-cut; 



no 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



and the articles designated by the figures 
are thus explained : — 

1. Reservoir for oxygen. 

2. " " hydrogen. 

3. Hydrogen generator. 

4. Oxygen " 
6. Blowpipe. 

G. Tuyere. 

1. Rolls for converting the metal into sheets. 

8. Gasometer. 

9. Water pipes. 

10. Pan. 

11. Moulds in which the loose pieces of metal are 

compressed. 

Crucibles for chemical use are prepared by 
the ingenious method called spinning. A 
disk of the metal is securely tixed against the 
end of the mandrel of a lathe, and, as it re- 
volves rapidly, a blunt point is pressed upon 
its surface, causing the plate to gradually 
bend over and assume the desired form. 
The large platinum retorts used in the man- 
ufacture of sulphuric acid are imported from 
Paris. The whole amount of platinum 
brought to the United States for the year 
1850 was 34,000 oz. troy, which, at the 
custom-house valuation of $6.10 per oz., 
amounts to $200,000. The importation 
.since that time has been very irregtdar, but 
never equal to this. The amount of scraps 
remelted by Dr. Roberts is about 1000 oz. a 
year. 

IRIDIUM AND OSMIUM. 

An alloy of these metals in fine grains of 
excessive hardness is found very frequently 
with platinum and with the gold which is 
refined at the mints. It is of interest from 
the use to which it is applied in forming the 
nibs of gold pens ; and for this purpose the 
small grains are purchased by the pen-makers 
sometimes at the rate of $250 an ounce. 
From this quantity they may select from 
8000 to 12,000 points of suitable size and 
shape for use. The alloy is known as iridos- 
iniuin, and is also very generally called irid- 
ium. At some seasons it has been quite 
abundant in the gold presented at the New 
York assay office ; but recently it is more 
rare. As it does not fuse .and alloy with the 
gold, it appears in specks upon the bars of 
this metal. The method of separating it is 
to melt the gold with a certain portion of 
silver, as in the usual refining process. The 
alloy thus obtained being less dense than the 
melted gold, the particles of iridium settle in 
the lower portions ; the upper is then ladled 
oflf, and the metals are parted. More of the 



impure gold is added, and the process thus 
goes on till a considerable amount of iridium 
is concentrated into the alio}' of gold and 
silver, from which it is at last obtained by 
dissolving these metals. According to the 
statement of Dr. Thevenet published in the 
A/inales des Mines (vol. xvi., 1859), irid- 
ium is collected at the gold-washings along 
the sea-coast of Oregon, and is sometimes 
quite equal in quantity to the gold. Ho 
describes it as white, glistening, very heav)', 
its specific gravity being 20 to '21, very hard, 
and resembling sand, its angles slightly flat- 
tened and rounded by friction. It is accom- 
panied by platinum .and rhodium. After 
one of the storms that prevail along this 
coast, the miners at low tide collect the 
black sand and carry it to the washing and 
amalgamating apparatus, in which it is stirred 
with mercury and then treated upon the 
shaking tables. Though by their rude proc- 
esses they probably lose i of the precious 
metals, they sometimes collect several ounces 
a day of gold to the man. Near Fort Or- 
ford, to the north of Rogue River, about 
1 5 per cent, of iridium is found with the 
gold. Still further north, between Cape 
Blanco and Coquillo, the metals collected 
consist of about 45 per cent, iridium and 5 
per cent, platinum. Between Randolph and 
Cape Arago the metallic grains are very 
light and in extremely thin scales ; they con- 
sist of 70 per cent, iridium and 6 per cent, 
platinum. Further north, the iridium con- 
tinues .almost as abundantly, but mostly in 
very fine particles. One piece w.as shown to 
Dr. Thevenet .as a great curiosity which was 
as large as a grain of rice. In sifting more 
than 50 lbs. of iridium, he states that he had 
not seen a single specimen of one quarter 
this size. 



CHAPTER VIL 



MERCURY. 



Tins metal, which is exten.sively employed 
in the arts, especially in the treatment of gold 
and silver ores by amalgamation, in the com- 
bination of amalgamsforcoating mirrors, etc., 
in the construction of barometers and ther- 
mometers, and other philosophical instru- 
ments, in the manufacture of the paint called 
vermilion, for several medicinal preparations, 
and for a variety of other purposes, was not 
classed .among the productions of the United 
States until after the acquisition of Califor- 



MERCURT. 



Ill 



nia, when mines of its principal ore were 
opened, wliich have been extensively worked, 
as will be described below. Mercurj', which 
is the only fluid metal, is found both in a 
native state, dispersed in drops among the 
slates that contain the veins of its ores, and 
also occurs in combination with sulphur in the 
ore called cinnabar, a compound of one atom 
of mercury and one of sulphur, or of 86.2 
per cent, of the former, and 13.8 per cent, 
of the latter. Some other natural compounds 
are known, which are not, however, of much 
importance. Cinnabar is almost the exclu- 
sive source of the metal. This is a very 
heavy, brilliant ore of different shades of red; 
is readily volatilized at a red heat, giving off 
fumes, wlien exposed to the air, both mer- 
curial and sulphurous ; but in tight vessels it 
sublimes without decomposition, and if lime 
or iron be introduced with the ore into re- 
torts, the sulphur is retained in combination 
with the new element, and the mercury es- 
capes in vapor, which may be condensed 
and recovered in the metallic state. On 
this principle the process for collecting mer- 
cury is based. The ores of mercury are 
found in almost all the geological formations, 
but the productive mines are only in the 
metatnorphic or lowest stratified rocks, and in 
the bituminous slates of the coal measures. 

In order to appreciate the importance of 
the mines of California, it is necessary to un- 
derstand the extent of the demand for this 
metal, and the sources which have supplied it. 
From the time of the ancient Greeks and Ro- 
mans, mercury has been held in high estima- 
tion, and has been furnished from the same 
mines, which h.ave ever since produced the 
chief part of the product of the world. Pliny 
states that the Greeks imported red cinnabar 
from Almaden in Spain, 700 years before 
the Christian era, and in his own time it was 
broui^ht to Rome from the same mines to 
the amount of 700,000 lbs. annually. In 
modern times the production amounts to 
2,700,000 to 3,456,000 lbs. per annum, and 
is chiefly obtained from two veins, one 
about 2 feet, and the other 14 feet thick, 
which, meeting in a hill about 125 feet high, 
spread out to a thickness of nearlj' 100 feet. 
The ores are of small percentage, yielding 
about ,-„ only of mercur}-. The greatest 
depth of the workings was onl)' about 330 
yards several years ago. After the metal has 
been extracted from the ores, it is packed in 
iron bottles or flasks holding 76i lbs. each, 
and is taken to Cadiz for shipment. For 



many years past, the lessees from the Span- 
ish government, in whom the title is vested, 
have been the Rothschilds and other bank- 
ers of Europe ; but their contracts with the 
government have varied from time to time, 
thus aftecting the price at which the product 
was held.* 

The mines next in importance have been 
those of Idria in Carniola, belonging to the 
Austrian government. These, for some 
years previous to 1847, had produced an 
annual average of 358,281 lbs. of mercury, 
and since that time, the production has va- 
ried, sometimes reaching 600,000, and even 
over 1,000,000 lbs. per annum. The other 
mines of Europe do not probably produce 
200,000 lbs. On the American continent 
many localities of the ores have been worked 
to some extent ; but although the consump- 
tion is very great at the silver mines of 
Mexico, amounting, as estimated by Hum- 
boldt, to 16,000 quintals of 200 lbs. each, 
three fourths of the supply was then derived 
from the European mines. In 1782, mer- 
cury was even brought to South America 
from China, where it was formerly largely 
extracted in the province of Yunnan. Yet 
in the early years of the Spanish conquest 
Peru was a large producer of the metal, its 
most important mines being in the province 
of Iluancavelica, where no loss than 41 dif- 
ferent localities of the ore have been known ; 
but at present the whole product of the 
country is supposed not to exceed 200,000 
lbs. A large portion of this product is from 
the Santa Barbara, or the " Great Mine," 
which has been worked since 1566. The 
mines of Chili and the numerous localities at 
which the ores have been found in Mexico 
supply no metal of consequence. Dumas 
estimated, not long since, the total annual 
production as follows : — 

lbs. avoirdupois. 

Almaden, Spain 2,100,000 to .S, 456, 000 

Idria 648,000 " 1,080,000 

Hungary aud Transylvania.. 75,600" 97,200 

Deu.x Fonts 42,200" 54,000 

Palatinate 19,400" 21,600 

Huancavelica . . 324,000 

California 2,000,000 

Total 7,032,800 

* In 1839 tlie royalty demanded by the govern- 
ment was $59 per quintal of lOG lbs., to wliich it 
liad reached by successive advances from $51.25; 
and in 1843 it had advanced to $82.50 per quintal. 
The opening of the California mines soon caused this 
to be considerably reduced. 



112 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



In California the existence of large quan- 
tities of cinnabar was known long before the 
real character of the ore was understood. It 
was found along a range of hills on the 
southern side of the valley of San Jose, 
about 60 miles south-east from San Fran- 
cisco. For an unknown period the Indians 
had frequented the locality, coming to it 
from distant places, even from the Columbia 
river, to obtain the bright vermilion paint 
with which to ornament their persons. With 
rude implements, such as the stones they 
picked from the streams, they extracted 
the ore from the flinty slates and shales in 
which it was found, and in their search for 
it they excavated a passage into the moun- 
tain of about sixty feet in length. In 
1824 the attention of the whites began to 
be directed to this curious ore, and some of 
the Mexicans sought to extract from it gold 
or silver. Other trials made of it in 1845 
resulted in the discovery of its true charac- 
ter, and operations were thereupon com- 
menced to work it by one Andres Castil- 
lero. Owing, however, to the disturbed 
state of the country, little was done until 
1850, when a company of Mexicans and 
English engaged vigorously in the extraction 
and metallurgical treatment of the ore, and 
established the mine which they called the 
Kew Almaden. In 185S a stop was put 
upon their further proceedings by an injunc- 
tion issued by the United States court on 
the question of defective title. From the 
testimony presented in the trial, it a])pearcd 
that the company in the course of eight 
years had produced full 20,000,000 Ibs.^of 
metal, and realized a profit of more than 
$1,000,000 annually. The Americans who 
claimed the mine directed their attention to 
the discovery of new localities of the ore, 
and succeeded in finding it upon the same 
range of hills within less than a mile of the 
old workings. Here they opened a new 
mine in December, 1858, which they named 
the Enrequita, and in June, 1860, a com- 
pany was formed in New York for working 
it under the name of the " California Quick- 
silver Mining Association." The following 
are the returns of their operations to the 
latest dates: in September, 1859, the prod- 
uct of mercury was 14,400 lbs. ; October, 
28,650; November, 27,525; December, 
28,425; January, 1860, 27,000; February, 
16,950; March, 25,500 ; April, 33,700; 
May, 46,275 ; June, 48,750; July, 50,000; 
August, 79,806 ; September, 66,096. The 



increase of production, liereafter, will be 
limited rather by the capacity of the re- 
ducing apparatus than by that of the mine. 
Twenty-four retorts for distilling the mer- 
cur}' are now in operation, of which liave 
been started since August, 18G0. From the 
report of October 11, 1860, it appears that 
a new vein has also been opened, in which 
20 men are employed, working in solid cin- 
nabar without having encountered the 
boundary walls of the lode. The total ex- 
penditure for mining, for machinery, etc., 
up to October 15, 1800, had amounted to 
§275,000, all of which has been paid out of 
the proceeds of the mine, leaving a consid- 
erable balance on hand. The company 
owns another mine also, called the Provi- 
dencia, which has produced some cinna- 
bar. 

The operations at the Enrequita mine are 
carried on from the face of the hill, some 5 
or 6 levels one above another being carried 
into the mountain up and down its slope. 
The most extensive of these is the adit level J 
at the base, which is about GOO feet long. 1 
Shafts arc sunk from this to the depth of 
about 50 feet ; but the principal workings 
are in the upper levels for 300 feet over the 
adit. These are exceedingly irregular, ow- 
ing to the unequal distribution of the ore 
through the argillaceous slates. It lies in 
beds included between the strata of these 
lower silurian rocks, dipping with them at j 
a very steep angle, and winding with the 1 
contortions of the strata. The workings 
follow the bunches of ore as they lead up or 
down, and to the right or left. Shafts occa- 
sionally penetrate from one level to another, 
bnt no regular system of working appears to 
have been adopted. With the cinnabar is 
intermixed some arsenical iron and copper 
pyrites, and the ore and slates are both trav- 
ersed by veins of carbonate of lime, some 
of which are retained in hand specimens of 
the cinnabar. 

On the same range of hills, at its western 
extremity, the Santa Clara Mining Company, 
of Baltimore, has opened a mine called the 
Guadalupe, the product of which for the 
year 1860 was about 200,000 lbs. 

The total prwluction of the quicksilver 
mines, from the beginning of 1853 to the 
close of 1858, was about 177,578 flasks, or 
13,318,350 lbs. In 1866, the California 
mines produced 3,505,878 lbs, and in 1867, 
3,810,957 lbs. Litigation has prevented 
most of them from being fully worked. 



7- ' ~'' 




lU 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



METALLURGIC TREATMENT. 

From cinnabar not contaminated with 
strange metals, the method of obtaining the 
fluid mercury is very simple. In the early 
workings of the New Almaden mine, the 
clean ores were placed in the common " try 
pots," such as are used by the whalers, and 
a cover being tightly luted on, a fire was 
started under them, and the mercurial vapors 
escaped through a tube inserted in the lid 
and were condensed in cold vessels. After- 
ward furnaces were constructed in brick-work 
upon a large scale, each one provided with a 
chaml)or or oven 7 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 
5 feet high, corresponding to the chamber 
of the revcrberatory furnaces ; and into this 
was introduced a charge of 10,000 lbs. of 
clean ore separated from tlie poorer portions 
after the whole had been broken up. With 
the ore was mixed a portion of lime to com- 
bine with and retain the sulphur. A parti- 
tion of hrick-work separated the oven from 
the fire-room, and the bricks in this partition 
were so laid as to leave open spaces for the 
flame from the burning wood to pass 
through. On the opposite side of the oven 
another partition separated this from a 
chamber of its own size, the only communi- 
cation between them being by a square hole 
in one of the corners close to the roof. 
This chamber connected with another by an 
opening in the opposite corner near the 
floor, and this arrangenient was extended 
through eight chambers. Between the last 
one and the tall wooden flues through which 
the smoke and vapors finally passed out into 
the open air was placed a long wooden box 
provided with a showering apparatus. As 
the cinnabar was volatilized by the flame 
playing over the charge, the vapors were 
carried through tlie condensing chambers, 
depositing in each a portion of mercury, and 
in the showering box they underwent their 
final condensation. From the bottom of 
each chamber the met.al flowed in gutters to 
the main conduit wlueh led to the great iron 
reservoir sunk in the ground. From this it 
was poured into flasks through brushes 
which intercepted the scum of oxide of mer- 
cury. The method proved very wasteful, 
from the leakage of the vapors through the 
brick-work ; and it has been abandoned for 
an improved process,' in which the pulverized 
ores mixed with quicklime are charged into 
large cast-iron retorts very similar in their 
form and setting to those employed at the 



gas-works. Three arc sot together in a 
bench of brick-work, and each one is fur- 
nished with an eduction pipe inserted in 
the end and leading down into water con- 
tained in a large cylindrical condenser of 
iron. This is placed along the front line of 
the furnace, so as to receive the vapors from 
all the retorts. The mercury, as it is con- 
densed, falls down to the bottom, and is let 
out through a pipe by a contrivance that pre- 
vents the water flowing with it from the con- 
denser. At the Enrequita mine each bench 
of three retorts requires a little over a cord 
of oak wood a day for heating. Four bench- 
es, in operation from September, 1859, em- 
ployed G men in charging and discharging, 
working in 2 shifts of 3 men, besides 3 fire- 
men, each working 8 hours. Two men be- 
sides these were employed in mixing the ores 
for the retorts. In June, 1860, the produc 
tion of these furnaces, from 1000 carijas of 
ore of 300 lbs. each, was about 50,000 lbs., 
or about 17 per cent. 

In conducting the furnaces, the workmen 
are seriously affected by inhaling the mercu- 
rial vapors. They are sometimes even sali- 
vated, and are often obliged to abandon the 
business for a time. The horses and mules 
also suflfer from the noxious fumes, and many 
are lost in consequence. But no injurious 
effects are experienced among those em- 
ployed in the mines, the cinnabar being al- 
ways handled with impunity. 

The view of the works presents their ap- 
pearance in 1852, as sketched by J. R. Bart- 
lett, Esq. It was first published in his " Per- 
sonal Narrative" (New York, 1854). 

USEFUL APPLICATIONS OF MERCURY. 

The principal uses to which mercury is 
applied have already been named. The 
largest quantities are consumed in working 
gold iind silver ores. The principle of the 
amalgamating process is explained in the 
account of the treatment of gold ores. In 
the arts amalgams arc .applied to many use- 
ful purposes, of which the most important is 
coating the backs of looking-glass plates with 
tin amalgam. Silver was originally em- 
ployed instead of tin, and the process is still 
called " silvering." It is conducted at sev- 
eral establishments in the United States on 
the old Venetian plan, which has been in 
use for 300 years. The largest mirrors are 
prepared by Messrs. Roosevelt & Sons, in 
New York, from the French plates which 
they import. The process is a simple one, 



SILVER — COBALT NICKEL — CHROME MANGANESE TIN. 



115 



but is attended with some difficulties arising 
from the imperfections which will sometimes 
appear upon the coating, notwithstanding 
the particular care taken to avoid them. 
The health of the workmen also suffers, so 
that they cannot pursue the business more 
than a few years. The only precaution 
taken to protect them from the effects of 
the mercury is thorough ventilation. Fre- 
quent use of sulphur baths also is very ben- 
eficial. The method of silvering is as fol- 
lows : tables are prepared of stone made 
perfectly smooth, with grooves sunk around 
the edges. These are set horizontally, but 
can be raised a little at one end by a screw. 
Each table is covered with tinfoil carefully 
spread out over a larger surface than the 
plate will cover, and slips of glass being laid 
around three of the sides, the mercury is 
poured on till it covers the foil to the depth 
of about i of an inch. Its affinity for the 
tin, and the slips of glass, prevent its fl.iwing 
off. The glass plate rendered perfectly 
clean is then slidden along the open side, 
the advancing edge being kept in the mer- 
cury, so that no air nor oxide of the metal 
can get between the plate and the amalgam. 
The plate, when iu place, is secured and 
pressed down by weights laid upon it, and 
the table is raised a little to allow the excess 
of mercur)' to trickle off by the grooves and 
collect in a vessel placed on the floor to re- 
ceive it. After remaining thus for several 
hours, the plate is taken off and turned over 
upon a fiame. After several weeks the 
amalgam becomes hard, and the glass may 
then be set on edge. 

Amalgams of the precious metals are used 
for what are called the water-gilding and 
•water-silvering methods of gilding and silvor- 
ingapplied to buttonsand various other metal- 
lic articles. These, being made chemically 
clean, are washed over with the amalgam 
contained in a large excess of mercury, and 
are then placed in a furnace artd heated till 
the mercury is driven off by the heat, leaving 
a thin film of the precious metal, which may 
then be burnished. 

Mercurial medicines, as calomel, (the chlo- 
ride,) and blue mass, which is the metal re- 
duced to fine particles by long-continued 
trituration, and incorporated with twice its 
weight of confection of roses and liquorice 
TOot, are very largely prepared, especially 
for the southern and western states and the 
West India islands. The labor of triturating 
the mercury for blue mass has led to the in- 



troduction of ingenious machinery for the 
purpose, invented by Mr. J. W. W. Gordon 
of Baltimore, and by Dr. E. 11. Squibb of 
Brooklyn, and worked by the latter at his 
pharmaceutical laboratory by steam power. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SILVER — COB.\LT— NICKEL — CHROME — 

MANGANESE— TIN. 

But few other ores of much importance 
are found in the United States, besides those 
of which accounts have been given ; and it 
remains to describe the occurrence and ap- 
plications of the ores of those metals only 
which are comprised in the heading of this 
chapter. 



Tlie occurrence of this metal in the United 
States is chiefly limited to some of the lead 
ores ; and in very few of these, as noted in 
the chapter upon lead, has it been found 
in sufficient quantity to justify the working 
of the mines and separation of the silver. 
The Washington mine in Davidson co., N. 
C, is still worked with moderate success 
for both metals ; but the only promising 
silver mines are those of Arizona, near 
the Gila river in New Mexico, and the 
Washoe mines on the extreme western 
verge of the Utah territory. 

In the territory of Arizona, especially in 
that portion of it ceded to the United 
States under the Gadsden treat}', are numer- 
ous mines productive in silver, some of 
which were worked when the territory be- 
longed to old Spain. These are now at- 
tracting the attention of Americans, and in 
1859 and 1860, companies were organized 
in Cincinnati, New York, and St. Louis, for 
exploring and working them. The princi- 
pal mine is that of the Sonora Company, 
of Cincinnati. The locality is about 75 
miles south of Tucson, and about 270 
miles north of Guaymas, which is the chief 
port of the Gulf of California. Several 
mines in the vicinity were formerly worked 
by the Mexicans for silver, and abandoned 
in consequence of Indian depredations and 
political troubles. The Sonora Company 
commenced operations in 1858 upon a new 
discovery, and have produced a considerable 
amount of silver, reduced fr<mi the ores at 
their works, at Arivaca, 7 miles from the 



116 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



mines. Seventy miles north of Tucson, 
operations were commenced in 1860, in 
another localit}', on the same mining range, 
by a company organized in New York, called 
the Maricopa Mining Company. Their mine 
affords rich argentiferous copper ores, sam- 
ples of which have been brought to New 
York, and assayed by Prof John Torrey, 
and other chemists. They proved to be 
vitreous copper, associated with carbonates, 
and yielded an average of over 50 per cent. 
of copper. The metal contained variable 
amounts of silver, worth from S40 to S80 
per ton. Gold was also detected in it. The 
outlet for this is also by (iuaymas, 420 miles 
distant, tlirough a region easily traversed by 
wagons, and upon long-established routes. 
The cost of transportation, by contracts of 
Mexicans, is at the rate of 5i cents per lb., 
for the whole distance. In the vicinity of 
the mines, on the Gila river, it is proposed 
to reduce the ores. The region is on the 
Pacific slope of the range of the silver min- 
ing districts of Sonora and Durango, and its 
rock formations are granitic and metainor- 
pbic, traversed by dikes of trap, and con- 
taining beds of quartz. 

On the Rio Mimbres, 240 miles east of 
Tucson, are the Santa liita del Cobre and 
Mimbres mines, from which 333,000 lbs. 
of copper are reported as having been de- 
livered in New York in 1860. The metal 
was smelted at the mines, transported through 
Texas to Port Lavacca, and thence to New 
Y'ork. Whether the ores contain silver or 
not, is not known. Besides the operations 
above named, others are in progress in Ari- 
zona, of which we have no details. The 
region is described in the " Personal Narra- 
tive" of J. R. Bartlctt, Esq., and in the Con- 
gressional Pacific Railroad reports. 

The Washoe ores are argentiferous gale- 
nas of richness varying between great ex- 
tremes, some of the best sorts which have 
been shipped to New York, and thence to 
England, containing enough silver to give 
them a value of §2000 per ton. The mines 
are in the inferior range of hills along the 
eastern base of the Sierra Nevada, and are 
met with over an extensive territory in the 
valle}- of the upper j)ortion of Carson's 
River and many miles beyond this to the 
north. Those of most importance are in 
the vicinity of several new towns, called 
Virginia City, Silver City, Carson City, etc., 
about 16u miles north-east from Sacramento, i 
From that point the crest of the Sierra Ne- [ 



vada is reached in 100 miles, nearly due 
east, and the remaining 60 miles is down 
the valley of Carson's River. The discov- 
eries of tlie silver ores were made the latter 
part of the year 1S59, but it was known be- 
fore this that gold existed in the valley, 
and that the value of this metal was deteri- 
orated by the silver with which it was usu- 
ally alloyed. The opening of permanent veins 
of silver ores produced a great excitement 
throughout California, and led to an ex- 
traordinary emigration to the new mining 
district, and rapid development during the 
year 1860 of its resources. The consid- 
erable number of mines already in opera- 
tion, upon veins of unquestionable perma- 
nency, and the great richness of some of 
the ores, together with the variety of those 
already found, leave no room for doubting 
that this is a mining region of great impor- 
tance, and must largely add to the metallic 
productions of the extreme western states. 

The ores, on account of their complex 
character, are difficult to reduce with econ- 
omy, and the ordinary methods of obtain- 
ing the lead fail, when applied to compounds 
like these, which contain a large proportion 
of silica, from which the galena cannot be 
mechanically separated. The German method 
of treating sucli ores, employed at Clausthal, 
is to reduce them in small blast furnaces, 
with a flux of granulated cast iron, or of iron 
turnings, admitting only air enough to keep 
up the combustion of the fuel. The lead 
and silver are set free by the sulphur of the 
ore combining with the iron, and the forma- 
tion of infusible silicates of oxide of lead is 
prevented by guarding against the oxidation 
of lead, through too great access of air. The 
separation is, however, very imperfect in a 
single operation, and the rich slags obtained 
are roasted in order to convert the sulphuret 
of iron into oxide of iron, which, combining 
with the silicates of the scoria^ forms very 
fusible compounds, which are theji returned 
to the furnace mixed with fresh charges of 
ore. The silver goes with the lead, and is 
separated by cupellation. 



The ores of this metal are of rather rare 
occurrence, and are applied to practical pur- 
poses not to furnish the metal but its ox- 
ide, which is of value for its property of 
giving a beautiful blue color to glass with 
which it is melted, and of producing other 
fine colors when mixed with some other sub- 



SILVER COBALT NICKEL CHROME MANGANESE TIN. 



117 



stances. The ores are sought for all over 
the world for the supply of the British man- 
ufactories of porcelain, stained glass, etc. 
They are chiefly combinations of cobalt 
with arsenic, sulphur, and sometimes with 
nickel and iron. The compound known as 
sinaltine, or arsenical cobalt, was obtained 
at Chatham, Conn., as far back as 1787, and 
the mine has been worked for cobalt at dif- 
ferent times in the present century. The co- 
balt in the ore is associated with about an 
equal amount of nickel, and its proportion 
is said to have been less than two per cent. 
Cobaltine, which is a compound of sulphur 
19.3 per cent., arsenic 45.2, and cobalt 
35.5, is the most productive ore of this 
metal, but is not met with in this country. 
Varieties of pyritous cobalt have been found 
in Maryland in quantities too small for 
working ; and also at Mine la Motte in Mis- 
souri, associated with a black earthy oxide 
of cobalt and black oxide of manganese. 
In other places, also, oxide of cobalt, in 
small quantity, is a frequent accompaniment 
of manganese ores. Mine la Motto has fur- 
nished a considerable amount of the cobalt 
oxide, but the beds in which it is found are 
not of permanent character, and are so far 
exhausted as to be no longer worked with 
profit. A similar ore, accompanied with 
nickel, appears to be very abundantly dis- 
tributed among the talcose and quartzose 
slates in Gaston and Lincoln counties, North 
Carolina. It is thrown out with a variety 
of other ores, as galena, blende, titaniferous 
iron, etc.. in working the gold mines of this 
region ; and it is mixed among the great 
beds of hematite, found in the same district, 
which are the product of the decomposition 
of beds of pyritous iron. In some places it 
is so abundant that the strata containing it 
are conspicuous where the roads pass over 
them, bv the blackness of the gossan (de- 
composed ore) or wad. Prof. H. Wurtz, 
who describes these localities (see "American 
Journal of Science," 2d series, vol. xxvii., p. 
24), is of opinion that the earthy oxide of 
cobalt is the gossan of the sulphuret of this 
metal, existing unaltered in the rocks below. 
Oxide of cobalt, obtained in a crude 
state from the washed arsenical ores, is 
known as zaflfre or saflor, and in this condi- 
tion it is a commercial article. It is refined 
by separating the arsenic, iron, and other for- 
eign substances, by precipitating them from 
the solution in hydrochloric acid ; and the ox- 
ide is finally obtained by precipitating with 



chloride of lime, and heating the product to 
redness. Smalt is a preparation of cobalt 
largely used in the ; rts as a coloring material, 
and consists of silicate of potash and cobalt. 
It is in fact a potash glass colored by silicate 
of cobalt, and is prepared as follows : Zaf- 
fre is melted in pots, with suitable propor- 
tions of pure sand and potash and a little 
saltpetre. The other metals combine to- 
gether and sink in a metallic mass, which 
is called speiss. The glass containing the 
oxide of cobalt is ladled out and pour- 
ed into water to granulate it, and is then 
ground to powder. This being introduced 
into vats of water, the colored glass sub- 
sides in deposits, which gradually diminish 
in their proportions of oxide of cobalt. 
The first are of the deepest blue, and are 
called azure ; but of this, and of the succeed- 
ing fainter shades, there are many varieties, 
distinguished b}' peculiar names. When 
finely powdered, smalt is applied to col- 
oring wall papers, and blueing linen, be- 
sides being incorporated with porcelain to 
impart to it permanent blue shades. The 
great value of oxide of cobalt, amounting to 
several dollars per lb., renders it an impor- 
tant object to fully develop the resources of 
the country in its ores, as well for export as 
for domestic use. In 1856 there were im- 
ported into Great Britain 428 tons of co- 
balt ore, and 34 tons of oxide of cobalt. 



Nickel is a metal of some commercial im- 
portance, and is employed chiefly for pro- 
ducing, with copper and zinc, the alloy 
known as German silver. The proportions 
of these metals are not constant, but the 
most common in use are eight parts of copper 
to three.each of nickel and zinc. The larger 
the proportion of copper, the more easily the 
plates are rolled ; but if more is used than 
the relative amounts named, the copper soon 
becomes apparent in use. The new cent 
contains 12 parts of nickel to 88 of copper, 
and the manufacture of this adds somewhat 
to the demand. The metal has been mined 
at Chatham, Conn., and is met with at Mine 
la Motte and other localities where cobalt 
is found. It occurs in greatest abundance at 
an old mine in Lancaster county, Penn., 
where it is associated with copper ores. The 
mine was originally worked for copper, it is 
said, more than one hundred and thirty years 
ago, and was reopened for supplying nickel 
for the U. S. Mint, on the introduction of 



118 



MINING INDUSTRT OF THE UNITED STATES. 



the new cent in 1857. The sulphuret of 
nickel, containing, when pure, 64.9 per cent, 
of nickel, and 35.1 per cent, of sulphur, is in 
very largo quantity, in two veins of great size, 
one of which has been traced over 600 feet, 
and the other over 900 feet in length. In 
1859 it was producing at the rate of 200 tons 
of nickel ore and ten tons of copper ore per 
month. A pyritous variety of nickel ore, 
called siegenite, is found at Mine la Motte, 
Missouri, and in Carroll county, Maryland. 
In Gaston and Lincoln counties, North Car- 
olina, similar ore was found by Prof. Wurtz, 
as noticed in the remarks on cobalt, above. 

CHROME OR CHROMIUM. 

The ore of this metal, known as chromic 
iron or chromate of iron, lias been mined 
for many years in the United States, both 
for exportation and domestic use. It is the 
source whence the chrome colors are ob- 
tained that are largely used in the arts, es- 
pecially in dyeing and calico printing. The 
name of the metal, from a Greek word 
meaning color, was given in consequence of 
the fine colors of its compounds. It usually 
consists of the sesquioxide of cliromium in 
proportion varying from 36 to GO per cent., 
protoxide of iron from 20 to 37 per cent., 
alumina sometimes exceeding 20 per cent., 
and more or less silica, and sometimes mag- 
nesia. Its value consists oidy in the first- 
named inrfrodient. The localities of the ore 
are in the serpentine rocks of different parts 
of the United States, as in the Bare Hills, 
near Baltimore, and near the Maryland state 
line on the southern edge of Chester and 
Lancaster counties, Pennsylvania. In small 
quantities the ore is met with at Hobo- 
ken, Staten Island, and other places near 
New York city. It is found in several 
towns in Vermont, but the largest veins of 
it are in Jay, in the northern part of the 
state. The composition of this ore was 
found by Mr. T. S. Hunt to be 49.9 of 
green oxide or sesquioxide of chromium, 
48.96 of protoxide of iron, and 4.14 per 
cent, of alumina, silica, and magnesia. 
Though the quantity of the ore in this re- 
gion is reported to be large, the principal 
supplies of the country have been obtained 
in Maryland, and from the mines just over 
the state line in Pennsylvania. The ore, 
as recently as 1854, was found in loose frag- 
ments among the disintegrated materials of 
the serpentine upon the tracts called the 
barrens, and was gathered up from the val- 



leys and ravines, and dug out in sinking 
shallow pits and trenches over the surface. 
The ore thus obtained was called " sand 
chrome," and for a time it had been worth 
§45 per ton, and thousands of tons had 
been collected and shipped, principally to 
Baltimore. At the period named these su- 
perficial deposits were mostly exliausted, 
and the value of the ore was only about 
§25 per ton. This, however, was sufficient 
to sustain regular mining operations, which 
were then carried on upon the veins found 
in the serpentine, a little west uf the east 
branch of tlie Octorara Creek. Wood's 
chrome mine, near the Horse-shoe Ford, 
was at that time about 150 feet deep, and 
the workings had been extended north-east 
and south-west about 300 feet, upon an 
irregular vein of chrome ore, which lay at 
an inclination of about 45° with the hor- 
izon toward the north-west. The ore, in 
places, formed bunches, which attained a 
width of 20 feet, and then thinned away 
to nothing. Four men obtained from the 
mine 7 or 8 tons of excellent ore a day, 
the best of which was directly placed in 
barrels for the foreign market, and the 
poorer was dressed and washed for the Bal- 
timore, and other home markets. The state 
line mine, in the same vicinity, worked to 
about the same depth, had produced several 
thousand tons. Tlie supplies of this ore are 
always of uncertain continuance. 

Useful Applications. — Chromate of 
iron is used chiefly in the production of 
chromate of potash, and from this the 
other useful chromatic salts are obtained. 
The object in view in the chemical treat- 
ment of the ore is to convert the sesqui- 
oxide of chromium into the peroxide or 
chromic acid, and cause this to combine 
with potash. This may be effected by vari- 
ous methods, as by exposi^ig a mixture of 
the pulverized ore and of kiltpetre (nitrate 
of potash) to a strong heat for some hours. 
The chrome is peroxidized at the expense of 
the oxygen of the nitric acid of the salt- 
petre, and the chromic acid combines with 
the potash ; or if the ore is mixed with car- 
bonate of ])otash and calcined, the peroxida- 
tion of the chrome is eflectcd by admission 
of air into the furnace, and the same prod- 
uct is obtained as in the employment of 
saltpetre. The introduction of lime hastens 
the operation. Other mixtures also are 
used for the same purpose. Wlien the cal- 
cined matter, having been drawn out from 



SILVER COBALT NICKEL — CHROME — MANGANESE TIN. 



119 



the furnace, is lixiviated with water, the 
chromate of potash is dissolved and washed 
out, and is afterward recovered in the form 
of yellow crystals on evaporating the water. 
From chromate of potash the other salts are 
readilv produced. Chrome yellow, used as 
a paint, is prepared by mixing chromate of 
potash with a soluble salt of lead, and col- 
lecting the yellow precipitate of chromate of 
lead which falls. A bright red precipitate 
is obtained by thus employing a salt of mer- 
cury, and a deep red with salts of silver. 
Chrome green is produced by mixing Prus- 
sian blue with chrome yellow. Some new 
and very interesting compounds of tlie ses- 
quioxide of chromium with ditl'erent bases 
have been recently obtained by Prof. A. K. 
Eaton of New York, and in consequence 
of their decided colors and the extraordi- 
nary permanency of these against powerful 
reagents applied to remove them, the salts 
■were employed for printing bank-notes. 
Though they proved to be all that was re- 
quired as to the colors themselves, the steel 
plates were so rapidly cut by the excessively 
sharp and hard powders, however finely they 
were ground, that it was found necessary to 
abandon their use. The new .salts were chro- 
mitcs — that of iron having a dark purple col- 
or ; of manganese, a lighter shade of the 
same ; of copper, a rich blueish black ; of 
zinc, a golden brown ; of alumina, a green, 
somewhat paler than that of the sesquio.x- 
ide. 

MANGANESE. 

Though this is a metal of no value of it- 
self, one of its ores, called pyrolnsite, is a 
mineral of some commercial importance, 
chietly on account of the large proportion 
of oxvgen it contains, part of which it 
can be casil)' made to give up when simply 
heated in an iron retort. The composition 
of pyrolusite, or black oxide of manganese, 
is 60.4 per cent, of manganese, and 36.6 
per cent, of oxygen. It is a hard, steel- 
gray ore, resembling some of the magnetic 
iron ores, and is often found accompanying 
iron ores, especially the hematites. In the 
United States it is met with in various lo- 
calities along the range of the hematites, 
from Canada to Alabama, and has been 
mined to considerable extent at Chittenden 
and Bennington, Vermont; WestStockbridge 
and Sheffield, Mass. ; on the Delaware river, 
and near Kutztown, Berks co., Pcnn. ; and 
abounds in different parts of the gold region, 



as on Hard-labor Creek, Edgefield District, 
S. C. Usually the ore is found in loose 
pieces among the clays which fill the irregu- 
lar cavities between the limestone strata ; 
its quantity is of course very uncertain, 
and its mines are far from being of a perma- 
nent character. Oxide of iron is commonly 
mixed with the manganese ore, reducing its 
richness, and at the same time seriouslv in- 
juring it for some of the purposes to which 
it is applied. As obtained from the mines, 
the assorted ore is packed in barrels and 
sent to the chemical establishments, where 
it is employed principally in the manufac- 
ture of chloride of lime or bleaching pow- 
der. For this purpose the pulverized black 
oxide of manganese is introduced into hydro- 
chloric acid, and this being heated a double 
decomposition takes place, a portion of its 
chlorine is expelled, and the hydrogen that 
was combined with it unites with a part of 
the oxygen of the pyrolusite. The chlo- 
rine, which it was the object of the process 
to obtain, is then brought in contact with 
hydrate of lime, and uniting with the cal- 
cium base, forms the bleaching powder. A 
similar result is obtained by mixing the ox- 
ide of manganese with chloride of sodium 
(common salt), and adding sulphuric acid. 
By these operations a weight of oxygen 
equal to about one tliird that of the pure 
ore may be obtained, and this may be ap- 
plied to any of the purposes for which oxy- 
gen not absolutely pure is required. Black 
oxide of manganese is also used to decolor- 
ize glass stained green by the presence of 
the protoxide of iron. Its own amethystine 
tint is supposed to neutralize the optical ef- 
fect of the greenish hue of the iron. Pure 
pyrolusite, free from iron, might be shipped 
to profit to Liverpool, where it is worth S'So 
to S40 per ton, but inferior ore would in- 
volve bills of cost. The chemically prepared 
permanganate of potassa has come into ex- 
tensive use as an anti-septic, of lute years. 



The very useful metal, tin, is not one of 
the products of this country, and there is 
no encouragement for hoping that its ores 
will ever be found in workable quantity. Its 
presence has been recognized in a few small 
crystals of oxide of tin, found in Chester- 
field and Goshen, Mass., and it has been de- 
tected as a mere trace in the iron ores of 
the Hudson, and iron and zinc ores of New 
Jersey ; it is also associated with some of 



120 



NISISG ISnrSTRY OF THE rNITKD STATES. 



the gold ores of Virginia. In tlie town of 
Jaokson, N. II., is .1 vein of arsenical iron, 
containing tliin streaks of oxide of tin. There 
have been diseovered. also, some of the tin 
ores lliongli not as vet in hirge quantity in 
JIaine. in Missonri. in Texas, and in Califor- 
nia. The last named, it is thought, may yet 
fxirnish considerable siipulies. Tin is impor- 
ted ehietly fronj the mines of Cornwall. Kng- 
land. and from l^anca, and other ishinds of 
the Malay archipelago. The United States 
is one of the largest consmners of tin, sheet 
tin having been appliixl, through the inge- 
nuity of the workers of this .nrtide in Coii- 
neeticut, to the manufaeture of a variety of 
useful ntensils. What is called ^heet tin is 
really sheet iron coated with a very thin 
layer of tin. The sheets are jirepared in 
Kngland by dipping the brightened iron 
sheets into a batli of melted tin. The jiro- 
cess has been applied to txiaiing articles 
made of iron, wjiiclt are thus jirotected 
from rusting ; and zinc is also used for sim- 
ilar purposes. Such are stirrtips, bridle-bits, 
etc Ciist-iron pots and s;iuoepans are tin- 
ned on the inside by inelted tin being poured 
in and made to tlow over the surface, which 
h;is been made chemically clean to receive 
the metal. The surtace is then rubbed with 
cloth or tow. Tin is importcil in blocks or 
ingots, and the metal is applied to the prej)- 
aration of \imous alloys, ;is bronze or bell- 
met.-il, composed of copper and tin in vari- 
able proportions, commonly of TS p.vts of 
copper, and i!:? of tin ; gun-metal, copper 90, 
and tin 10; pewter, of various proportions 
of tin and lead, or when designed for pewter 
plates, of tin 100, antimony 8, bismuth i, 
and copper 2 ; :md soft solder, consisting of 
tin and lead, usually of two parts of the 
fi>rmer to one of the latter. Bismuth is 
sometimes added to increase the fusibility 
of the allov. 



CH-VPTER IX. 

WAL. 

To the early settlers of the Americiin colo- 
nies the beds of mineral coal they met with 
wen? of no interest. In the abundance of the 
forests aniund them, and with no manufac- 
turinj operations that involved l.^rge con- 
sumption of fuel, they attached no v:ilue to 
the bliick stony coal, the real importance of 
which w.as not in fact appreciated even in 



Europe until after the invention of the steam 
engine. The e.irliest use of niiner.d coal was 
probably of the anthracite of the Lehigh re- 
gion, though it may be that the James River 
bituminous coal mines, 12 miles above Rich- 
mond, were worked at an earlier period than 
the Pennsylvania anthi-.icitcs. The region 
containing the latter belonged to the tribes 
of the Six Nations, until their title w.ts ex- 
tinguished and the proprietary government 
obtained possession, in 1 740, of a territory 
of 3750 square miles, including the southern 
and middle of the three anthracite coal-tields 
In 1 76S possession was acquired of the north- 
ern eoal-tield, and at the same time of the 
great bituminous region west of the Alle- 
ghany mountains. The existence of coal in 
the anthracite region could not have escaped 
the notice of the whites who had explored 
the country, for its great beds were exposed 
in many of the n.itural sections of the river 
banks and precipitous hills, and down the 
mountain streams pieces of co;il, washed out 
from the beds, were .abundantly scattered. 
The oldest maps now known, dating as far 
back as 1770, and compiled from still older 
ones, designate in this region localities of 
" coal ;"' but these were probably not re- 
garded as giving any additional value to the 
territorv. The first recorded notice of its 
use was in tlie northern basin by some black- 
smiths in 1770, only two years after the 
whites came in possession; and in 1775 a 
boat load of it w.as sent down from "W'ilkes- 
barre t.> the Continental .armory- at Car- 
lisle. This was two years after the laying 
out of the borough of Wilkesbarre by the 
Susquehanna Land Company of Connecti- 
cut, From this time the coal continued to 
be used for mechanical operations by smiths, 
distillers, etc.: and according to numerous 
certificates from the-^. published in 1S15, 
in a pamphlet by Mr. Z;iehariah Cist of 
Wilkesbarre. they had found it very much 
better for their purposes, and more econom- 
ical to use than Virginia bituminous coal, 
tliough at the enormous price of 90 cents 
a bushel. Gunsmiths found it very conven- 
ient for their small fires, and one of them, 
diiting his certificate December 9, 1814, 
stated that he had used it for 20 years, con- 
sumin<r .tbout a pec"k a day to a fire, which 
was sufficient for manufacturing S musket- 
barrels, each barrel thus requiring a quart 
of coal. Oliver Evans, the inventor of the 
steam engine, certifies in the same pamphlet 
to his having used it for raising steam, for 



COAL. 



121 



which it possessed properties superior to those 
of any otlier fuel. Judge Foil of Wilkos- 
barrc applii'd it to warmine; houses in 1808, 
and contrived suitable ffrates for this use of 
it ; but the cheapness of wood and the 
greater convenience of a fuel which every 
one understood how to use, long prevented 
its general adoption. In the first volume 
of the " Memoirs of the Historical Society 
of Pennsylvania," T. C. James, M.D., gives 
"a brief account of the discovery of anthra- 
cite coal on the Lehigh," in which ho de- 
scribes a visit he made to the Mauch Chutdv 
mountain in 1804, where ho saw the immense 
bod}' of anthracite, into which several small 
pits had then been sunk, and which was 
afterward worked, as it is still, as an open 
qnarr}'. He states that he commenced to 
burn the coal that year, and had continued 
to use it to the time of making this commu- 
nication in 182G. The discovery of this fa- 
mous mass of coal was made in 1791, and 
in 1793 the " Lohigh Coal Mine Company" 
was forme<l to work it. But as there were 
no facilities for transporting the coal down 
the valley of the Lehigh, nothing was done 
until 1814, when, at groat labor and expense, 
20 tons were got down the river and were 
delivered in Pliiladelphia. Two years be- 
fore this a few wagon loads had been re- 
ceived there from the Schuylkill mines; but 
the regular trade can hardly be said to have 
commenced until 1820, when the receipts in 
Philadelphia amounted to 365 tons. Such 
was the commencement of the great anthra- 
cite trade of Pennsylvania, which in the 
course of 45 years has been steadily in- 
creasing, till it now reaches the enormous 
amount of l.'J,.3r>8,437 tons for the year 1867, 
and sustains numerous branches of metallur- 
gical and mechanical industry, the possible 
dependence of which upon this fuel and 
source of power was hardly dreamed of 
when its mines were tirst opened. 

The existence of bituminous coal west of 
the AUeghanies was probably known as early 
as was that of anthracite in the eastern part 
of Pennsylvania; and on the western rivers 
it could not fail to have been noticed by the 
early missionaries, voyageurs, and hunters. 
In the old maps of 1770 and 1777 the oc- 
currence of coal is noted at several points 
on the Ohio. A tract of coal land was taken 
up in 1785 near the present town of Clear- 
field, on the head-waters of the west branch 
of tlie Susquehanna, by Mr. S. Boyd, and in 
1804 he sent an ark load of the coal down 



the Susquehanna to Columbia, Lancaster 
county, which, ho states, caused much sur- 
prise to the inhabitants, that "an article with 
wliich they were wholly unacquainted should 
be thus brought to their own doors." This 
was the commoncoraent of a trade which has 
since boon prosecuted to some extent by 
running rafts of timber loaded with coal, and 
sometimes with pig iron also, from the head- 
waters to the lower portion of the Susque- 
hanna. The bituminous coal mines on the 
James River, 12 miles above Richmond, in 
Virginia, wore also worked during the last 
century, but at how early a period we are 
ignorant. In an account of them in the first 
volume of the " American Journal of Sci- 
ence," published in 1818, they are spoken 
of as already having boon worked 30 years. 

VARIETIES OF COAL. 

The mineral coals are found of various 
sorts, which are distinguished by peculiari- 
ties of appearance, composition, and proper- 
ties. Derived from vegetable matters, they 
exhibit in their varieties the successive chang- 
es which these have undergone from the 
condition of peaty beds or deposits of lig- 
neous materials — first into the variety known 
as brown coal or lignite, in which the bitu- 
minous property appears, while the fibre 
and structure of the original woody masses 
is fully retained ; next in beds of bituminous 
coal comprised between strata of shales, fire- 
clay, and sandstones ; and thence through 
several gradations of diminishing proportions 
of bitumen to the hard stony anthracite, the 
composition of which is nearly pure carbon; 
and last of all in this series of steps attend- 
ing the conversion of wood into rock, the 
vegetable carbon is locked up in the miner- 
al graphite or plumbago. These steps are 
clearly traceable in nature, and in all of them 
the strata which include the carbonaceous 
beds have undergone corresponding changes. 
The clayey substratum that supports the 
peat appears under the beds of mineral coal 
in the stony material called firo-clay (used 
when ground to make fire-brick) ; the 
muddy sediments such as are found over 
some of the groat modern peat deposits, ap- 
pear in the form of black shales or slates, 
which when pulverized return to their muddy 
consistency ; the beds of sand, such as are 
met with in some of the peat districts of 
Europe interstratified with difi'erent peat 
beds, are soon in the coal-measures in beds 
of sandstones ; and the limestones which also 



122 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



occur in the same group of strata, represent 
ancient beds of calcareous marls. The slow 
progression of these changes is indicated by 
the different ages of the geological formations 
in which the several varieties occur. Beds 
of peat are of recent formation, though 
some of them are still so old, that they are 
found at different depths, one below another, 
separated by intervening layers of sand, 
cla}', and earth. Brown coal, or lignite, is 
commonlj' included among the strata of 
the tertiary period ; the bituminous coals 
are in the secondary formations; and the an- 
thracites, though contained in the same ge- 
ological group with the great bituminous 
coal formation, are in localities where the 
strata have all been subjected to the action 
of powerful agents which have more or less 
metamorphosed them and expelled the vola- 
tile bitumen from the coal. The graphite or 
plumbago is in still older groups, or in those 
which liave been still more metamorphosed 
by heat. 

All these varieties of fossil fuel are found 
in the United States. Peat beds of small 
extent are common in the northern portion 
of the country, and in some parts of New 
England are nmch used for fuel, and the 
muck, or decomposed peat, as a fertilizer to 
the soil. In the great swamps of southern 
Virginia, the (Jarolinas, and Georgia, vegeta- 
ble depositsof similar nature are found upon 
a scale more commensurate with the extent 
of the ancient coal-beds. Lignite is not 
found in workable beds, as in some parts of 
Germany and England, but in scattered de- 
posits of small extent among the tertiary 
clays, chiefly near the coast of New Jersey, 
Delaware, and Maryland, and in the west- 
ern territories. The distribution of the true 
coal formations will be pointed out after des- 
ignating more particularly the characters of 
tlic different coals All of these consist of 
the elements carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, .and 
nitrogen; the carbon being in part free, 
and in part combined with the other ele- 
ments to form the volatile compounds that 
exist to some extent in all coals. Earthy 
matters which form the ash of coals are al- 
ways intermixed in some proportion with 
the combustible ingredients, and water, also, 
is present. When coals are analyzed for 
the purpose of indicating their heating qual- 
ity by their composition, it is enough to de- 
termine the proportions of fixed carbon, of 
Tolatile matter, and of ash which they con- 
tain. How the combined carbon, hydrogen, 



oxygen, and the little nitrogen in their com- 
position, may be distributed in the forms of 
carburetted hydrogen, ammonia, the bitu- 
minous oils, etc., cannot be ascertained by 
analysis, as the means employed to separate 
most of these compounds cause their ele- 
ments to form other combinations among 
themselves: the determination of the ulti- 
mate proportions of all the elements would 
serve no pr.actical purpose. So, if it bo re- 
quired to prove the fitness of any coal for 
art'ording illuminating gas, or the coal oils, it 
must be submitted to experiments having 
such objects only in view ; and even their 
capacity for generating heat is better deter- 
mined by comparative experiments in evapo- 
rating water, than by any other mode. The 
bituminous coals are characterized by their 
large proportion of volatile matter, which, 
when they are heated, is expelled in various 
inflammable compounds, that take fire and 
burn, accompanied by a dense, black smoke 
and a peculiar odor known as bituminous. 
If the operation is conducted without access 
of air, .as in a closed platinum crucible, the 
fixed carbon remains behind in the form of 
coke ; and by removing the cover to admit 
air, this may next be consumed, and the re- 
siduum of ash be obtained. By several J 
weighings the proportions are indicated. ' 
Coals containing IS per cent, or more of 
volatile matter are classed among the bi- 
tuminous varieties ; but as the proportion of 
this may amount to 70 per cent, or more, 
there is necessarily a considerable difference 
in the characters of these coals, though their 
most m.arked peculiarities are not always 
owing to the difterent amounts of volatile 
matter they contain. Thus, some sorts, called 
the " fat I ituminous," and "caking coals," 
that melt and run together in burning, and 
are especiallv suit.able for making coke, con- 
tain about the same proportion of volatile 
matter with the "dry coals," as some of the 
canni I and other varieties, which burn with- 
out melting, and do not make good coke. 
Other varieties are especially distinguished 
for their largo proportion of volatile ingre- 
dients; such are the best cannels, and those • 
light coals which have sometimes been mis- 
taken for asphaltum, as the Albert coal of 
the province of New Brunswick. These va- 
rieties are eminently qu.alified for producing 
gas or the coal oils; but have little fixed car- 
bon, and consequently can produce little 
coke. Coals that contain from 11 to 1 8 per 
cent, volatile matter, are known as semi-bi- 



123 



tuminous, and partake both of the qualities 
of the true bituminous coals, in igniting and 
burning freely, and of the anthracite in the 
condensed and long-continued heat they 
produce. The Maryland coals, and the Ly- 
kens valley coal of Pennsylvania, are of 
this character. The true anthracites con- 
tain from 2 to 6 per cent, of gaseous mat- 
ters, which by heat are evolved in carbu- 
retted hydrogen and water, even when the 
coal has been first freed from the water me- 
chanically held. Their greatest proportion 
of solid carbon is about 95 per cent. There 
remains a class which has been designated 
as semi-anthracite, containing from 6 to 11 
per cent, of combustible volatile matter. 
These coals burn with a yellowish flame, un- 
til the gas derived from the combination of 
its elements is consumed. 

The earthy ingredients in coals, forming 
their ash, are derived from the original wood 
and from foreign substances introduced 
among the collections of ligneous matters 
that make up the coal-beds. The ash 
is unimportant, excepting as the material 
which produces it takes tiie place of so much 
combustible matter. In some coals, espec- 
ially those of the Schuylkill region, it is red, 
from the presence of oxide of iron, and in 



others it is gray, as in the Lehigh coals. 
This distinction is used to designate some 
of the varieties of anthracite ; but the qual- 
ity of these coals is more dependent on the 
quantity of the ash, than on its co\i>t. From 
numerous analyses of the Schuylkill red ash 
coals an average of 7.29 per cent, of ash 
was obtained, and of the white ash anthracite, 
4.02 per cent. Coals producing red ash are 
more likely to clinker in burning than those 
containing an equal amount of white ash. 
In some varieties of coal the proportion of 
earthy matter is so great that the substance 
approaches the character of the bituminous 
shales, and may be called indifferently ei- 
ther shale or coal. Though such materials 
make but poor fuel, some of them have 
proved very valuable from the large amount 
of gas and of oily matters thev afford. The 
most remarkable of this class is that known 
as the Boghead cannel. This is largely 
mined near Glasgow, in Scotland, and is im- 
ported into New York to be used in the 
manufacture of coal oil. It is a dull black, 
stony-looking substance, having little resem- 
blance to the ordinary kinds of coal. Its 
composition is given for comparison with 
that of other coals, in the following ta- 
ble :— 



g 

< ^ 



Localities. Authority. 8P''<^i«o 

•' Gravity. 

Shenowlth Vein, Penn H. D. Rogers 1.50 

Peacii .Mountain, I'cnu. ; mean of 40 analyses W. K. Johnson 1.46 

Lackawanna 

Heaver Meadow 

I Price's Mountain, Montgomery Co., Virglfiia.. 

Portsmouth. Khode Island 

Mansfield, Mass 



Atkinson's and Templenian's, Maryland ; aver- ( 

age of 2 specitiiens j 

George's Creek. Maryland 

'Pittsburg, Pennsylvania 

i'annelton, Indiana 

Black Heath, .lames River, Virginia 

Monroe Co., S. Illinois 

La Salle Co., N Illinois 

Albert Coal, New Orunswick 

Grayson (Ky.) cannel 

Breckenridge (Ky.) cannel 

Boghead, black cannel 

_ Boghead, brown . , 



.W. E. Johnson 1.43 

1.66 

.A. H. Everett 1.31 

.Dr. C. T. Jackson... 1.85 
1.69 

W. E. Johnson I.SIS 

1.3S 



.B. Silliman, jr.... 
. VV. R. Johnson.. 



. 1.272 



.J. O. Norwood 1.246 

" 1.23T 

.B.Sillimsn, Jr 1.129 

1.8T1 

" 1.150 

.Dr. Penny 1.213 

" 1.160 



Carbon. 



94.10 
86.09 



8S.9S 
91.64 
89.25 
85.84 
87.40 

76.69 

70.75 

64.72 
69.47 
58.79 
58.70 
55.10 
86.04 
14.36 
27.16 
9.25 
7.10 



"Water and 

other 

Vol. Mat. 

1.40 
6.96 

6 36 
6.S9 
2.44 
10.50 
6.20 



16.03 

82 95 
36.59 
82.57 
36. '20 
39.90 
61.74 
62.l.;3 
64.30 
62 70 
71.06 



Ashes. 



4.50 
6.9S 

4.66 
1.47 
8.80 
8.66 
6.40 

T.83 

13.23 

2.S1 
3.94 
8.64 
4.50 
3.00 
2.22 
23.62 
8.43 
26.50 
26.20 



A complete description of the coals, such 
as may be found in the Report of Prof. 
Walter R. Johnson (Senate Document, 28th 
Congress, No. 386), and presented, in a 
condensed form, in Johnson's Edition of 
" Knapp's Chemical Technology," presents 
many other features affecting the qualities 
of the coals, and their adaptation to special 
uses. Such are — 1, their capacity for raising 



steam quickly ; 2, for raising it abundantly 
for the quantity used; 3, freedom from 
dense smoke in their combustion; 4, freedom 
from tendency to crumble in handling ; 5, 
capacity, by reason of their density, and the 
shapes assumed by their fragments, of close 
stowage ; and 6, freedom from sulphur. The 
last is an important consideration, affecting 
the value of coals proposed for use in th« 



124 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



iron manufacture, sulphur, wliich is often 
present in coal in the form of sulphuret of 
iron, having a ver}' injurious effect upon the 
iron with which it is brought in contact 
when heated. It is again to be cautiously 
guarded against in selecting bituminous 
coals to be employed in steam navigation ; 
for by the heat generated by spontaneous 
decomposition of the iron pyrites, the eas- 
ily ignited bituminous coals may be readily 
set on lire. This phenomenon is of frequent 
occurrence in the waste heaps about coal 
mines, and large bodies of coal stored in 



yards and on board ships have been thus 
inflamed, involving the most disastrous con- 
sequences. In stowage capacity coals dif- 
fer greatly, and this should be attended to 
in selecting them fur use in long voyages. 
Tendency to crumble involves Avaste. Dense 
smoke in consuming is objectionable in coals 
required for vessels-of-war iu actual service, 
as it must expose their position when it may 
be important to conceal it. The following 
table was prepared by Prof Johnson to pre- 
sent some of the general results in these 
particulars of his experiments : — 



GENERAL SCALE OF UELATIVE TALDES FORMED FROM THE AVERAGES OF EACH CLASS OF COAL 

SUBJECTED TO TRIAL. 
1. 

Maryland free-burning coals 1000 

Pennsylvania anthracite 977 

Pennsylvania bitnniinons 951 

Virginia (James River) bituminous 850 

Foreign bituminous 801 



2. 


8. 


4. 


6. 


1000 


395 


880 


682 


986 


1000 


893 


319 


938 


390 


1000 


914 


757 


242 


948 


730 


741 


331 


948 


1000 



Column 1 gives the relative evaporative 
powers of equal weights of the coals ; 2, 
the same of equal bulks ; 3, their relative 
freedom from tendency to clinker ; 4, rapid- 
ity of action in evaporating water ; 5, facil- 
ity of ignition, or readiness with which 
steam is gotten up. The general results of 
experience in use, as well as of special trials 
systematically conducted upon a large scale, 
agree in these particulars — that while the 
bituminous coals are valuable for the greater 
variety of uses to which the}' are applica- 
ble, and especially for ail purposes requiring 
flame and a diffusive heat, as under large 
boilers ; and while they are quickly brought 
into a state of combustion, rendering the 
heat they produce more readily available ; 
the anthracites afford a more condensed and 
lasting heat, and are to be preferred in many 
metallurgical operations, especially where 
great intensity of temperature is required. 
And for many purposes, the free-burning, 
semi-bituminous coals, which combine the 
useful properties of both varieties, are found 
most economical in use. 

GEOLOGICAL AND GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBU- 
TION. 

The United States is supplied with coal 
from a number of coal-fields belonging to 
what are called the true coal-measures, or 
the carboniferous group, a series of strata 
sometimes amounting, in aggregate thick- 
ness, to 2000 and even 300o" feet, and 
whether found in this country or in Europe, 
readily recognized by the resemblance in 



the various members of its formation, its 
fossil organic remains, its mineral accompa- 
niments, and by its position relative to the 
other groups of rock which overlie and un- 
derlie it. The principal one of these fields 
or basins is that known as the Appalachian, 
which, commencing in the north-eastern 
part of Pennsylvania, stretches over nearly 
all the state west of the main Alleghany 
ridge, and takes in the eastern portion of 
Ohio, parts of Maryland, Virginia, Ken- 
tucky, Tennessee, the north-west corner of 
Georgia, and extends into Alabama as far as 
Tuscaloosa. Its total area, including a num- 
ber of neighboring basins, as those of the 
anthracite region to the east of the Alle- 
ghany ridge, which were originally a part of 
the same great field, is estimated at about 
70,000 square miles. A second great basin 
is that which includes the larger part of Il- 
linois, and the western portion of Indiana 
and of Kentucky. Its area is estimated at 
about 50,000 square miles ; the coal is bitu- 
minous, and largely charged with oil. 

The third coal field, now known as the 
Rocky Mnuntain Coal Field, is the largest 
in the world, embracing an area in .Noith 
America of 1, '250,000 s(|uare miles of'w'hich 
51.3,<i0o square miles is within the United 
States. It covers large areas in Texas, the 
Indian Territory, New Jlexico, Kansas, Ne- 
braska, Iowa, Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, 
and Colorado. The coal is semi-bituminous 
and of good quality. The coal of the Pa- 
cific Stales is mainly lignite, containing about 
50 per cent, of carbon, but on Vancouver's 




BALTiaoRK COUPAKY'S MINB, WILKESBARKE, PA. 




MAP OF THE ANTHRACITE RBGIOIH 
Copied by permission from Apr 



S C O A Z, 




NNS 



1 American Cyclopedia. 




THE GREAT OPEN QUARKY OF THE LEHIGH. 



In working this great quarry of anthracite at tlie Summit niiiic, aljore Mauch Chunk, Mocks of coal 
.\'ere occasionally left stantiing for a time, one of which, surmonuteil by the soil of the original surface and 
he relics of the vegetation, is represented in the aliove cut. In this block arc discerned the lines of strali- 
ication of the coal ; and an idea of its extraordinary thickness and extent is conveyed by the appearance of 
he cliffs upon the further side of tlie excavated area. Upon the floor of the quarry are seen the mining 
ivagona used for conveying away upon temporary tracks the coal and rulibish of the excavations. 



129 



■whole area of this field has been computed 
at 57,000 square miles ; but its limits have 
never been accurately defined. A fourth 
coal-field occupies the central portion of 
the southern peninsula of Michigan, its area 
being about 13,350 square miles. Several 
small beds of bituminous coal are worked in 
this district, but they have only local impor- 
tance. A fifth coal-field is that of Rhode Isl- 
and and south-eastern Massachusetts. The 
.strata of this district are considered as be- 
longing to the true coal-measures, although, 
from the nietamorphic action to which they 
have been subjected, their true character is 
very obscure. The)- contain a few beds of 
anthracite, very irregular in their dimen- 
sions, and much crushed. A number of 
mines have been opened, but the only one 
now worked is at Portsmouth, 8 miles 
north of Newport. In south-eastern Vir- 
ginia is a bituminous coal-field, lying on 
both sides of the James River, a few miles 
above Richmond. The strata which contain 
the coal-beds of this district are recognized 
as members of later formation than those of 
the true coal-measures, being classed with 
the geological group known as the oolite, 
or lias ; and the coal-beds of central North 
Carolina, on Deep River, probably belong to 
the same position in the geological column. 
Notwithstanding the limited area of this 
coal-field in Virginia, which is only about 25 
miles long and 8 to 10 miles wide, it has pro- 
duced for more than sixty years past large 
quantities of coal chiefly for the supply of iron 
manufacturing establishments, and the gas- 
works along the seaboard to the north. The 
strata of these coal-measures occupy a deep 
depression in the granitic rocks of this re- 
gion, attaining in the centre of the basin a 
thickness of nearly 2000 feet. They con- 
sist in great part of a micaceous sand- 
stone, and the two or three coal-beds are 
contained in the lower 150 feet. A great 
bed at the bottom, which in some places 
exceeds 40 feet in thickness, and in others 
dwindles away to 4 or 5 feet only, appears 
to have been deposited upon the uneven 
granitic floor, from which it is separated by 
only a few inches of slate. Shafts have been 
sunk near the east border of the coal-field to 
the depth of nearly 900 feet. The amount 
of coal obtained of late 3-ears does not prob- 
ably exceed 130,000 tons per annum. A 
singular phenomenon is observed at one 
point in this district, where a coal-bed is 
penetrated and overlaid by a body of trap- 



rock. The coal near this rock is converted 
into a mass of coke, resembling that artifi- 
cially produced, except that it is more com- 
pact and of a duller lustre. 

A large amount of bituminous coal has 
been brought to Boston and New York, for 
many years past, from a coal -field belonging 
to the true coal-measures, in Nova Scotia 
and Cape Breton. The same formation ex- 
tends into New Brunswick, and ranges along 
the western part of Newfoundland, and has 
been estimated as comprising in all an area 
of 9000 square miles. The productive por- 
tions, however, are limited to a few locali- 
ties upon the coast of Nova Scotia and 
Cape Breton, and at these, beds of great 
thickness have been opened, and worked to 
the depth of from 200 to 450 feet. At the 
Pictou mines, opposite the southern point 
of Prince Edward's Island, one bed is 29 
feet thick. Another bed, at the Albion 
mines, 84 miles from Pictou, aff"ords 24 feet 
of good coal, and 12 more of inferior quali- 
ty ; and in Sydney, Cape Breton, are beds of 
11 feet, 9 feet, and 6 feet, besides at least 
1 1 others of less thickness. At the South 
Joggins clifts, in Nova Scotia, the total 
thickness of all the strata of the coal-meas- 
ures was found by Mr. Logan to amount to 
14,571 feet, very much exceeding the thick- 
ness of the formation as observed in other 
places on the American continent. 

The strata which make up the coal forma- 
tion, the principal varieties of which have 
already been named, are regularly laid one 
upon another in no particular order, and 
amount in aggregate thickness to several 
thousand feet, rarely exceeding in the 
United States 3000 feet. Their thickness 
is ascertained by sections measured at dif- 
ferent localities, some giving one part of the 
column, and others other portions. In west- 
ern Pennsylvania the nearly horizontal beds 
of rock are often exposed in the sides of the 
precipitous hills, so that sections of several 
hundred feet may bo fully made up. Any 
peculiar member of the pile, as a bed of 
limestone, occurring near the top of the 
section, may be recognized in other locali- 
ties, where by the dip of the strata it is 
brought to the lower levels, and the hills 
above it then present the succession of the 
higher members of the column ; or if the 
layer taken as the starting point be in the 
one case at the base, it will be found in the 
direction of the rising of the strata, at higher 
and hicrher elevations, and the lower mem- 



"^^TTr. 



110 Gray »Dd buff 

micaceoua 8 1 a t y 

UodbtODe, 



6 Dark calcnreoos aJata. 
6 LiueetoDe. 



\ 66 Blue, buff, and 
i olivtt vbale*. 



18 Dark pray masuva 
Ban da tone. 



44 Sandatonea and 

Bhalti^ 



Limestone, thin. 



lis Y«llow shale. 
Hl4 Slaty sandstone. 
1 17 to 30 Buffshalea. 



3.6 Limestone. 

I Buff shale*. 

^^ 0.9 Coul 
/ ' •' 20 Sandslona, 
• /■_/ : 4 Shale. 
i 1 CoaL 



56 Shales, asDd- 
stones & limA- 

BtODe^ 



"'„-'- 2 Coal. 

L^^^ 4 Blue friable shala. 



^^ 6 AVayneaburg coaL 
Pg & Soft »hale. 



3S Gray sandstone. 



69 Variegated shale* 
and aaDdatona. 



0.4 Limestone. 

3 Limestone. 

15 Shale A aandstonfl. 

'J LinteHtone. 

18 Dark gruy shale. 
1 (.Vu.1. 

12 Shale A limestone. 
15 to 25 Thin bedded 
3 Limestone, [aandsln. 



42 Blue shale and 
aundstoutt. 



.0.10 Coal. 
Blue and buff shales 
13 Flaggy sandittonea. 




S Limestone. 
10 Shale. 

SO Flatly aandatoiNk 

10 Shale. 

18 Limestone. 

5 Black slate. 

18 Slaty sandatone. 

8 Black calcareoQ* 

alat«. 
16 Limestone. 

20 Shale. 

25 Gray slaty sand- 
■toae. 



35 Brown shale. 
14 Pittsburg coal. 



60 Shales, calcareoua 
aod arenaceous. 



f^^m 



60 to 70 Calcareous and 
abalv beds, slaty 
aamiiituue, Ac 



Green and olive ahklek 



150 to 200 Greenlak 
elate A sandstone. 



/■-> - "ii l" to U Gray mica- ^=^ 

'-'''■ - ''^i-l ceoua sandstone. ■ - • - 



«en, pnrole, • 
rown shale. 



I to & Limeatona. 

7^40 to 80 Sandstone A 
^ green shale. 



ssm 



70 to 1.10 Slates, shale^ 
and sandstones. 



3.6 Up'r Freeport coal. 
4 to 7 Limestone. 



W to 40 Slate and 
slaty aauilstone. 



3 Lower Freeport coat 
often cannel. 



60 to 60 Massive sand, 
stone. 



15 Slat«, shale, or sandi 
stone. 



3 to4 Kittanningcoal 

30 Slate, shale, oi 

siindatoiie. 
0.4 to 6 Iron ore, 
15 Ferriferous lime. 

30 Slate and shale. 



^* 3 to 4 Clarion coaL 



_, -^zi:""^ ;25 Slate and shale. 

i=t^' ' I . - I 

■MKMSiaBMi to 2 Itrookvillacoal. 



■77^ 



'^ih--- 



Mercer or lioneata co«l. ^ 
Coal 1.3 
Coal 1 
Cool 1.3 



60 to 60 Massive sand- 
elone. 



S to 1h Brown A black 

slxile. 
1 to4 

15 Shale and sand- 



16 Shale and sand- 

15 Shale and saiid- 
8 lone. 

15 Shale and sand- 
stone. 



100 Sandatone nnd 
conglomerate. 




20 Slaty sandstone. 
1 to 4 Sharon eoaL 



131 



bers of the column will then be brought 
into view at the base of the hills. Thus, at 
Pittsburg, the hills opposite the city afford 
a section of 300 or 400 feet, and the marked 
stratum is here the great coal-bed, which up 
the Alleghany river toward the north rises 
to higher and higher levels in the hills, and 
toward the south, up the Monongahela, sinks 
to lower levels, till it passes beneath the bed 
of the stream. By extending these obser- 
vations over the coal-field, it is found that 
the whole series of strata maintain their 
general arrangement, and the principal mem- 
bers of the group, such as an important coal- 
bed, a peculiar bed of limestone, etc., may be 
identifitd over areas of thousands of square 
miles. It is thus the sections have been pre- 
pared at many localities to complete the 
series, as presented on the opposite page, 
of the bituminous coal-measures of the ex- 
treme western part of Pennsylvania. The 
coal-beds introduced are those which are 
persistent over the greatest areas. Others 
occasionally appear in different parts of the 
column, and various other local difi'erences 
may be detected, owing to the irregularities 
in the stratification; thus sandstones and 
slates often thin out, and even gradually 
pass from one into the other. By their 
thinning out beds of coal separated by them 
in one locality may come together in another, 
and form one large bed ; and again, large coal- 
beds may be split by hardly perceptible di- 
visional seams of slate or shale, which maj- 
gradually increase, till they become thick 
strata, separating what was one coal-bed 
into two or more. The limestones, though 
generally thin, maintain their peculiar char- 
acters much better than the great beds of 
sandstone or shale, and are consequently 
the best guides for designating in the col- 
umns the position of the strata which ac- 
company them, above and below. The fire 
clay is almost universally the underlying 
stratum of the coal-beds. In the sections 
it is not distinguished from the shale-beds. 
The total thickness of all the measures, is 
from 2000 to 2500 feet. 

Such is the general system of the coal- 
bearinjr formation west of the Alledhan- 
ies. Every farm and every hill in the coal- 
field is likely to contain one or more beds 
of coal, of limestone, of good sandstone for 
building purposes, of fire clay, and some 
iron ore ; and below the surface, the series is 
continued down to the group of conglom- 
erates and sandstones, which come up 



around the margins of the coal-fields and 
define their limits. At Pittsburg this 
group, it is found by boring, as well as by 
the measurements of the strata in the hills 
toward the north, is about 600 feet below 
the level of the river. The coal-measures 
in this portion of the country are the high- 
est rock formation ; but in the western terri- 
tories beyond the Mississippi they pa.ss 
under later geological groups, as the creta- 
ceous and the tertiary. All the coals are 
bituminous, and the strata in which they are 
found are little moved from the horizontal 
position in which they were originally de- 
posited. They have been uplifted with the 
continent itself, and have not been subjected 
to any local disturbences, such as in other 
regions have disarranged and metamorphosed 
the strata. 

East of the AUeghanies, in the narrow, 
elongated coal-fields of the anthracite re- 
gion, a marked diflxjrence is perceived in the 
position assumed by the strata, and also ia 
the character of the individual beds. They 
evidently belong to the same geological se- 
ries as the bituminous coal-measures, and 
the same succession of conglomerates, sand- 
stones, and red shales, is recognized below 
them ; but the strata have been tilted at va- 
rious angles from their original horizontal 
position, and the formation is broken up and 
distributed in a number of basins, or canal- 
shaped troughs, separated from each other 
by the lower rocks, which, rising to the 
surface, form long narrow ridges outside of 
and around each coal-field. Those on each 
side being composed of the same rocks, sim- 
ilarly arranged, and all having been sub- 
jected to similar denuding action, a striking 
resemblance is observed, even on the map, 
in their outlines ; and in the ridges them- 
selves this is so remarkable that their shapes 
alone correctly suggest at once to those fa 
miliar with the geology of the country, the 
rocks of which they are composed. Upon 
the accompanying map, from the first vol. of 
the "New American Cyclopaedia," these ba- 
sins are represented by the shaded portions, 
and the long, narrow ridges which surround 
the basins, and meet in a sharp curve at their 
ends, are indicated by the groups of four 
parallel lines. Within the marginal hills 
the strata of the coal-measures, and of the 
underlying formations, while retaining their 
arrangement in parallel sheets, are raised 
upon their edges and thrown into undulat- 
ing lines and sharp flexures ; and the extrac- 



132 



MININO INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 




tion of the coal, instead of being con- 
ducted by levels driven into tbe side 
of tbe hills, is effected by means of 
inclined shafts following down the 
course of the beds from the surface, 
or by vertical slopes sunk so as to 
cut them at considerable depths. The 
arrangement of the strata in its gen- 
eral features is represented in the ac- 
companying wood cuts. Fig. 1 is a 
section from Sharp Mountain, on the 
south side of the Mauch Chunk sum- 
mit mine, across this great body of 
coal, and the higher coal-beds of the 
formation repeatedly brought to the 
surface by their changes of dip, to 
Locust Mountain, which bounds the 
basin on the north. Fig. 2 is a sec- 
tion across the same basin at Ta- 
maqua, six miles west from Mauch 
Chunk mine. In this section it is 
seen how the coal-measures are sepa- 
rated into basins by the lower rocks 
coming up to the surface and forming 
anticlinal axes. Fig. 3 represents the 
position of single beds, as they occur 
among the slates and sandstones, and 
the manner in which they are some- 
times reached by means of a tunnel 
driven in from the base of the hill. 
The curved portion of the coal at 
the top is formed by the coal-beds 
at their outcrop becoming disinte- ' 
grated, and their fragments and de- 
composed smut being spread down 
the slope of the hill. The Eoman 
numerals, "IX," "X," "XI," "XII," 
in fig. 2, designate the lower forma- 
tions of rock, known respectively as 
the red sandstones (corresponding to 
the "Old Red Sandstone"); a series of 
gray sandstones ; one of red shales ; and 
lastly, the conglomerate. The dotted lines 
above and below the section mark the con- 
tinuity of the conglomerate beneath the base 
of the section and its original course above 
the present surface before this portion had 
been removed by diluvial action. The other 




«5| 






SO 



v^ 



*! 
tj 






t 



formations obviously accompany the con- 
glomerate with sirail.ir flexures. 

The same cause, that threw the strata into 
their inclined and contorted positions, no 
doubt changed the character of the coal by 
dispelling its volatile portions, converting 
it in fact into coke, while the pressure 
of the superincumbent beds of rock pre- 



COAL. 



133 



vented the swelling up of the material, as 
occurs in the ordinary process of producing 
coke from bituminous coal, and caused it to 
assume the dense and compact structure of 
anthracite. As the anthracite basins are 
traced westward, it is observed that the 
coals in those districts which have been less 
disturbed, retain somewhat of the bitumin- 
ous character; and if the continuity were 
uninterrupted between the anthracite and 
the bituminous coal-fields, there is no doubt 
that a gradual passage would be observed 
from the one kind of coal to the other, and 
that this would be accompanied by an amount 
of disturbance in the strata corresponding 
to the degree in which the coal is deficient 
in bitumen. 

AMOUNT OF AVAILABLE COAL. 

In estimating the quantities of workable 
coal in any district, several points are to be 
taken into consideration besides the amount 
of surface covered by the coal-measures and 
the aggregate thickness of all the beds they 
contain. Out of the total number of coal- 
beds, there are more or less of them that 
must be excluded from the estimate, on ac- 
count of their being too thin to work. The 
great depth at which the lower beds in the 
central parts of the Appalachian coal-field 
lie must probably prevent their ever being 
worked ; but for this no allowance is ever 
made in the estimates of quantities of coal. 

The most careful and complete computa- 
tions of this nature which have been made 
are those of Professor H. D. Rogers, and of 
Mr. Bannan in the Coal Statistical Register 
for 1871. From these sources we obtain 
the following estimates : 

EXTENT OF COAL-FIELD IN THE SEVERAL STATES 
POSSESSING THE COAL FORMATION. 

Sq. miles. 

Massachusetts and Rhode Island 100 

Pennsylvania 12,656 

Ohio 7,100 

Maryland 550 



Virginia 15,900 

Kentucky 13,700 

Tennessee 3,700 

Alabama 6,130 

Georgia 170 

Indiana 6,700 

Illinois 40,000 

Michigan 13,350 

Iowa 24,000 

Missouri 21 ,329 

Nebraska 84,000 

Kansas 80,000 

Arkansas 12,597 

Indian Territory 40,000 

Texas 30,000 

New Mexico 20,000 

Wyoming 20,000 

Colorado 20,000 

Montana 74,000 

Dakota 100,000 



Total 650,862 

In the anthracite basins of Pennsylvania 
the number of workable beds varies from 2 
or 3 to 25, according to the depth of the 
basin ; the average number is supposed to be 
10 or 12. The maximum thickness of coal 
is in the Pottsville basin, and amounts to 
207 feet. Rejecting the thin seams, the 
average thickness in the south anthracite 
field is reckoned at 100 feet; in the middle 
or north field at about 60 feet ; and the gen- 
eral average of the whole, 70 feet. 

The maximum thickness of the 15 or 16 
coal-beds of the central part of the Appala- 
chian coal-field is about 40 feet, but the 
average of the whole basin is considered to 
be 25 feet. 

The basin extending over Illinois an^ 
into Indiana and Kentucky, contains in the 
last-named state 16 or 17 workable beds, 
with a maximum thickness of about 50 feet 
The average over the whole area is supposed 
to be 20 or 25 feet. 

The following estimates of the British. 
coal-fields are introduced for comparison. 
Extending these computations to Belgium 
and France also, the result of calculations of 
available coal supply, in 1870, are as follows : 



RELATIVE AMOUNT OF COAL IN THE SEVERAL GREAT COAL-FIELDS OF EUROPE AND AMERICA. 



Batio. 

Belgium (assuming an average thickness of about 60 fbet of coal) contains 

about 36,000,000,000 1 

France (with same thickness) contains about 59,000,000,000 1.64 

The British Islands (averaging 35 feet thickness) contain neariy 190,000,000,000 5.28 

Pennsylvania (averaging 25 feet thickness) contains 316,400,000,000 8.8 

The great Appalachian coalfield (including Pennsylvania, averaging 25 feet). 1,387,500,000,000 38.5 

Coal-field of Indiana, Illinois, and western Kentucky (average thickness 25 ft). 1,277,500,000,000 35.5 

The Rocky Mountain basin (averaging 30 feet) 3,739,000,000,000 10.29 

All the productive coal-fields of North America (with an assumed thickness 

of 20 feet of coal, and a productive area of 200,000 sq. miles) 6,720,400,000,000 186. 

AH the coal-fields of Europe 8.75 

The following table contains the yearly I States, from the commencement of the trtwie 
returns of the coal product of the United I in 1820 : 



5?d 



Total consumption of Anthracite and Bituminous Coal in the 
United States. 



Illlfl I 

ililli § 






Aggregate of Bituminous mined in otlier portions of the United gg|gg| g 
States, not included in this table. .- - ' - - 



KO O 



^11 


SS 2 -OS 5 S3 3 "5 




2T,298 
88,110 
136,278 
6;i, 19;i 
417,9,0 
890,630 
397.210 
667,517 

218,801 




^Z ^''"-•«-"'«-" 


1 




S5 


"s'SBiiSil's 


uMimm 


i.gsp.p.p.si 

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21,109.575 

5,477.025 
5,y31,63h 

7, 552,99(5 
7,849,085 
7.810,810 
7.976, IMU 
9,026,682 


67.248,670 
10.236, 17t. 
9.S76,017 
9,706,771. 
11,883,36;". 
1 2,599, 9tl 
12.110,92;: 
15,455,581 
15,b«fi,77; 
17.545,0»i 
18,308,31t 


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136 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATICS. 



TRANSPORTATION OF COAL TO MARKET. 

The first anthracite from the Schuylkill 
mines was brought to Philadelphia in wag- 
ons. The navigation of the river and canal 
was hardly practicable for boats previous to 
the year 1822; and though from that year 
anthracite was conveyed to Philadelphia and 
the trade continued to increase, it was not 
until 1825 that a large amount of coal could 
be transported by this route. The effect of 
these improvements was experienced in the 
transportation of 6,500 tons in 1825 ; in 1826 
it increased to 16,763. As for successive 
years the trade steadily and rapidly increased 
in importance, the capacity of the canal 
proved at last insufficient for it, and the 
Reading railroad was laid out for its accom- 
modation, and constructed with a uniform 
descending grade from the mining region at 
Pottsville to the Delaware river. It was 
opened in 1841, and proved a formidable 
competitor to the Schuylkill canal, but the 
increasing trade has surpassed the capacity 
of both these routes. Other lines have been 
constructed, till now there are six or seven 
railroads engaged almost exclusively in the 
transportation of the anthracite and semi- 
anthracite coals from the mines. 

As seen by the table, the first shipments 
of anthracite were from the Lehigh region, 
two years before any were sent from the 
Schuylkill. The transportation was effected 
by arks or large boxes built of plank, and 
run down the rapid and shoal river with no 
little risk. To return with them was im- 
practicable, nor was this desired, for the 
arks themselves were constructed of the 
product of the forests, which in this form 
was most conveniently got to market. As 
the coal trade increased in importance, the 
Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company, to 
insure greater facility in running the arks, 
constructed dams across the shoaler places 
in the river, by which the water was held 
back, thus increasing the depth above. As 
the arks coming down the river reached one 
of these dams, the sluice gates were opened 
and the boats descended to the next dam be- 
low. At first two arks were connected to- 
gether by hinges at the ends ; subsequently 
more were tlms joined together, till they 
reached nearly 200 feet in length. In 1831 
the slack-water navigation of the Lehigh 
was so far perfected, that it was used by 
canal boats ascending and descending through 
regular locks. 

Up to the year 1827 the transportation 



of anthracite to Mauch Chunk, nine mOes 
from the mines, was by wagons. The Mauch 
Chunk road, completed in May, 1827, was 
made with a descending grade, averaging 
about 100 feet to the mile, so tliat the loaded 
cars ran down by gravity. Each train car- 
ried down with it in cars appropriated to 
this use the mules for drawing the empty 
cars back ; and it is stated that after the 
animals once became accustomed to the rou- 
tine of their duties they could never be made 
to travel down the road if accidentally left 
behind. The trade before many years out- 
grew these increased facilities of transport- 
ing the coal, and it was found essential to 
return the empty cars by some more econom- 
ical method. On account of the heavy up- 
grade, locomotives, it was concluded, could 
not be advantageously employed, and hence 
a system of inclined planes and gravity 
roads was devised, by which the cars hoisted 
by stationary power to the summit of the 
planes and thence descending the gravity 
roads might be returned to the mines. In 
the accomjianying sketches a part of this ar- 
rangement of roads is exhibited. 

The high hill called Mount Pisgah, above 
the village of Mauch Cluuik, is the terminat- 
ing point at the Lehigh river of the long 
ridge called Sharp Mountain. The lower 
road seen in the sketch is called the loaded 
track. The cars come by this from the 
mines,and being letdown the inclined plane 
at its terminus, their loads are discharged in- 
to the great bins over the edge of the i iver. 
They are then hauled a short distance to the 
foot of the long plane that reaches to the 
summit of Mount Pisgah, and by the sta- 
tionary steam engine are drawn up in about 
six minutes to an elevation 850 feet above 
that at the foot. The length of this plane 
is 2250 feet. From its summit the empty 
cars run down the inclined road constructed 
along the south side of the ridge, and at the 
distance of six miles, having descended about 
300 feet, they reach the foot of another in- 
clined plane at Mount Jefferson. This plane 
is 2070 feet long, rising 462 feet. The as- 
cent is accomplished in three minutes, and 
from the top another gravity road extends 
about a mile, descending 44 feet to the Sum- 
mit Hill village. From this point branch 
roads lead to the different mines in Panther 
Creek valley, and all meet again in the 
loaded track road by which the cars return 
to Mauch Chunk. 

The transportation of coal from Mauch 
Chunk was conduct id by the river and canal 




MOUNT PISGAH PLANE, MADCH CHUNK, Pa. 




COLLIERY SLOPE AND B. EAKER AT TUSCAROKA, PA. 



COAL. 



139 




MOUNT PISGAU PLANES AND THE GKAVITY RAILKOAD, MAUCH CHDSK. 



exclusively until the partial construction of 
the Lehiffh railroad in 1846. But it was 
not until its completion in 1855, that this 
began to be an important outlet of the coal 
region and a powerful competitor for the 
trade with the canal. 

A considerable amount of anthracite finds 
a market on the borders of Chesapeake Bay, 
being transported from the mines near the 
Susquehanna river by the Susquehanna tide- 
water canal, and by the Northern Central 
railroad. Its consumption is extending in 
this region by its use in the blast furnaces 
in the place of charcoal, for smelting iron 
ores, and the receipts of this fuel in the city 
of Baltimore are about one-si.xth of those of 
the semi-bituminous coals of the Cumber- 
land region, which are brought to the city 
by the Baltimore and Ohio railroad and the 
canal. The receipts during the years named 
below were as follows : 



1857. 
Tons. 

Bituminous 443,782 

Anthracite 267,334 



1860. 

Tons. 
897,684 
325,129 



18C9. 1870. 

Tons Tons. 

1,882,619 1,717,075 
270,240 305,494 



701,116 722,813 2,152,909 2.022,571 



The principal outlet of the Northern coal- 
field had been from 1829 to 1850 by the 
Delaware and Hudson canal. Since 1847 
there have been taken every year to the 
Hudson river by this route from about 
44",0U0 to 499,650 tons, except in 18.55, 
when the quantity was 565,460 tons. A 
number of railroads now connect this basin 
with the central railroad across northern 
New Jersey, and in other directions it is 
connected both by railroad and canals with 
the Erie railroad to the North and the Sus- 
quehanna river to the South-west. As large 
an amount of coal is now transported over 
each one of three of these lines as by the 
Delaware and Hudson canal. 

The various railroads and canals which 
have been constructed with especial refer- 
ence to the transportation of anthracite, are 
more than 48 in number, and have cost 
over $260,000,000. Most of them are pre- 
sented in the following table; of some of 
them only those portions which may fairly 
be counted as constructed for coal pur- 
poses : — 



140 



MINING INDUSTRY OK THE UNITED STATES. 



Name.s of railroads and canals. 



Canals. 
No. miles. 

Leliij^h Navigation , 87 

L lii;;!! an i Susquehanna railroad and branches 

M incli Cluiiik and Siunnii: railroads 

Dijlaw.irv' division of the l\iiusylvania canal 43 

B aver Meadow railroad and Ijranch 

H.i/.leton railroad 

Philadelphia and Krie railroad 

Summit railroad 

L'ihinli Valley railroad and branches 

Dclaw irj aid Hudson canal lOS 

Morris c mal 1 02 

Tlu Schuylkill Navigation 108 

II ading railroad and branches 

Sliamiikin and Pottsville Valley railroad and branch 

Little Scluiylkill railroad 

Dniville and I'ottsville railroad (44^ miles unfinished) 

Mine Hill and Schuylkill Haven railroad and branches 

Mount Carbon railroad and branches 

Port Carbon railroad and branches 

Schuylkill Valley railroad and branches 

Mill Creek railroad and branches 

Lvkens Valley railroad , 

Wieonisco canal 12 

Swat ira railroad 

North Branch canal 163 

Union canal and Pine Grove branch 90 

Schuylkill and Susquehanna railroad 

Northern Central railroad 

Pennsylvania railroad and branches 338 

Sns(|uehanna tidewater canal 45 

York and Cumberland railroad 

Cumberland Valley railroad 

Franklin railroad 

Nesquchoning railroad 

Room Run railway 

Delaware, Lackawanna, and Western railroad 

Lackawanna and Bloonisburg railroad 

North Pennsvlvania 

Catawissa, WiUiamsjiort, and Erie railroad 

Elmira and Williamsport 

Pennsylvania Coal Company's railro.id 

New Jersey Central railroad 

Railroads by individuals 

Other coal railroads 



Railroads. 
No. miles, 

193 
36 

38 
20 

288 

2 

238 



153 
34 
32 
34 

143 
13 
14 
30 
32 

215 



55 
142 



44 

81 

45 

28 

6 

116 

82 

66 

68 

78 

63 

1.34 

120 

1117 



Total cost, 

$4,455,000 
13,570,595 
831,684 
1,734,958 
360,000 
253,000 
20,000,000 
60,000 
20,000,000 
3,2.50,000 
4,000,000 
5,785,000 
29,822,729 
1,569.450 
1,466,187 
1,895,000 
3,775,000 
203,260 
282,350 
576,0.50 
323,375 
975,868 
370,000 
41,780 
3,790,310 
1 ,000,000 
1,300,000 
12,400,000 
29,761,5.33 
1,000,000 
3,300,000 
1,692,111 
1,643,128 
500,000 
40,000 
13,988,876 
3,753,130 
6,669,991 
3,745,096 
2,692,000 
2,745,500 
18,034,675 
1,180,000 
37,500,000 



Total L096 3,746 $261,435,646 



COAL MINING. 



Coal-beds are discovered and worked by 
different methods, varying according to the 
circumstances under which they occur. In 
regions where they lie among the piles of 
strata horizontally arranged, and passing 
with the other members of the group upon 
a level or nearly so through the hills, their 
exact position is often detected by their ex- 
posure in the precipitous walls of rock along 
the livers ; or it is indicated by peculiar in- 
dentations, known as "benches," around their 
line of outcrop, caused by their crumbling 
and wearing away more rapidly than the 
harder strata above and below them ; and 
again by the recurrence of springs of water 



and wet places at the foot of the benches, 
which point to an impervious stratum with- 
in the hill that prevents the water percolat- 
ing any further down ; and lastly, in the 
little gorges worn by the " runs," the beds 
are often uncovered, and loose pieces of coal 
washed down lead to their original source 
above. However discovered, the method of 
working them is simple. A convenient place 
is selected upon the side of a hill, and an ex- 
cavation called a drift, usually about four 
feet wide, is made into the coal-bed. The 
height of the drift is governed by the thick- 
ness of the coal-bed and the nature of the 
overlying slate. Miners sometimes work in 
drifts only 2^ feet high. Coal-beds three or 
four feet thick are very common, and are 



COAL. 



141 



worked without the necessity of removing the 
overhanging slate, unless it is too unsound 
to serve as a roof. Beds of ten feet thick- 
ness or more require much additional care 
over those of smaller size, both in removing 
the coal and supporting the roof; and in 
many cases it is found expedient to leave a 
portion of the bed, either at the top or bot- 
tom, untouched, especially if the upper lay- 
ers contain, as they often do, sound sheets of 
slate. At the entrance of the mines, and in 
general in all places where the cover is not 
sound, the materials overhead are prevented 
from falling by timbers across the top of the 
drifts, rudely framed into posts set up against 
the walls on each side ; and where the strata 
are very loose, slabs are driven in over tlie 
cross timbers and behind the posts. In such 
ground the coal cannot be excavated over 
large areas without leaving frequent pillars 
of coal and introducing great numbers of 
posts or props. But previous to abandon- 
ing the mine the pillars may be removed, 
commencing with those furthest in, and all 
the strata above arc thus allowed to settle 
gradually down. When drifts or gangways 
have been extended into the coal-beds far 
enough to be under good cover, branches 
arc commenced at right angles, and a system 
of chambers is laid fiut for excavation, leav- 
ing sufficient blocks or pillars of coal to pro- 
vide for the support of the overlying strata. 
Thus the work is carried on, ventilation be- 
ing secured by connections made within the 
hill with gangways passing out in different 
directions, and sometimes also by shafts 
sunk from the surface above, or, when those 
means are not practicable, by ventilating 
fans worked by hand, and thus forcing air 
through long wooden boxes which lead into 
the interior of the mine. Drainage is often 
a serious trouble, ami unless the strata slope 
toward the outlet of the mine, it can be ef- 
fected only by a channel cut to the required 
depth for the water to flow out, or else by 
the use of pumping machinery. When the 
strata lie nearly upon a horizontal plane, it 
is very common for a slight descent to be 
found from the exterior of a hill toward its 
centre, as if the beds of rock had been com- 
pressed and settled by their greater weight 
in the middle of the hill. In such positions 
the coal is extracted with much expense for 
drainage, and it is therefore an important 
consideration in judging of the value of coal- 
beds to ascertain whether or no the water 
will flow freely out from the excavations. In 



the bituminous coal-fields west of the Alle- 
ghanies, owing to the general distribution of 
the coal-beds above the level of the water- 
courses, it has not yet been found worth 
while to work any of the beds that are 
known to lie below this level. Coal must 
reach a much higher value before beds of 
the moderate size of those in that region can 
be profitably explored below water level. 

It is rare that bituminous coal is obtained 
by open quarrying. Where the beds lie 
near the surface, so that they might be un- 
covered, the coal is almost invariably in a 
rotten condition and worthless. Conse- 
quently one of the first points to be assured 
of in judging of the value of a coal-bed is 
that it has sufticient rock cover. After this 
may be considered the quality of the coal, 
its freedom from sulphur, etc., the sound- 
ness of its roof, and the facilities oft'ered for 
drainage and ventilation. The quality of a 
coal bed undergoes little or no change after 
it is once reached under good cover beyond 
atmospheric influences ; and hence no en- 
couragement can be given to continue to 
work a poor bed in hopes of its improving. 

Coal is excavated chiefly by light, slender 
picks. With one of these a miner makes a 
shallow, horizontal cut as far as he can reach 
under the wall of coal before hira, stretching 
himself out upon the floor to do this work, 
and then he proceeds to make a vertical cut 
extending from each end of that along the 
floor up to the roof. By another horizontal 
cut along the roof, a cubical block of coal is 
thus entirely separated from the bed, except 
on the back side which cannot be reached. 
The separation is completed by wedges 
driven into the upper crevice, or sometimes 
by small charges of powder. By this means 
blocks of coal are thrown down amounting 
to 70 or 80 tons in weight, and with the 
least possible loss by the reduction of por- 
tions of it to dust and fine coal. 

The cost of mining and delivering coal at 
the mouth of the mines, varies with the size 
and character of the beds. Under the most 
favorable conditions the horizontal beds of 
bituminous coal, as those in the hills oppo- 
site Pittsburg, have been worked and the 
coai delivered outside for H cents a bushel, 
or 45 cents a ton ; but in general the total 
expenses are nearly double this rate. In es- 
timating the capacity of production of coal- 
beds it is usual to allow a ton of coal to 
every cubic yard, and a bed of coal a yard 
thick should consequently contain a ton to 



142 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



every square yard, or 4840 tons to the acre : 
but the actual product that can be depended 
on, after the loss by fine coal, by pillars left 
standing, etc., may not safely be reckoned at 
more than 3000 tons, or for every foot thick- 
ness of the bed 1000 tons. 

In the anthracite region, and in other coal 
districts where the beds are of large size and 
lie at various degrees of inclination with the 
horizon, the methods of mining differ more 
or less from those described. The anthra- 
cite beds frequently extend in parallel lay- 
ers longitudinally through the long ridges, 
dipping, it may be, nearly with the out- 
er slope, and descending to great depths 
below the surface. In such positions they 
are conveniently reached at the ends of the 
ridges and in the gaps across these, by a 
level driven on the course of the bed, and 
rising just enough for the water to drain 
freely. A level or gangway of this sort is 
the great road of the mine, by which all the 
coal is to be brought out in case other sim- 
ilar gangways are not driven into the same 
bed at points further up or down its slope. 
Unless the dip is very gentle, one at the 
lowest point should be sufficient. At dif- 
ferent points along its extension passage- 
ways are cut in the coal, directed at right 
angles up the slope of the bed, and as soon 
as one of them can be brought tiirough to 
the surface, a ventilating current of air is 
established, which may afterward be divert- 
ed through all the workings. The passage- 
ways together with other levels above divide 
the coal-bed into great blocks, and also serve 
as shutcs by which the coal excavated above 
is sent down to the main gangway. At the 
bottom of each shute a bin is constructed 
for arresting the coal and discharging it, as 
required, into the wagons which are run in 
beneath on the tracks laid for this purpose. 
Coal-beds in this position are also worked 
from the gangwaj' by broad excavations car- 
ried up the " breast" or face of the bed, suf- 
ficient pillars of coal from 12 to 25 feet long 
being left in either case to support the roof. 
These pillars usually occupy the most room 
just above the gangways, and on passing up 
between them, the chambers are made to 
■widen out till they attain a breadth of about 
40 feet, and tlius the breast is extended up 
to the next level. Props are introduced 
wherever required to support the roof, and 
the rubbish, slates, etc., are stacked up for 
tlie same purpose, as well as to get them out 
of the way. 



It often occurs that coal beds within the 
ridges can be reached only by a tunnel 
driven in from the side of the mountain 
across their line of bearing. Tunnels of this 
kind are sometimes extended till they cut 
two or more parallel coal-beds. Each one 
may then be worked by gangways leaving 
the tunnel at right angles and following the 
coal-beds, and the tunnel continues to be 
the main outlet of them all. 

When it is desirable to obtain the coal 
from the portion of the bed below the level 
of the gangway, preparations must first be 
made for raising the water, which may be 
done for a time by bucket and windlass, and 
as the slope is carried down and the flow of 
water increases, then by mining pumps 
worked by horse or steam power. The 
slope may commence from the exterior sur- 
face or from the lower gangway of a mine 
already in operation, and is made large 
enough to admit wagons, which ascend and 
descend upon two tracks extending down its 
floor. At the depth of 200 or 300 feet 
a gangw'ay is driven at right angles with 
the slope in each direction on the course of 
the bed, and from this the workings are car- 
ried up the breast as already described. 
Other gangways are started at lower levels 
of lOU feet or more each, dividing the 
mine into so many stories or floors. The 
coal above each gangway is sent down to 
its level and is received into wagons. By 
these it is conveyed to the slope, and here 
running upon a turn-table, each wagon is 
set upon the track in the slope and is imme- 
diately taken by the steam engine to the sur- 
face, another car at the same time coming 
down on the other track. Reservoirs are 
constructed upon the different levels to ar- 
rest the water, that it ma_v not all have to 
be raised up from the bottom, and the 
pumps are constructed so as to lift the wa- 
ter from the lower into the higlier reservoirs 
and thence to tlie surface. Many mines of 
this character are opened from the surface, 
one of which is represented in the cut of the 
" Colliery Slope and Breaker, at Tuscarora, 
Pennsylvania." An empty wagon is seen in 
this cut descending the track from the en- 
gine house down into the mouth of the pit, 
and through the end of the building pass- 
es the pump rod which by means of a vi- 
brating " bob" is turned down the pit and 
works by the side of the track. The men 
pass down into the mines of this character, 
sometimes by the wagons, and sometimes by 




IMiElLMIMN 




ISBEAKlXli UFF AND UlAlUXfl I'OAl,. 




UliAUlMl llUl L.JAl. H IILUK lUKUl. I.S NUT hUFFIC'IEN 1 I>K1'1U of VEIN Hi ADMIX 

ML'LE TEAMS. 



143 



ladders or steps arranged for the purpose I 
between the two tracks. Though the open- j 
ing, as represented, appears insignificant for 
an important mine, such a slope may extend 
several hundred feet in depth, and many 
gangways may branch off from it to the 
right and left, extending several miles un- 
der ground in nearly straight lines along the 
course of the bed. These, however, to se- 
cure ventilation, must have other slopes com- 
ing out to the surface, and at these may be 
other arrangements for discharging the coal 
and water. In extensive mines the gang- 
ways are made wide and capacious for the 
continual passing back and forth of the wag- 
ons drawn by mules. These animals once 
lowered into the mine are kept constantly 
under ground, where they arc provided with 
convenient stables excavated from the coal 
and rock. The men continue at work from 
eight to ten hours, and in well-ventilated 
mines the employment is neither very labo- 
rious, hazardous, nor disagreeable. The pur- 
suit has, however, little attraction for Ameri- 
cans, and is mostly monopolized by Welsh, 
English, Irish, and German miners. 

In the anthracite region there have been 
some remarkable instances of open quarries 
of coal. That of the Summit mine of the 
Lehigh is unsurpassed in the history of coal 
mining, for the enormous body of coal ex- 
posed to view. The great coal-bed, which 
appears to have been formed by a num- 
ber of bods coming together through the 
thinning out of the slates that separated 
them, arches over the ridge, forming the up- 
permost layers of rock, and dipping down 
the sides at a steeper angle than their in- 
clination. It thus passes beneath the higher 
strata. On the summit a thin soil, formed 
chiefly of the decomposed coal itself, covered 
the beds and supported a growth of forest 
trees. For several feet down the coal was 
loose and broken before the solid anthracite 
was reached. As the excavations were com- 
menced and carried on from this point, it 
appeared as if the whole mountain was coal. 
Shafts were sunk into it and penetrated re- 
peated layers of anthracite, separated by thin 
seams of slate, to the depth, in some places, 
of more than 55 feet. The work of strip- 
ping off and removing the covering of yellow 
and greenish sandstones and refuse coal was 
carried on, till the quarry had extended over 
about 50 acres, and on the north side the 
overlying sandstone, which had been steadily 
increasing in thickness, presented a wall of 



30 to 40 feet in height. Over this area rail 
tracks were laid for removing the waste 
northward to the slope of the hill toward 
the Panther Creek valley ; and when the 
piles thus formed had grown into large hills, 
the rubbish was deposited in the spaces left 
after the coal had been removed. During the 
progress of this work the scenes presented 
were of the most picturesque and novel char- 
acter. The area laid bare was irregularly 
excavated into steps, upon which temporary 
rail tracks were laid in every direction. Up- 
on these the wagons were kept busily run- 
ning, some carrying off the coal, some load- 
ed with slates and waste, and others return- 
ing empty for their loads. Here and there 
stood huge isolated masses of anthracite, 
with their covering of sandstone, soil, and 
the relics of the original forest growth, reach- 
ing to the height of 50 or 60 feet, monu- 
ments of the vast amount of excavation that 
had been carried on, and presenting in their 
naked, vertical walls, fine representations of 
the extraordinary thickness of the bed and 
of the alternating layers of slate and coal of 
which it was composed. In the accompa- 
nying cut of the great open quarry of the 
Lehigh is represented one of these blocks. 
Gradually these masses disappeared as the 
miners continued their operations ; but in 
the boundary walls of the quarry there are 
still to be seen black cliffs of solid coal more 
than 50 feet high, and overtopped by a wall 
of vellow sandstone of nearly equal addi- 
tional height. L'nder these walls opera- 
tions have been carried on by the regular 
system of underground mining. From ten 
acres of the quarry it has been estimated 
that 850,000 tons of coal have been sent 
away, the value of which in the ground at 
the usual rate of 30 cents per ton, would be 
$255,000, or $25,500 per acre. Estimating 
the average working thickness of the coal 
in this part of the coal-field, from the Lit- 
tle Schuylkill to Nesquehoning, at 40 feet, 
which according to the report of the state 
geologist is not exaggerated, every availa- 
ble acre contains not less than 65,000 tons. 
The expense of extracting and preparing 
the coal from the great bed for market, is 
stated b)' the same authority to be 37i 
cents per ton for mining and delivering 
ready for breaking and cleaning. For this 
operation \2i cents; and for raising it to 
the summit and running it to Mauch Chunk 
25 cents. 

Another locality where coal has been 



144 



MINIXO IXDUSTBY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



worked by open quarrying is at the mines 
of the Baltimore Company, near Wilkes- 
barre. Here, too, an iinmonso bed of coal 
was found so close to the surface that it was 
easily uncovered over a considerable area. 
As the overlying slates and sandstone in- 
creased in thickness, it was found at last 
more economical to follow the coal under 
cover ; and it was then worked after the 
manner of mining the bituminous coal-beds 
west of the Alleghany Mountains. Horizon- 
tal drifts 25 feet higli, which was the thick- 
ness of the bed, were carried in from the 
abrupt wall, several of them near together 
and scpai'ated by great pillars of coal left to 
support the roof The gangways were so 
broad and spacious that a locomotive and 
train of cars might have been run into the 
mine. Within they were crossed by a suc- 
cession of other levels, and through the wide 
spaces thus left open, the light of day pene- 
trated far into the interior of the hill, grad- 
ually disappearing among the forest of black 
pillars by which it was obstructed and ab- 
sorbed. 

In the anthracite region, several coal-beds 
of workable dimensions are often found in 
close proximity, so that when dipping at a 
high angle they are penetrated in succession 
by a tunnel driven across their line of bear- 
ing. Larger quantities of coal are thus con- 
centrated in the same area than are ever met 
with in the bituminous coal-field. In tjie 
northern coal-fields, lietween Scranton and 
Carbondale, tracts have brought .^8u0 or 
more per acre, and single tracts of 650 to 
70U acres are reported upon by competent 
mining engineers as containing five workable 
beds, estimated to yield as follows — each 
one over nearly the whole area: one bed 
working 7 feet, ll,2(iO tons per acre; a sec- 
ond, working 8 feet, 12,8L)U tons per acre ; 
a third, 6 feet, 9600 tons per acre ; a fourth, 
the same ; and a fifth, 3 feet, 4800 tons — 
altogether equalling a production of 48,000 
tons per acre, from which 20 per cent, should 
be deducted for mine w.-iste, pillars, etc. 

The anthracite as usually br(,)Ught out from 
the mines is most!}' in large lumps t)f incon- 
venient size to handle. In this shape it was 
originally sent to market, and wlien sold to 
consumers a man was sent with the coal to 
break it up in small pieces with a hammer. 
At present every miin; is supplied with an 
apparatus called a coal-breaker, which is run 
by steam power, and which crushes the large 
pieces of coal in fragments. It consists of 



two rollers of cast iron, one solid, with its 
surface armed with powerful teeth, and the 
other of open basket-work structure. Ihese 
revolve near together, and the coal, fed from 
a hopper above, is broken between them, and 
the pieces discharged below into another hop- 
per are delivered into the upper end of a re- 
volving cylindrical screen, made of stout iron 
wire, and set on a gentle incline. The meshes 
of this screen are of four or more degrees of 
coarseness. At the upper end the finer par- 
ticles only drop through ; passing this por- 
tion of the screen, the coarser meshes which 
succeed let through the stove coal sizes, next 
the " egg coal," and next the " broken coal," 
while the coarsest pieces of all, called " lump 
coal," are discharged through the lower end 
of the screen. Under the screen are bins or 
shutes, separated by partitions, so as to keep 
each size b}' itself Their floor slopes down 
to the railway track, and each bin at its lower 
end is provided with a trap-door, through 
which the coal is delivered as required into 
the wagons. The general plan of this ar- 
rangement is seen in the preceding wood-cut 
of the Colliery Slope and Breaker at Tusca- 
rora. The coal wagons are here run from 
the mine up into the top of the engine house, 
and thence through the building to the 
breaker at the upper end of the slope over 
the shutes. As the coal falls from the screen 
into these, boys are employed, one in each 
bin, to pick out and throw away the pieces 
of slate and stone that may be mixed with 
the coal. This they soon learn to do very 
thoroughly and with great activity ; and up- 
on the faithfulness with which their work is 
done depends in no small measure the repu- 
tation of the coal. 



USEFUL APPLICATIONS. 

While anthracite, by reason of its simple 
composition, is fitted only for those uses in 
which the combustion or oxidation of its 
carbon is required to generate heat, or else 
to extract oxygen from other substances, 
the bituminous coals, containing a greater 
variety of ingredients, serve to produce from 
their volatile ingredients illuminating gas 
and coal oils. These two subjects will be 
treated in distinct chapters, an . that upon 
the oils may properly include an account 
of the petroleum wells which have come 
within the past ten j'ears to furnish so large 
and important an item of our exports and 
Lome consumption. 



1 



ILLUMINATING GAS. 



145 



CHAPTER X. 



ILLUMIN-ATIKG GAS. 



The supply of artificial light in abun- 
dance and at little cost is one of the most 
important benefits which science and me- 
chanics can confer. It contributes not 
merely to phy.sical comfort and luxurious 
livinij, but supplies the means to multitudes 
of obtaining instruction during those hours 
after the cessation of their daily labors, 
vhich are not required for sleep, and 
which among the poor have in great 
measure been spent in dar-lvuess, on ac- 
count of the expense of artificial light. At 
the present day it is not unusual, in the less 
cultivated portions of the country, to see a 
farmer's family at night gathered around a 
blazing fire, and some among them seeking 
by its fitful light to extract the news from 
a public journal, or perhaps conning their 
school tasks, and making some attempts at 
writing or ciphering ; and when the hour to 
retire has come, the younger members dis- 
appear in the dark, and the more honored 
are favored with a home-made tallow can- 
dle, just sufficient for this use, and endura- 
ble on!)' to those who are unaccustomed to 
a more cleanlv and efficient method of il- 
lumination. With the advance of cultivation 
and learning, the demand for better light 
has increased the more rapidi}' it has been 
met. The sea has been almost exhaust- 
ed of whales for furnishing supplies of oil. 
The pork of the West has been largely con- 
verted by new chemical processes into lard 
oil and the hard stearine for candles ; and 
numerous preparations of spirits of turpen- 
tine, under the name of camphene and burn- 
ing fluid, have been devised and largely in- 
troduced with ingenious lamps contrived to 
secure the excellent light they furnish, with 
the least possible risk of the awful explo- 
sions to which those fluids are liable when 
their vapor comes in contact with fire. The 
bituminous coals have been made to give up 
the'r volatile portions — by one process to 
afford an illuminating gas, and by another 
to produce burning oils ; and the earth it- 
self is bored by deep wells to exhaust the 
newly-found supplies of oil gathered be- 
neath the surface at unknown periods by 
natural processes of distillation. The res- 
inous products of the pine tree are applied 
to the production of oil and gas for the 
same purposes; and peat, wood, and other 
9* 



combustible bodies — even water itself — are 
all resorted to as sources from which the cry 
for " more light" shall be satisfied. 

The distillation of carbonaceous and bi- 
tuminous substances to obtain an illuminat- 
ing gas is a process, the practical applica- 
tion of which hardly dates back of the pres- 
ent century. The escape of inflammable 
gases from the earth, in different parts of 
the world, had been observed, and the 
phenomenon had been applied to supersti- 
tious ceremonials, especially at Bakoo on 
the shores of the Caspian. The Chinese 
are said to have applied such natural jets 
of gas to purposes of both illumination and 
heating; but the first attempts to light build- 
ings by gas distilled from bituminous coal 
were made about the year 1798 by Mr. 
Murdock in the manufactory of Messrs. 
Boulton and Watt, at Soho, England, and 
about the same time in France by a French- 
man named Le Bow. The Lonilon and 
Westminster Chartered Gas Light and Coke 
Company was incorporated in 1810, and 
Westminster bridge was lighted with gas, 
Dec. 31, 1813. The process was introduced 
into this country about the year 1821. Some 
attempts had been made at an earlier date, 
as in Baltimore according to some state- 
ments in 1816, and in New York four years 
before this. In the New York News of 
August 15, 1859, is an account of the ef- 
forts made by Mr. David Melville of that 
city to establish the use of coal gas in 1812. 
He lighted his own house with it, and then 
a factory at Pawtucket. He also succeeded 
in having it applied to one of the light- 
houses on the coast of Rhode Island, and 
for one year its use was continued with suc- 
cess. But on account of the disturbed state 
of the times and the prejudices against the 
use of a new material, the enterprise fell 
through. In 1822 the manufacture of gas 
was undertaken in Boston ; and the next 
year the New York Gas Light Company 
was incorporated with a capital of 81,000,- 
000. The works, however, were not com- 
pleted and in operation until 1827. An- 
other company, called the Manhattan Gas 
Light Company, was incorporated in 1830 
with a capital of S500,i;00, which has since 
been increased to §4,000,000. Such were 
the beginnings of this branch of manufac- 
ture, which has of late rapidly extended 
itself throughout all the cities and many of 
the towns "of the United States, having 
works in operation representing a capital of 



146 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATUS. 



Within the last twenty ye:irs the use of g.is 
has increased with great r^ipidity througliuut 
the cities and towns of the United St:ites. 
In 18G0, the number of companies miinufac- 
turing g IS was, according to the stitements 
of the American Gas Light Journal, -loo, 
representing a capit<d of about $59,000,(100. 
Ill 1870, the number of companies had in- 
creased to somewhat more th:in 800, and tlie 
capit d represented to over 1 12,000,000, tluis 
ranking with tlie most important brandies 
of industry in the country. The capital 
of the gas companies of tlie State of New 
York, is stated by Mr. Wells in his Report 
on Local Taxation, to have been $20,000,000 
iu 1870, and in this estimate many of the 
smaller companies are overlooked. The 
capitid of the gas companies of New York 
■ !ind Brooklyn in 1871 was over $14,000,000. 
There are certainly five and ])robably six 
companies whose annual production exceeds 
1, 000,001 »,000 cubic feet, and several others 
are approximating to that amount. The 
jirice per thousand feet has varied greatly 
in different sections, and has fluctuated in 
all cases with the price of ths coal and in its 



jiroduction. In New York city and JSrook- 
lyn, it has ranged from $2.00 to $4.r)0, 
standing at present at $3.25, but with a 
j)roniise of reduction soon to $2.75. In 
Philadelplua, where the city manufactures 
for its citizens, it is now, we believe, $2,25, 
and in Pittsburg has been as low as $1.5t). 
In the smaller cities it ranges from $4.00 to 
$8 00 per thousand feet. On the Pacific 
coast, owing to the high price of gas pro- 
ducing coals, it has been as high as from 
S8.00 to $14.00 per thousand Ifeet. If the 
Rocky Mountain coals prove to be of good 
qu dity for the production of gas, the coet 
will be materially lessened. Notwithstand- 
ing the consumption of petroleum oils, tliere 
has been an increase in the demand for illu- 
minating gas, and the ])lans proposed for its 
production from other hydrocarbons, or liy 
new processes, have generally failed, so that 
there seems to be a probabilitv of the contin- 
ueil [iroduction of gas from coals What new 
methods of illumination the next twenty 
years may develop we cannot say ; but it is 
certain that a cheaj), safe, and brilliant illu- 
minator is still a tiling to be desired. 



SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL GAS LIGHT COMPANIES IN THE UNITED STATES. 



Char- T tu:^„ Chartered 

*„ „j Local ties. ■. , 

tered. caintiil. 

1830, Manhattan, N. T $4,000,000 

1823, New York, N. Y 1,000,000 

1825, Brooklyn, N. Y 2,000,000 

1859, Cilizeiis' Co., Brooklyn 1,000,000 

1841, Philadelphia 3,000,000 

Northern Liberties 400,000 

1822, Boston, Mass 1.000,000 

1851, Cincinnati, Ohio 1,600,000 

1849, Chicago, 111 1,300,000 

1846, Charleston, S. C 723,800 

1839, St. Loui.s, Mo 600,000 

1835, Pittsburg, Penn 300,000 

1848, Providence, R. 1 1,000,000 

1845, Albanv, N. Y 250.000 

1838, Louisville, Ky 600,000 

1850, Williamsburg^ N. Y 500,000 

1848, Troy, N. Y 200,000 

1851, Richmond, Va 341, 9"5 

1852, Rochester, N. Y 200,000 

1849, Lowell, Mass 200,000 

1848, Cleveland, Ohio 200,000 

1849, Detroit. Mich 000,000 

1853, Jersey City, N. J 300,000 

Milwaukee, Wi.s 400,009 

1849, Ilarttbrd, Conn 200,000 

1849, Portland, Maine 250,000 

1857, Columbia, California 50,000 

1852, San Francisco, " 1,000,000 

1858, Mary.sville, " 50,000 

Stockton, " 50,000 

1857, Sacramento, " 600,000 



Approximate 


Prices te 


private 






annual 


CDDPUlners 


Average cost of 


proiliiclion. 


per lOUO cubic 


coal used 


per ton. 


Cubic feet. 


feet. 






725,321,000 


$2 


50 


$6 50 to 


$11 00 


430,000,000 


2 


50 






163,000,000 


2 


00 


7 28 to 


8 15 




2 


00 






432,000,000 


2 


25 


6 50 




70,000,000 


2 


50 


6 29 




200,000.000 


2 


50 


5 00 to 


12 00 


96.708,900 


2 


50 


3 40 




80,250,810 


3 
4 


50 
00 


5 78 




74,500,000 


3 


50 


7 50 




54,720,000 


1 


50 


1 25 




41,437,883 


3 


00 


7 20 




40,250,000 


3 


00 


6 75 to 


8 00 


33,750.000 


2 


70 






33,493,082 


3 


50 


6 25 to 


9 50 


28,000,000 


3 


60 


7 20 




27,000,000 


3 


00 


4 15 




25,000,000 


2 


50 


5 38 




21,000,000 


3 


25 


6 50 




20,000,000 


3 


00 


4 25 




20,000,000 


3 


50 


5 00 




19,234,000 


3 


00 


7 89 




19,049,560 


3 


50 


6 00 




15,000,000 


3 

3 

10 

8 

12 

10 


00 
50 
00 
00 
50 
00 


8 63 




, , 


10 


00 


• 





ILLUMINATING GAS. 



UT 



TOTAL OF GAS COMPANIES IN THE UNITED STATES 

State. Companie; 

Alabama , 3 

Arkan.sas None. 

California 9 

Connecticut 14 

Delaware 3 

Di.stiict of Columbia 1 

Florida 1 

Georgia 6 

Illinois 13 

Indiana 7 

Iowa 5 

Kansas I 

Kentncky 5 

Louisiana 2 

Maine 10 

Marjland C 

Massacliusetta 49 

Michigan 8 

Minnesota 1 

Mississippi 4 

Missouri 4 

New Hanipsliire 9 

New Jersey 19 

New Tork 71 

North Carolina 8 

Ohio 30 

Oregon 1 

Pennsylvania 48 

Rhode Island 7 

South Carolina 2 

Tennessee 4 

Texas 3 

Vermont 8 

Virginia 11 

Wisconsin 8 



Not enumerated above. 



ED STATES FROM RETURNS 


OF JULY, 


1860. 


k Capital. 


Coal 


Average 


Rosin 


Average 




gas. 




gaa. 


price. 


$320,000 


3 


$5 16 






1,790,000 


9 


10 05 






953,000 


14 


3 83 






244,300 


3 


3 50 






500,000 


1 


3 25 






30,000 


1 


7 00 






559,160 


4 


4 68 


2 


$6 50 


2,595,000 


13 


3 91 






605,000 


7 


3 97 






355,000 


5 


4 40 






200,000 


1 


5 00 






905,000 


5 


4 04 






1,540,000 


2 


4 50 






905,300 


9 


3 90 


1 


7 00 


780,000 


3 


3 49 


3 


6 60 


4,759,000 


45 


3 43 


4 


6 37 


745,000 


8 


3 78 






200,000 


1 


6 00 






212,000 


4 


4 75 






775,000 


4 


4 50 






425,000 


9 


3 98 






1,849,610 


17 


3 72 


2 


6 50 


12,780,250 


61 


3 70 


10 


6 70 


187,000 






8 


5 93 


3,338,600 


29 


3 85 


1 


7 00 


50,000 


1 


8 00 






5,657,700 


43 


3 55 






1,344,000 


6 


3 58 


1 


7 00 


767,800 


2 


5 00 






663,000 


4 


4 00 






225,000 


3 


6 33 






216,000 


6 


4 25 


2 


6 50 


1,030,000 


10 


3 68 


1 


7 00 


778,500 


8 


4 44 




•■ 


6,200,000 


50 


. .. 


• • 


.. 



Grand total 431 S59,U 1,215 



396 



The preparation of illuminating gas from 
bituminous coal, wood, rosin, and other 
bodies of organic nature, is a chemical proc- 
ess, too complicated to be very fully treated 
in this place. When such bodies are intro- 
duced into a retort and subjected to strong 
heat, the elements of which thev consist, as 
carbon, liydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, re- 
solve themselves into a great variety of com- 
pounds, and escape (with tlie exception of 
a fixed carbonaceous residue of charcoal or 
of coke) through the neck of the retort in 
the form of gas or vapors, some of the 
latter of which condense on cooling into 
liquids and solids. These compounds are 
rendered more complicated by appropriating 
the elements of air and moisture that may 
be present in the retort or in the crude ma- 
terial, and also of the foreign substances or 
impurities contained in the latter. In proc- 
esses of this kind, the products vary great- 
ly in their character and relative proportions 
according to the degree of heat employed, 



and the rapidity with which the operation is 
conducted. The object in this special dis- 
tillation is to obtain the largest proportion 
of the gases richest in carbon, particularly 
that known as olefiant gas, which consists 
of 86 parts by weight of carbon and 14 of 
hydrogen, represented by the formula C4 
Hj. This and some other gaseous liydro- 
carbons of similar composition, or even con- 
taining a much larger amount of carbon in 
the same volume, and hence having a cor- 
respondingly greater illuminating capacity, 
it is found, are produced most freel}' from 
carbonaceous substances which contain a 
large proportion of hydrogen compared with 
that of oxygen. Many of the common bi- 
tuminous coals contain about 5'5 per cent, 
each of hydrogen and ox3'gen, the rest be- 
ing carbon. Boghead canncl of Scotland 
contains 11 per cent, of hydrogen and 6 '7 
of oxygen; rosin 10 per cent, hydrogen and 
10-6 oxygen; wood 55 hydrogen and 44-5 
oxygen. Of such compounds the cannel 



148 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



yields the richest gas and in largest quan- 
tity. Still, as will be more fully explained 
hereafter, the process may be so conducted 
as to obtain chiefly liquid instead of gaseous 
products. AVith the olefiant gas and tlie 
others of similar composition, a number of 
other gases also appear, some of which seem 
to be essential for producing the effect re- 
quired in illuminating gas, though they do 
not themselves aft'ord light by their combus- 
tion. Their part is rather like that of nitro- 
gen in the atmosphere, to moderate the in- 
tensity of the more active agent of the mix- 
ture. Such are the light carburetted hydro- 
gen, carbonic oxide, and hydrogen, all of 
which are inflammable, but possess little or 
no illuminating power. The first named 
contains in an equal volume only half as 
much carbon as olefiant gas, its composition 
being represented by the formula Co IIj, 
and if its proportion is too great for the 
purpose it serves as a diluent, the quality of 
the gas is impaired, and must be corrected 
by the use of riclier material or increased 
care in the process. 

The light produced by the combustion 
of gas is variable, not only according to the 
quality of the gas, but also according to the 
manner in which it is burned. If its ele- 
ments undergo the chemical changes which 
constitute combustion simultaneously, the 
liydrogen combining with the oxygen of the 
air to form aqueous vapor, and the carbon 
with oxygen to produce carbonic acid, no 
yellow flame .appears, but instead of this, a 
pale blue flame like that of hydrogen alone. 
Such an effect is produced when air is 
thoroughly intermixed with the gas as it 
passes through a tube to the jet wliere it is 
ignited. Uut if the conditions of the com- 
bustion are such that the hydrogen burns 
first and appropriates the oxygen in contact 
with the gas, the particles of carbon are 
brouglit to an incandescent state and pro- 
duce the yellow light before they reach the 
oxygon with which they combine. The 
particles may even be arrested while in trans- 
itu and be deposited upon a cold surface in 
the form of soot. The greatest heat is pro- 
duced with the most thorough mode of 
combustion and tlio appearance of the pale 
blue flame ; and lamps designed to give 
great heat are now in general use among 
chemists, in which g.as is burned in this 
manner. Wlien the air is impelled by a 
bellows they even produce an intensity of 
heat suflicient for many crucible operations. 



If too much carbon be present a part of 
it escapes unconsumed and produces a 
smoky flame, hence the necessity of the di- 
luents or gases deficient in carbon for neu- 
tralizing the too large proportion of those 
gases richest in carbon. The noxious com- 
pounds in illuminating gas, and which 
should be as far as possible extracted from 
it before it is delivered for consumption, are 
the sulphurous ingredients formed by the 
combination of the sulphur of the ii'on 
pyrites commonly present in bituminous 
coals with the carbon, and with the hydro- 
gen and the amraoniacal products. They 
are the highly otfensive sulphurets of carbon, 
the sulphuretted hydrogen, etc. Carbonic 
acid, nitrogen, oxygen, carbonate of ammo- 
nia and aqueous vapors are to be regarded 
as foreign substances, though always present 
to some extent in the gas. 

The liquids generated by the distillation 
mostly condense in two layers on cooling, 
the upper an aqueous fluid, rendered strong- 
ly alkaline by the ammoniacal compounds in 
solution; and the lower a black tarry mix- 
ture commonly known as coal tar, wliich is 
composed of more than a dozen dift'erent 
oily hydrocarbons, as benzole, tuluole, etc., 
and contain in solution the solid oily com- 
pounds of carbon and hydrogen, as naph- 
thaline, para-naphthaline, and several others. 
Many of these are likely to prove of con- 
siderable practical importance. Benzoic is 
a highly volatile fluid, a powerful solvent of 
the resins, india-rubber, gutta percha, greasy 
matters, etc. A most beautiful light is pro- 
duced b)' the flame of benzole mixed with 
due proportions of common air, and the 
mixture is eftected by passing a current of 
air through the fluid, the vapor of whicli it 
takes up and carries along with it. The 
difficulty attending this application is the 
condensation of the benzole and its separa- 
tion from the air at temperatures below 50°. 
Above 70° too much vapor is taken up, 
and the effect is a smoky flame. In Europe 
much attention has been directed to the 
separation of the more hidden products of 
coal t.ar ; and among those the following are 
enumerated in a statement exemplifying the 
rapid increase in the value of these prod- 
ucts as they are obtained by more extend- 
ed researches. Benzoic worth about 25 
cents a pound ; nitro-bonzolo, a substance 
having the odor and taste of bitter almonds 
and used as a flavoring, worth, crude, 70 
cents, or refined, $1.50 per pound. The or- 



ILLUMINATING GAS. 



149 



dinary aniline dye for producing the mauve 
color, $4.50 to $8 per pound, and the pure 
aniline violet in powder $240 to $325 per 
pound, or about its weight in gold. 

Gas works established in cities and towns 
are commonly built in places where the 
property and buildings around are least like- 
ly to be injured by the escape of the prod- 
ucts, and rather upon a low than a high 
level, for the reas<jn that the gas on account 
of its lightness compared with the atmos- 
pheric air ascends more freely than it de- 
scends to its points of communication with 
the external air. The works consist of the 
apparatus for distilling the coal and receiv- 
ing the products of the distillation, that for 
purifying the gas, and that for conveying it 
to the places where it is consumed, and 
there measuring the quantities supplied to 
each customer. The retorts in general use 
are either of cast iron or of fire clay. The 
latter are a late improvement highly recom- 
mended, and introduced at the present time 
into a few of the gas works. Various forms 
have been tried ; the most approved are of 
Q shape, 7 to 9 feet long, 1 or 2 feet wide, 
and 12 or 15 inches high. They are set in 
the furnace stacks, commonly two on the 
same horizontal plane, two more over these, 
and a fifth at the top. A single furnace fire 
below is sufficient for heating them, and the 
capacity of the works is increased by multi- 
plying these fires along the length of the 
stacks. Sometimes the stacks are made 
double, so as to take two retorts set end to 
end, each opening on opposite sides of the 
stack. In place of two retorts a single long 
one has been substituted, passing entirely 
through and having at each end an opening 
for charging and discharging. In large es- 
tablishments as many as GOO or more retorts 
mav be set, all of which may be kept em- 
ploved in the winter season, when the con- 
sumption of gas is largest. The outer end 
of each retort projects a little way in front 
of the wall of the furnace, and is provided 
with a movable mouth-piece covering the 
entire end, which may be readily removed 
for admitting the charge of coal. Upon the 
top of this projecting end or neck stands 
the cast-iron pipe of about 4 inches in di- 
ameter, called the stand pipe, through which 
the volatile products pass from the retort. 
It rises a few feet, then curves over back, and 
passes down into a long horizontal pipe of 
large diameter, which is laid upon the out- 
er edge of the brick-work, and extends the 



whole length of the furnace stacks. This 
is called the hydraulic main, and into it all 
the volatile products from the retorts be- 
neath are discharged. It is kept about half 
filled with water or the liquid tarry matters, 
and the dip pipes terminate about three 
inches below this fluid surface. By this ar- 
rangement the retorts are kept entirely inde- 
pendent of each other, while their products 
all meet in one receptacle. 

In manufacturing gas it is found neces- 
sary to introduce the charge into the retorts 
already at a full red heat, and bring it as 
rapidly as possible to the high temperature 
required for producing the richest gaseous 
hydrocarbons. A low and slowly increas- 
ing heat causes the ingredients of the charge 
to form a larsje proportion of liquid and oily 
substances, and little gas. It is only while 
the coal is approaching a vivid red heat 
that the best gaseous mixtures are obtained; 
and even these are deteriorated by change 
in the composition of the olefiant and other 
rich gases of which they are in part com- 
posed, if the mixture is exposed to too high 
temperature, or remains in contact with red 
hot surfaces of iron. The duration of the 
charge used formerly to be from 8 to 10 
hours ; but from the observations of the 
qualities of the gases evolved at ditTerent 
stashes of the process, it has gradually been 
reduced to 4 to 6 hours, varying according 
to the character of the coal employed. The 
richest gases are obtained in the first hour, 
and after this the proportional quantity per 
hour steadily diminishes at the same time 
that the quality gradually deteriorates. The 
temptation, however, to obtain the largest 
amount of a commodity which is sold only 
by measure, and to consumers who have no 
means of assuring themselves of its real 
quality, no doubt often leads to extending 
the operation to the separation of gaseous 
mixtures having very little illuminating pow- 
er. The manufacturers knowing their ma- 
terials, and checking their operations by 
regular photometrical tests, can control the 
quality of the product as they see fit. 

In order that the least loss may be incur- 
red in bringing the charge up to the proper 
temperature, the retorts are kept at a full red 
heat ; and when ready for a new charge the 
mouth-piece is partially removed, and the 
gas that escapes is ignited. When the danger 
of explosion by sudden admission of air has 
passed the lid is removed, and the red hot 
coke is raked out and quenched with water. 



150 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



The new charge is then introduced by means 
of a long iron scoop bent up at the sides, 
which is pushed into the retort, and being 
turned over, discharges its contents. The 
mouth-piece is then replaced, and tightly 
secured with a luting of clay or lime. It is 
obvious that the more perfectly the coal is 
freed from moisture, the better must be the 
gas ; and if it were also first somewhat 
heated, the result would be still more satis- 
factory. Tlie coals employed at the differ- 
ent gas works of the United States arc gen- 
erally mixtures of the caking coals of the 
interior, or of those of Richmond, Virginia, 
and of Nova Scotia, with cannel coal, which 
for the cities near the coast is imported 
from Great Britain, and for those in the in- 
terior is obtained from the mines of this coal 
in western Virginia and in Kentucky. The 
larger the proportion of cannel, the better 
should be the gas, under the same method 
of manufacture. In the works in New- 
York city, the proportion of cannel is gen- 
erally from one third to one fourth of the 
whole. Other establishments generally use 
a less proportion of it. The amount of gas 
it may produce varies with the kind of can- 
nel from 9500 cubic feet to the ton to 
15,000 cubic feet. The last is the yield of 
the Boghead cannel. In general, the greater 
the yield the better also is the quality of the 
gas, as is indicated by its increased specific 
gravity, that of the cannel last named being 
.752, while the gas from other cannels yield- 
ing about 10,000 cubic feet may not exceed 
.500. The best Newcastle coals are not infe- 
rior, either in the amount or quality of the gas 
they aflord, to most of the cannels. They 
produce about 12,000 cubic feet of gas to 
the ton, and of specific gravity sometimes 
exceeding .550 or even .600. The specific 
gravity is not depended upon as a certain 
test of the quality of the gas, the density 
of which may be increased by presence of 
impure heavy gases, or even of atmospheric 
air ; but it is resorted to only as an indica- 
tion in the absence of more exact tests. 

The coke obtained from the retorts, 
amounting to about 40 bushels to the ton 
of coals, furnishes all the fuel required for 
the fires beneath, and three times as much 
more, which is sold for fuel. As the vola- 
tile products pass through the hydraulic 
main, the principal portions of the oily and 
ammoniacal compounds arc deposited in it ; 
but some of these pass on in vapors, and 
would, if not separated, cause obstructions 



in the pipes in which they might condense 
in liquids and solids. They are consequent- 
ly passed through a succession of tall iron 
pipes standing in the open air, and some- 
times kept cool by w.ater trickling down 
their outside. A pipe from the bottom of 
each pair convevs the condensed tar and 
ammonia into a cistern in the ground. To 
still further separate the condensable por- 
tions, the gas at some works is next passed 
into the bottom of a tower filled with bricks, 
stones, etc., among the interstices of which 
it finds its way up, at the same time that 
water constantly sprinkled on the top is 
working down and keeping the whole cool. 
The water washes away the remaining am- 
monia; but it is to be feared that it also re- 
moves some of the richest hydrocarbons, 
and the use of the wet scrubber, as it is 
called, is already abandoned at some of the 
gas works for similar methods of condens- 
ing, except that the water is dispensed 
with. The gas makes its exit from the top 
of the scrubber ; and its passage being al- 
ready somewhat impeded so as to throw 
considerable pressure back into the retorts, 
thus eft'ecting chemical changes in the gas, 
which impair its quality, it is found neces- 
sary to introduce a revolving exhauster, 
which takes otf this pressure, and at the 
same time propels the gas forward into the 
succeeding apparatus. This is first a puri- 
fier, the object of which is to arrest the car- 
bonic acid and sulphurous gases. Diy 
quicklime, and also the solution of this in 
water, known as milk of lime, have the prop- 
erty of absorbing these gases as they are 
made to pass among the particles of the one 
spread upon shelves, or interspersed among 
a porous sulistance such as dry moss ; or to 
bubble up through the aqueous solution. 
The lime as it becomes saturated with the 
impure gases is replaced with fresh portions. 
The cleansing process is now complete, 
and the gas is in proper condition to be de- 
livered to the consumer. It must first, how- 
ever, be measured, that a record may be kept 
of the quantity produced, and it is next con- 
ducted into the great gas-holders in which 
it is stored. The measurement is effected 
by means of a large station meter, construct- 
ed on the principle of the small service- 
meters, with one of which each consumer is 
supplied. A revolving drum with four com- 
partments of equal capacity is made to rotate 
in a tight box by the gas entering and fill' 
ing one of these compartments after another. 



ILLUMINATING GAS. 



151 



Tlieir capacity being known, and tlie number 
of revolutions being recorded by a train of 
wlieei-work outside the box, the quantity of 
gas which passes through is exactly indica- 
ted. The largest meters pass about 650 
cubic feet by one revolution of the drum, or 
about 7i),0U0 cubic feet in an hour. 

The gas-holders are the large cylindrical 
vessels of plate iron, the most conspicuous 
objects at the gas works. Each one is set 
witii its open end down, and immersed in a 
cistern of water of diameter a little exceed- 
ing its own. It is buoyed up by the water, 
and also counterbalanced by weights passing 
over pulleys. The gas admitted under the 
inverted cylinder lifts this up, and fills all 
the portion above the water. The weight 
of the cylinder when the influx is shut otF, 
aud the discharge pipes are opened presses 
the gas out and through the mains to the 
points where it is consumed. The gas-hold- 
ers of the largest works are of immense 
size. In Philadelphia, there is one 160 feet 
in diameter and 05 feet high, holding 1,800,- 
000 cubic feet of gas. Even this is exceeded 
by one at the Imperial Gas Company's works, 
London, which is 201 feet in diameter, 80 
feet high, and of the capacity of 2,500,000 
cubic feet. This cost upward of 8200,000 ; 
and contains 1500 tons of iron, 5000 cubic 
feet of stone work, and 2,000,000 bricks. 
No advantage is gained in a single structure 
of this immense size over several smaller 
ones. On the contrary, this involves heavy 
expenditures to protect them against the 
force of the wind, and render them manage- 
able. Those of great height are made in 
sections, whicli shut one within another in 
descending, like the parts of a telescope. 
As each setition is lifted in turn out of the 
water, its lower edge, which is turned up in 
an outward direction, forming an annular 
cup, includes a portion of water, into which 
the upper edtce of the next lower section 
eatclies, being turned over inward for this 
purpose. A gas-tight joint between the two 
sections is thus formed. 

To insure uniformity of pressure, as the 
gas enters the mains it is first made to pass 
through the apparatus called a governor, in 
■which, accordinir to the force or slowness 
with which it moves, it causes a valve to rise 
and partially close an aperture within the 
machine through which the gas flows, or to 
descend and open this aperture. The in- 
crease of pressure as the gas is carried to 
higher levels, amounting to one fifth of an 



inch of water in every 30 feet, renders it 
important in hilly towns to have governors 
upon difterent levels. In high buildings a 
very sensible difterence is perceived in the 
force with which the gas issues from the 
burners on the ditfercut stories. This in- 
volves a waste of gas where the pressure is 
great, for under such conditions a consider- 
able portion of that consumed adds little 
to the illuminating effect. Various govern- 
ors or regulators have been devised for the 
use of consumers with a view of producing 
an increase of light with reduced consump- 
tion of gas ; and when judiciously applied, 
some of them, as Kidder's and Stirling's, have 
proved very successful. The latter lias been 
introduced into some of the public buildings 
of New York city, controlled by the Street 
Department, and according to the report of 
the Street Commissioner, the saving has 
been in many instances very remarkable. 

Each consumer of gas is supplied with a 
meter, which is under the control of the 
gas company ; and from its indications the 
amount furnished is determined by inspec- 
tion every month. 

Tliough in the use of gas the consumer is 
in a great measure dependent on the manu- 
facturer as regards the economy of the light, 
there are several points, by giving personal 
attention to which, he may more fully real- 
ize the saving it affords. In the first place, 
he must be aware that every one emploving 
this source of light uses it more freely than 
that derived from lamps and candles. It is 
enjoyed with so little trouble and apparent 
cost, that much more light is soon regarded 
essential, than was perfectly satisfactory un- 
der the old methods of producing it. He 
should next see that the area of the delivery 
pipe bears such proportion to the quantity 
usually required, that there is no undue pres- 
sure upon the burners, as is evident when 
the gas "blows" through them as it burns. 
This should be cheeked by shutting off a 
part of the supply by means of the stop-cock 
at the meter ; and this should be looked to 
after every visit of the gas man to the meter. 
The regulator also is intended to remedy 
this over supply, but it may still be neces- 
sary to keep part of the gas turned off, and 
by so doing the regulator may be dispensed 
with. Attention should next be directed to 
the burners, that those of largest size, such as 
consume with the ordinary pressure six feet 
or more of gas an hour, should be placed 
only where the greatest quantity of light is 



152 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



required, and that burners of four feet, three 
feet, two feet, or even one foot an hour, be 
placed where the light they give will be suf- 
ficient. The burners called Scotch tips, giv- 
ing what is called the fish-tail flame, are in 
common use, but a great variety of others 
have been contrived, and some of them are 
liighly recommended for affording more light 
with the same amount of gas. All, however, 
are liable to become foul after a time, and 
should be occasionally cleaned or replaced. 
The iron of which tliey are made is corrod- 
ed by the ingredients of the gas, especially 
when not in use, and air entering its ele- 
ments form acid compounds with those of 
the gas which remain in the open portion 
of the pipe. The argand burner is recom- 
mended for the powerful and steady light it 
gives, but it is far from being economical, and 
moreover produces great heat. For a steady 
light Gleason's " American gas-burner" com- 
bines the advantages of brilliant light, steadi- 
ness of flame, and moderate consumption. 

The quality of gas is determined either by 
analysis, or more conveniently by testing 
with the photometer its comparative capac- 
ity of producing light. The standard adopt- 
ed for comparison is spermaceti caudles, each 
one burning 120 grains in an hour. An ar- 
gand burner consuming five feet of gas an 
hour (the quantity carefully proved by the 
meter) is used in making the trial ; and the 
number of candles required to produce an 
equal amount of light indicates the quality 
of the gas. At the points of consumption 
this is sometimes inferior to that of the gas 
at the works before it enters the gas-holders 
and passes through the mains ; but in very 
cold weather, by the condensation of the 
richest hydrocarbon vapor in the pipes, the 
gas that reaches the burners is poorer than 
that which left the works. Consequently 
these facts should be taken into consider- 
ation in estimating the quality of gas fur- 
nished by any establishment. Again, after 
a period of excessive cold weather, when the 
gas lias burned dimly by the condensation 
of its best portions in the pipes — it may be 
to the extent at times of obstructing the flow 
throu;;h them — and with the return of milder 
weather the vapors are released and mix with 
tlie new gas, they sometimes so overburden 
this with an undue proportion of the richest 
compoupds, that with the ordinary burners 
the gas cannot be consumed, and the result 
is a smoky flame, of which the consumers 
make great complaint, believing it to be 



caused by inferior gas. Such are some of 
the causes, over which the manufacturers 
have no control, that involve more or less ir- 
regularity in the quality of the gas supplied. 

The gas produced at different works is of 
various qualities. That of the Manhattan 
Gas Liglit Company is rated at sixteen can- 
dles, and is probably as good as any furnish- 
ed in our cities. It is tested daily with the 
photometer at their oflicc, at the corner of 
Irving Place and Fifteenth street. New York. 
In England, the gas of the London works va- 
ries from eleven to eighteen candles. That 
of Liverpool is much better, sometimes being 
equal to twenty -two candles. 

Other materials than coal have been ap- 
plied to some extent in the United States 
for producing gas, chiefly for small suf>plie3 
for single buildings. The most successful of 
these processes is that with rosin oil. The 
apparatus is exceedingly simple, and is placed 
in an apartment in an out-building. It con- 
sists of a stove containing a chamber in the 
top, into which the rosin oil is allowed to 
drop slowly. It is decomposed by the heat 
of the surface upon which it falls, and the 
gaseous products pass immediately through 
the pipes into the gas-holder, whence they are 
distributed as at the large gas works. The 
supply for a week may be made in less than 
an hour with very little attention from the 
person in charge. The gas is superior to 
that from coal, and the expense, not reckon- 
ing the cost of the gas-holder and the appa- 
ratus, is less than the price ordinarily paid 
for gas. 

In Philadelphia wood has been success- 
fully used at the Market street bridge works. 
Six retorts have been kept in operation with 
it for some time, and the yield and quality 
of the gas have proved very satisfactory. As 
in the use of coal, it is found necessary to 
charge the material into retorts already at a 
high heat, otherwise the gaseous products 
have little illuminating power. Gas thus 
made from pine wood has been found to 
contain 10.57 per cent, of olefiant gas, and 
that from oak 6.46 per cent. 

Hydrocarbon Gas. — What is known as 
the hydrocarbon or water gas manufacture 
was introduced into Philadelphia in 1858, 
and according to the published reports, its 
application to lighting a portion of the Girard 
House in that city, proved for several months 
perfectly satisfactory. It was introduced 
into the town of Aurora, Indiana, in January, 
1861, and according to the statements puD- 



ILLUMINATING GAS. 



153 



lished in the Cincinnati Daily Commercial, 
the operation had been very successful. 
The light is described as very brilliant, and 
the gas almost free from odor. The process 
appears to be similar to that of Mr. White, 
of Manchester, England, •which consists in 
the generation of the non-illuminating gases 
by the action of steam upon charcoal highly 
heated in a retort, the aqueous vapor being 
thereby decomposed, and various gaseous 
compounds produced by its hydrogen and 
oxygen combining with the carbon of the 
charcoal. If the operation is properly con- 
ducted these compounds should be almost 
entirely carbonic oxide and free hydrogen ; 
if carbonic acid is produced, as it may well 
be, even to the extent of one per cent., it 
may involve the expense of purification by 
means of a lime purifier. These gases are 
immediately passed througli another retort, 
in which the illuminating gases are genera- 
ted, and mixing with them the whole is im- 
mediately swept forward out of the reach of 
the high decomposing temperature. The 
material employed for furnishing the illumi- 
nating gas is either rosin or rosin oil gadual- 
ly dropped into the heated retort ; and it is 
stated that various other carbonaceous sub- 
stances, as the tar fro.-n the gas works and 
cheap greasy compounds, may bo economi- 
cally applied. 

Although this method of producing gas 
has been highly recommended by eminent 
English authorities, especially by Dr. Frank- 
land, an account of whose experiments and 
conclusions is given in the recent edition of 
TJ re's Dictionary (London, 1860), vol. i., p. 
"778, it has not been adopted by gas compa- 
nies, whose first interest it would be to avail 
themselves of such improvements, and it is 
reasonable to suppose there are some insu- 
perable objections to it. Indeed, in the last 
edition of Clegg's "Treatise upon the Man- 
ufacture and Use of Gas," the subject is 
passed by with scarcely any notice, although 
it had been in the previous edition treated 
in detail and with commendation. In the 
English Gas Journal, it is decidedly con- 
denmcd. No analyses of the gas thus pro- 
duced in tins country have ever been pub- 
lished, nor any reports of photometrical ex- 
periments that might establish its light-giv- 
ing capacity. As the subject for some time 
attracted much attention, and has given rise 
to extravagant expectations of cheap pro- 
duction of gas, it is very desirable that such 
trials and reports should be made by some 



competent chemist. In Philadelphia, the 
subject has given rise to a newspaper con- 
troversy, and the publications were embod- 
ied, in 1800, in a pamphlet entitled "The 
Water Gas Correspondence." They contain- 
ed nothing, however, to determine the real 
merits of the gas. 

Gas for Steamboats and Railroad 
Cars. — Several methods have recently been 
put in practice of furnishing gas for the con- 
venience of passengers in steam vessels, or 
upon railroads. One plan is to place in the 
boats or under the cars larcje cases of sheet 
iron, each one provided with a diaphragm 
or partition of india-rubber across its upper 
portion. A connection being made between 
the receptacle under the diaphragm and the 
street main, the gas fills this portion of the 
case and the connection is then shut off. 
When required for use, the gas is forced out 
by the pressure of air uniformly applied upon 
the upper suiface of the india-rubber sheet 
by means of a meter running by clock work. 
This method has so far been successful ; but 
danger is apprehended by some that atmos- 
pheric air may find its way through the 
flexible sheets, all of which are more or less 
permeable when used to separate different 
gaseous compounds, and that an explosive 
mixture may thus be introduced. 15y an- 
other plan of a New York company, the gas 
by means of force pumps is compressed into 
strong cylindrical gas-holders made like the 
boilers of steam engines. The gas is thus 
made to occupy a diminished space in pro- 
portion to the pressure used, that of 20 at- 
mospheres placing 1000 cubic feet of gas in 
50 feet space. In Jersey City, where this 
method has been applied to furnishing gas 
for railroad cars, the pressure employed is 
about 450 lbs. upon the square inch. Un- 
der this pressure the gas is conveyed through 
pipes to the points where the cars receive 
from them their supplies. The gas by its 
elasticity presses through the burners, and 
uniformity of discharge while this force is 
constantly diminishing is secured by a gov- 
ernor or regulator constructed on the princi- 
ple already described. 

Gas for Fuel. — Besides its use for pro- 
ducing light, gas has lately been applied to 
other domestic purposes for the sake of the 
heat it can be made to afford in burning. It 
was thus first used bv chemists, and mechan- 
ics, as bookbinders, then applied it in suit- 
able stoves to the heating of such tools as 
they required of a high temperature. After 



154 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



this stoves were contrived on different plans 
in wliich various culinary operations miiiht 
be conducted, and some also for warming 
rooms. Though it would appear to be an 
expensive fuel, it has been found for many 
purposes, in which only a certain amount of 
heal is required, and this for a short time, 
not merely exceedingly convenient, but even 
economical. No more need be consumed 
than is required to effect the desired pur- 
pose, and it is moreover applied directly to 
the object to be heated with httlc dispersion 
or waste of heat. But for warming rooms, it 
is objectionable, not only on account of its 
cost, but also from its vitiating the atmos- 
phere by the large amount of the noxious 
gases produced by its combustion. If these 
are conveyed away by ventilating flues, they 
carry with them a considerable portion of 
the caloric set free. No doubt when gas is 
afforded at lower rates, means will be devised 
of applying it more advantageously to this 
purpose. 



CHAPTER XI. 

HYDROCARBON OR COAL OILS. 

Notwithstanding the substitution in the 
cities and most of the towns of considerable 
size throughout the country of gas for oils, 
the demand for the latter has increased much 
faster than the supply, as is shown by the 
price for sperm oil being now more than 
three times what it was in 1843, when it 
brought about fifty-five cents per gallon. 
Besides its use for illuminating purposes, 
the consumption of oil is enormous for 
lubricating machinery. The railroads and 
steamboats, and the increasing numbers of 
large factories, demand such quantities of it 
that all the ordinary sources of supply were 
overtasked, and the whaling business former- 
ly so prosperous in New England, has fallen 
off in the face of advancing prices, or been 
forced to gather itself in fewer centres, where 
by concentration of its operations the busi- 
ness could be conducted with the greatest 
economy. From many seaports of New Eng- 
land this business has quite disappeared, and 
the following changes in others are reported 
to have taken place between the years 1843 
and 1859. In the former period New Bed- 
ford had 214 whale ships, and in 1859 the 
number had increased to 310. In New Lon- 
don, Conn., the number had increased from 
45 to 56, and m Mattapoiset from 11 to 19. 



In other towns the number of ships had fallen 
ofF as follows: Nantucket, to 33 from 85; Sag 
Harbor, to 20 from 43 ; Warren, R. I., to 15 
from 21, etc. At Fairhaven, 46 ships were 
owned at both periods. The manufacture of 
lard oil, which of late years has been exten- 
sively carried on in the Western states, failed 
to meet the increasing demands, when at last 
attention beg.an to be directed to the extrac- 
tion of oils from the bituminous coals and 
shales, by processes of recent introduction in 
France and England. The success attained 
by Mr. James Young, of Glasgow, in his treat- 
ment of the "Torbane II ill mineral," or Bog- 
head cannel of Scotland, served more than 
anything else to give encouragement to this 
enterprise. In 1854, according to the testi- 
mony of this practical chemist, in a lawsuit 
in London, lie was producing about 8000 
gallons a week of an oil he called paraffins 
oil, which sold for 5s. a gallon, the sales 
amounting in all to about $500,000 per an- 
num, of which the greater portion was profit. 
Operations of a similar character had for 
some time previously been conducted upon 
a largo scale at Autun, Department of the 
Saone and Loire, in France ; the materials 
employed being highly bituminous shales, 
probably not essentially difl'ercnt from the 
Torbane Hill mineral, except in producing 
much less oil to the ton. 

The first factory for making coal oil in the 
United States was established on Newtown 
Creek, Long Island, opposite New York city, 
and commenced operations in June, 1854. 
This was known as the Kerosene Oil Works, 
and was designed to work the Boghead can- 
nel, or coal of similar character from the 
province of New Brunswick, or from the 
AVest, by the patented process of Mr. Young. 
In Kentucky, Ohio, Virginia, and Pennsyl- 
vania cannel coals were found of suitable 
qualities for this manufacture; and in 1856 
the Breckenridge Coal Oil Works were in suc- 
cessful operation at Clovcrport, on the Ohio 
river, in Breckenridge county, Ky. The same 
j'car a factory was built in Perry county, 
Ohio, by Messrs. Dillie and Robinson, and 
others rapidly sprung up in the vicinity of 
Newark, wliich soon became an important 
centre of this new business. In 1858, sev- 
eral large factories were built in New Eng- 
land, one in Boston, and one in Portland, 
Maine. It is doublful whether Young was 
the first inventor or discoverer of this, for 
as we shall see, the late Baron von Reechen- 
bach had many years before distilled some 



HYDEOCARBON OR COAL OILS. 



155 



TABLE OF THE COAL OIL WORKS OF THE UNITED STATES. 



State. 



Town or county. 



Name of works- 



No. of factories. 



Maine, 
Massachusetts, 



Portland Portland Company 

Boston Downer Kerosene Co. . . . 

" Pape & Co 

" Suflblk Company 

" Pinkliam 

" Peasley 

East Cambridge E. Cambridge Company. . 

New Bedford New Bedford Company. . 

Harllord Hartford Company 

Stamford Stamford Company 

Newtown Creek, L. I Kerosene Oil Company. . 

'' Hunter's Ponit, L. I Liitlier Atwood 

" " Carbon Company 

" Soutii Brooklyn. Empire State Company. . 

" " Franklin Company 

" Williamsburgh Long Island Company. . . 

" " Knickerbocker Company. 

" " Fountain Oil Co 

" Harlem Beloni & Co 

" " Excelsior Company 

Pennsylvania, Darlington, Beaver Co Anderson & Co 



Connecticut, 
New York, 



Ohio, 



Virginia, 



Kiskiminitas Aladdin Company 

" Lucesco Company 

Freeport, Armstrong Co North American Company. 

New Galilee New Galilee 

Euon Valley. ... Enon Valley Company. . . . 

E. Palestine. Columbiana Co. . . .Palestine Company 

Canlield, Mahoning Co Cornell & Company 

" " Sherwood 

" " Phcenix 

" " Mystic 

" " Canfield 

Cleveland Dean 

Zanesville Brooks 

Cox 

Newark, Licking Co Great Western 

" " Three others 

Steubenville, Jefferson Co 

Coshocton Co 

Columb\is, Franklin Co 

Cincinnati Grasseli 

" Western Company 

" Phoenix Company 

Perry Co Robinson & Co 

Kanawha region Falling Rock Company. . . . 

.Forest Hill Company 



Kentucky, 
Kentucky, 

Missouri, 



" " Greers. 

" " Great Kanawha Company 

" " Staimton Company 

" " Atlantic Company 

" " Union Company 

" " K. C. C. M. and 0. M. Company... 

Preston Co Preston Company 

Monongalia Co White Bay Company 

Rilcliie Co Ritchie Company 

Wheeling New York and Wheeling Company. 

Taylor Co Marion Company 

Maysvillo, Mason Co Union Company 

" " Ashland 

Cloverport, Breckenridgc Co, 

Covington and Newport, opposite Cincinnati 

Owsley Co 

St. Louis 



Doily 

oapacity 

ill 1800. 

Gallons. 

4000 

4000 

600 

300 



800 
300 
200 



4000 

2000 

300 

300 

500 



400 
50 



2000 



500 



74 



156 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



ounces of a na|ihtha from pit coal, wliich was 
substantially identical witii Young's; and 
several other chemists claim to have arrived 
at similar results ; but Young was certainly 
the first to produce the oil on a commercial 
scale. 

So rapid was the increase in the deir.and 
for this oil, that in 18G0 there were nearly 
80 manufactories in the United States, em- 
ploying over $3,000,000 capiial, and produc 
ing oil naphthalin and |iaraHin to the amount 
of five millions of dollars annually. The 
coal oil manufacture had assumed at a bound, 
an importance, which gave it the leading 
place among the new manufactures of the 
previous decade. The production of iliii 
minating oils exceeded in that year ten mil- 
lion gallons, and about five millions of gallons 
of the heavy lubricating oils and paratline. 
The man who had predicted that within the 
next three years all this activity of produc- 
tion would cease, and another article then 
just coming into notice would supersede it, 
and attain to ten times its extent, would have 
been deemed litth' less than a mail-man. Yet 
this was precisely what happened. 

HISTORY AND METHOD OF THE MANUFACTURE. 

The pnssibilitv of extracting oil from bitu- 
minous minerals appears to have been known 
since the year 1694, a patent having been 
granted in January of that year to Martin 
Eele, Thomas Hancock, and William Port- 
lock, for "a way to extract and make great 
quantities of pitch, tarr, and oyle out of a 
sort of stone, of which there is a sufficient 
found within our dominions of England and 
Wales." This stone proved to be a bitumi 
nous shale ; and in 1716 it was again applied 
to similar use under another patent, gi-anted 
to M. it T. Helton, of Shrewsbury. In the 
course of the eighteenth centuiy the oily 
product obtained was employed to some ex- 
tent as a medicine, under the name of Brit- 
ish or petroleum oil. Though from time to 
time other patents were granted in England 
for the same process, the business never be- 
came of importance there until the success- 
ful trials were made by Mr. James Yoimg, 
of Glasgow, upon the Boghead caimel al- 
ready referred to. On the continent the 
subject was brought before the public by the 
researches of Baron Von Reichenbach iii 



1829, '30, and '31, when he discovered and 
separated numerous new compounds from 
the products of the slow distillation ot bitu- 
minous substances. The compound he named 
eupion is the same thing as the rectified oil 
now known as coal oil, paraffine oil, kerosene, 
photogenic, pyrogenic oil, and by other local 
or commercial names. lie appreciated its 
useful properties, and recommended the pros- 
ecution of further trials with the object of 
establishing the best mode of separating it. 
In France its character was understood in 
1824, when a patent was granted for its man- 
ufacture; and in 1833 factories were in op- 
eration for producing it. In 1S34 the meth- 
od adopted by Selliguc was first published, 
and in the specification of the patent granted 
to him, March 19, 1845, is a full account of 
tlie process as conducted in the works at 
Autun. This is still the best treatise pub- 
lished upon the manufacture, and notwith- 
standing the numerous patents which have 
since been issued, the improvements are lim- 
ited to comparatively unimportant modifica- 
tions of the apparatus. In the United States 
the first patent granted in this maiuifacture 
was in March, 1852, to James Young for his 
process, which in tliis country was first intro- 
duced at the kerosene oil works on Newtown 
Creek. The next year two patents were grant- 
ed, in 1854 and 1855 one each, in 1856 six, 
in 1858 seven, and in 1859 twenty-two. 

As mentioned in the preceding chapter, 
the products obtained by the distillation of 
bituminous substances vary according to the 
amount of heat employed and the manner 
ov its application, whether sudden or grad- 
ual. Coals thrown into red hot retorts are 
resolved into large quantities of gas, with 
the ])rodnction of inconsiderable <piantities 
of oily compounds heavier in the aggregate 
than water, and called coal tar. They cim- 
sist of a vai'iety of hydrocarbons, as the 
fluids dosigiuited by the name of naphtha, 
the white crystalline substance cjilled naph- 
thaline, tlio very volatile fiuid benzole, be 
sides carbolic acid and a great number of 
other curious and interesting compounds of 
hydrogen and carbon. In general they con- 
tain a less proportional amount of hydrogen 
than the pioducts obtained by .slow distilla 
tion, the fluids are denser, and their boihng 
points higher. 



HYDROCARBON OR COAL OILS. 



157 



When the bituminous substances are grad- 
ually and moderately heated in retorts, the 
production of gas is small, the carbon and 
hydrogen separating chiefly in the form of 
oily compounds of a greenish color, the spe- 
cific gravity of which is less than water. 
These compounds form what is called crude 
coal oil, and arc similar in appearance and 
composition to the natural petroleum, or rock 
oil, obtained in some places from the earth, 
as will be described in the next chapter. 
Benzole and naphthaline, products of the 
other method of distillation, are found, if at 
all, as a result of the employment of too 
high heat, and instead of the latter the waxy 
or spermaceti-like substance called parafline 
is generated and is held in solution in the 
oil-!, from which it may be separated by re- 
peated distillations, and draining ott" through 
filters and pressing out the fluid portions of 
the concentrated residues, at the lowest avail- 
able temperatures. The oily products are 
divisible into a great number of distinct 
compounds by means of repeated distilla- 
tions, each one being carefully conducted at 
a certain degree of temperature, and the 
product which comes over at this degree be- 
ing kept by itself. But in the large way 
they are separated into only three classes, 
which an; distinguished as the light oils for 
lamps, the heavy oils which are suitable for 
lubricating purposes, and paraffine. Some- 
times a mixture of the heaviest oils and par- 
affine is made use of and sold for wagon 
grease and such purposes; and the first prod- 
ucts which come over in the distillation are 
kept by themselves, and sold under the name 
of naphtha (or incorrectly as benzole) to be 
used as a solvent for the resins, caoutchouc, 
etc., and for removing grease spots from fab- 
rics. 

The proportions obtained from a ton of 
coal or shale are very variable. The Bog- 
head cannol yields, in well-conducted opera- 
tions, about 117 gallons of crude oil, from 
which the product of refined oil is about 60 
gallons. It can be made to ])roduce even 
l:iO gallons of crude oil, containing a larger 
proportion of refined oil than the 117 gal- 
lons ordinarih' obtained. The Breckenridgc 
coal yields from 90 to 100 gallons of crude 
oil, and this 50 to GO of refined oil. The 
Cannelton coal of Virginia is of similar 
qnalit}- to the Breckenridgc cannel. The 
coals of Ohio run from 55 to 87 gallons of 
crude oils to the ton, and those of Darling- 
ton, Penn., from 45 to 55 gallons. Besides 



the oils there also come over from the re- 
torts, as in the gas manufacture, a quantity 
of water rendered alkaline by tlie ammonia 
it holds. This collects at the bottom of the 
reservoirs into which the products are re- 
ceived, and the oil that floats upon the sur- 
face being removed the ammoniacal liquors 
are allowed to escape. 

While the general plan of the operations 
is the same in all the factories, the apparatus 
is variously modified. By Mr. Young's proc- 
ess the coal is distilled in cast-iron P -shaped 
retorts, like those employed in making gas, 
and the volatile products are passed by a 
worm through a refrigerator kept at a tem- 
perature of about 55° F. The oils as they 
condense drop from the end of the worm 
into a receiver. Many patents have been 
granted in Europe and in this country for 
different kinds of retorts. Some are made 
of cylindrical form and set upright in the 
furnace ; the charge is introduced at the top 
and drawn out, when exhausted, at the bot- 
tom ; the volatile products making their exit 
either through pipes at the top or at differ- 
ent heights. Some have been constructed 
of fire clay instead of cast iron. In order 
that the charge may be uniformly heated, 
revolving cylindrical retorts have been con- 
trived and patented, first in France many 
years ago, and recently in the United States. 
They are sometimes eight feet long and six 
feet diameter, suspended upon an axle at each 
end. They are charged through a manhole 
in the front end like the common horizontal 
retorts, and the vapors pass out through the 
axle at the opposite end, which is made hol- 
low for this purpose. Retorts of the size 
named are charged with about a ton of can- 
nel coal, and four such charges may be 
worked off in twenty-four hours. They re- 
volve slowly, about twice in a minute, thus 
turning the charge over and causing it to be 
uniformly exposed to the fire beneath. At 
the Lucesco works, thirty miles above Pitts- 
burg, on the Alleghany, ten large revolving 
retorts are stated to be in operation, each 
one of the capacity of two and a half tons. 
Thev are recommended for the rapidity with 
which the process is-conducted, and the large 
amount of oil obtained to the ton of coal 
while they continue in good order ; and on 
the other hand it is objected to them that 
the coal is apt to be ground to powder, and 
the dust is carried along with the vapors, ob- 
structing the condensing worm and adding 
to the cost of purification. They are, more- 



158 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



over, expensive to construct and liable to get 
out of order. 

By all these arrangements the fire wliicli 
causes tlie expulsion of the volatile matters 
is outside of the retorts. But the same ob- 
ject is also attained by the use of ovens and 
pits similar to those used for producing 
charcoal and coke, in which the material 
operated upon is itself partially consumed, 
to genei'ate the heat required to drive oft" so 
much of its volatile constituents as may es- 
cape combustion. Kilns thus designed for 
extracting coal oils liave been in use in this 
countrv and in Europe ; and in Yivgiuia, 
near Wheeling, the plan has been adopted 
of distilling the coal or shale in large pits 
dug in the ground of capacity sufhcient to 
contain 100 tons of the raw material. These 
are covered with earth, and the fire being 
started at one end, the heat spreads the vol- 
atile products forward, and they are drawn 
out at the opposite end by the exhausting 
action caused bv a jet of steam, and received 
into suitable condensing apparatus. Some 
of the kilns are constructed to be fired at 
the bottom, and the vapors then pass up- 
ward through the charge, and are conveyed 
in pipes from the top to the ci'udensers. 
The kilns of tlie Kerosene Oil Company, 
patented by Mr. Luther Atwood, are made 
open at the top, and a downward draught 
through the charge, which is fired on the 
upper surface, is produced by a steam jet 
thrown into the eduction pipe that jiasses 
out from the bottom of the kiln. A partial 
vacuum is thus produced, causing a current 
of air to flow in from the kiln. At the 
works of this company there are IS of these 
kilns in shape like a circular lime kiln, built 
of ordinary brick and lined with fire brick. 
They are 20 feet high and 12 feet diameter 
inside, each one having a capacity of over 
25 tons of coal. When this amount of 
Boghead cannel is introduced it is covered 
with about four tons of Cumberland coal and 
a quantitj' of pine wood. This is set on 
fire, and at the same time the steam jet is 
let on. The heated gases from the com- 
bustibles above pass through the bituminous 
materials below ; but little air reaches these 
that is not already de))rived of its power of 
sustaining further combustion. The volatile 
products are gradually ex])clled before the 
slowly increasing lieat, and the operation is 
not completed till the expiration of four 
days. It is hastened or checked, as may be 
necessary, by means of the steam jet by 



which the draught is controlled. What is 
left in the kiln is unconsumed coal and ashes 
— no good coke is produced. The condens- 
ers at these works are tall cylinders of boil- 
er-plate iron. Passing through a succession 
of these the vapors collect and trickle down 
tlieir sides, and the mixed oily and aqueous 
products are received into iron vats placed 
in the ground. The uncondensable gases 
escape into the open air from the top of the 
last of the cylinders. From the vats the oil 
rising to the surface flows over into a con- 
duit that leads to a large cistern in the 
ground of the capacity of 40,000 gallons. 
The water at the same time is discharged by 
a pipe, one end of which is at the bottom 
of the vat, and the other is bent over its up- 
per edge, the flow being caused by the dif- 
ference of an inch in the elevation of the 
suiface of the two vats. Some oil ;s car- 
ried over into the second vat, and this is 
separated by a repetition of the same ar- 
rangement, and so on through several vats, 
till the ammoniacal waters are finally allowed 
to escape after being first received into a 
large cistern, where some oil still collects 
upon the surface, and is removed by occa- 
sional skimming. 

Still another method of conducting the dry 
distillation is by the introduction of highly 
heated steam into the retorts, as patented 
by Mr. William Brown, in 1853, in England 
and in this country, though this seems also 
to have been used in the original operations 
of Selligue in Franco. The etlect of the 
steam is to aid in heating the charge, while 
at the same time the vapors are taken up 
and carried along by it, and protected from 
being burned or decomposed by remaining 
in contact with the hot suifaces of the re- 
tort. In the subsequent distillation of the 
crude oil, high steam is similarly applied in 
the stills. 

Nearly the same process of refining is 
practised at all the factories. The crude oil 
is pumped up into large stills of cast or 
boiler-plate iron, with cast-iron bottoms two 
inches thick. The capacity of these at the 
works above referred to is 1500 gallons 
each, and the time required for distilling ofi' 
this amount of oil is 24 hours. They arc 
heated by fires of anthiacite and c<ike, the 
latter being itself a product of the distilla- 
tion and obtained from the inside of the stills 
after each heat. It is deposited from the crude 
oil and forms a solid and extremely hard in- 
crustation which is sometimes nearly a foot 



HYDROCARBON OR COAL OILS. 



159 



thick upon the bottom of the stills. It 
is a much superior coke to that obtained 
from the gas retorts, and in its structure is 
coarsely honey-combed in the upper or last 
formed portions, gradually growing closer 
and more compact toward the bottom 
upon which it adlieres. The distillation 
should be conducted at a temperature not 
exceeding 800° F., and the process maj' be 
rendered continuous by admitting a small 
stream of oil into the stills. The vapors 
passing through the goose-neck are con- 
densed in a long worm kept in the water con- 
denser, which should bo, in the latter part of 
the distillation, at a temperature of 80° or 
more. It is necessary to guard against so low 
temperatui'c as might cause the paraffine to 
solidify in the worm, wliich by st(ip|>ing the 
flow of the products might result in blowing 
up the still. The heat is carefully regulated 
so that the oil comes over uniforndy, flowing 
from the end of the worm in a steady stream. 
It is still of a greenish color, wilh more or less 
of its peculiar, disagreeable odor. Yet it is 
evidently purified to a considerable extent 
bv its separation fi-om the free carbon and 
other impurities, usually amounting to 10 
or 12 per cent., which are left behind in 
the stills. The oils are next pumped into 
hu-go cylindrical cisterns called agitators, to 
imdergo the chemical treatment, which is 
in general the same as that practised by 
Sellifrue. An addition is nuide to them of a 
quantity of sulphuric acid, it may be to the 
amount of 5 per cent. The mixture is 
then violently agitatecl or made to sweep 
rapidly round by stiirers in the cisterns, 
moved by machinery. The pure oil and 
paraffine are unaffected by the chemical 
agents, but the carbonaceous particles and 
coloring matters are more or less charred and 
oxidized, and their condition is so changed 
that when the mixture is left for some hours 
to repose, thev subside in great part togeth- 
er with the acid, and these can then be 
drawn off leaving the partially purified oil in 
the upper portion of the cisterns. This is 
ne\t washed with about one fifth its quantity 
of water, which retnoves tlie soluble impu- 
rities and a portion of the remaining acid. 
These, after subsiding, being drawn off, a 
strong Ive of potash or soda is introduced 
into the oil, which neutralizes and fixes what 
acid remains, and ca\ises the precipitation of 
flirt her portions of the coloring and tarry 
matters. The mixture is again agitated and 
is then left six hours to repose, after which 



the sediment being drawn off, it is again 
washed with water, and this too, with the 
matters it has taken up, are drawn off. In 
some places chalk or lime has been employ- 
ed instead of the alkaline lye to neutralize 
and fix the acid, and the chemical treatment, 
as it is called, is in other respects variously 
modified. Thougli tliis has been designated 
the "cold" treatment, the temperature should 
not be allowed to fall below 90° during these 
processes. 

At last the oils freed from most of their 
impurities are introduced into stills like 
those of the first set. The product which 
first comes over is a very light oil somewhat 
discolored, which is soon followed by a clear 
oil having little odor. This gradually in- 
creases in density from 0.733 to 0.820, up 
to which point the mixture of oils is class- 
ed as illuminating, and is without further 
preparation sufhciently pure to be at once 
barrelled fm- the market. After this the in- 
creasing depth of the color and the greater 
density of the product indicate that the 
light oils have been nearly exhausted, and 
the remaining portions are hence kept by 
themselves to afford the heavy lubricating 
oils, and also it may be, by means of fiac- 
tional distillation, the additional quantities 
of light oils they still contain, and finally 
the paiafRne which is chiefly concentrated 
with the last portions. This substance when 
sejiarated fnnn the oils by filtration and 
pressiu'e at low temperatures, is of a dark 
color and somewhat oflensive odor; and to 
bleach and deodorize it have proved to be 
somewhat troublesome and expensive opera- 
tions. Exposure to the sunlight has a bleach- 
ing eft'ect; but the jirocesses for this purpo.se 
have not yet been made public. When ob- 
tained perfectly pure and white, difficulties 
have been encountered in running it into 
candles, which are not common to other ma- 
terials used for this purpose. When cooled 
in ordinary moulds the paraffine would crack 
in lines radiating from the wick, and the ex- 
terior would present a clouded, mottled sur- 
face. The method of obviating this difficul- 
ty, as described in the French work, " Le 
Technologist e," of 1859, is to use a mould 
in. two parts, that part for the point of the 
candle working in the other like a piston. 
These moulds being brought to the temper- 
ature of melted paraffine are filled and then 
immediately plunged into water at nearly the 
freezing point. Having remained 3 or 4 
minutes, they are taken out and exposed to 



160 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



a current of cool air for 15 or 20 minutes. 
The candles then come out, as the movable 
part of the mould is pushed in, free from 
defects. This method is successfulh' intro 
diiced into the United States. Parafflnc 
candles have been made at some of the coal 
oil works, as at those of Xew York, New 
Bedford, and Portland. They are of beauti- 
ful appearance, resembling the best sperm 
candles, and at the same time are more eco- 
nomical for the amount of light they afford. 
The oil that is pressed out from the paraffine 
is useful chiefly as a lubricator, and from the 
low tompei'ature at which it is obtained, if 
for no other reason, it is insured against 
chilling in cold weather. The residue in 
the stills, is a mixture of the tarry matters 
with the portion of the chemical ingredients 
that was introduced with the oils. For this 
no use is found. The heavy oils find their 
principal application in lubricating machin- 
ery, and large quantities are consumed for 
this purpose upon the Western railroads. 
The heavier natural oils of C)hio, when wash- 
ed clean from the sand that comes up with 
them, are also very well adapted for this 
use ; but it is found advantageous to mix 
either the crude or manufactured article 
■with an equal quantity of lard oil. The 
petroleum corrects the tendency of this to 
gum and chill, while it receives additional 
body from the lard oil. Another use for 
the heavy oils is for cleansing wool in the 
M-oollen fectories, and where they have been 
tried for this purpose, they have been pre- 
ferred to other oils. In currying leather, 
also, they are said to have proved a good 
substitute for fish oil. Experiments have 
been made with them in C)hio, for mixing 
paints, and the crude heavier kinds, as those 
of Mecca, treated in the same manner as 
linseed oil, boiling them with dryers, etc., 
formed a good body, covered the wood well, 
di'ic<l rapid!}' and perfectly, and formed a 
smooth, hard surface, retaining no od<ir. 
The great abundance of the supply of petro- 
leum .at the West induced some speculation 
as to the probability of the hydrocarbon 
oils being usuil for fiiel for steamboats, loco- 
motives, and wherever a liighly concentrated, 
portable, and manageable fuel is required. 
For domestic uses, also, such as require a 
fire onl}' a little while at a time, the coal 
oils were conveniently used in suitable stoves 
in the same manner that ga9 is applied to 
the same purpose. But experiments are 
wanting to establish the rate per gallon al 



which it might enter into competition with 
other fuels upon a larger scale. Besides tha 
heavy and light oils, no other valuable pro- 
ducts result from the distillation of the coal 
oils. Benzole is sai<l not to be a product of 
this process. It belongs, together with a 
special class of hydrocarbons designated as 
the benzole series, to the tar of the gas 
works ; and if ever obtained in the coal oil 
distillation, it was declared that it must be 
by bad management and tiie use of excess 
of heat. It was found, after the discovery 
and practical adoption of the petroleum as 
an illuminating fluid, that from this, by tha 
refining and distilling processes, not only 
benzine but naptha and other still more vol- 
atile hydrocarbons were produced, and the 
princi])al difficulty in reducing the petroleum 
to a safe and non-explosive illuminator was 
to rid it of these very volatile oils. It is 
probable that they did exist in nearly the 
same form in the coal oils but had not been 
skilfully eliminated at first. 

The lighter coal oils were superior in 
many respects to most of the articles pre- 
viously used for purposes of illumination. 
Their odor, though not very agreeable, was 
better than that of most of the sperm or lard 
oils, and the spots made by spilling them on 
articles of dress or furniture were removed 
with less ditRculty than those of the fatty 
oils. They were also far less liable to ex- 
plosion than the so-called " burning fluids," 
which were previously in very general use, 
but were constantly proilucing terrible acci- 
dents and loss of life. They were, if burned 
in properly-constructed lamps, much less dis- 
agreeable and liable to smoke than campliene. 

But the reign of the coal oils for purposes 
of illumination was destined to be of short 
duration ; for petroleiun, or as it came to be 
called when refined for illumhiating purposes, 
"kerosene oil," became fo abundant in I8GI 
and 1862, and received such an extensive 
develoi)ment, that the distillation of oil from 
coals, both for illuminating and lubricating 
purposes almost ceased after 1 803. An effort 
was, indeed, made in ISG.'J and 1864 to dis- 
til these oils on a large scale from the bitu- 
minous shales of Kentucky ; but though the 
material could be had at tlie cost of breaking 
it up, and the process of distillation was very 
simple, the flowing wells of Western Penn- 
sylvania, and West Virginia, fin-nished crude 
petroleum so cheaply that this undertaking 
proved unprofitable. 



PETROLEUM, OR ROCK Oil. 



161 



CHAPTER XII. 
PETROLEUM, OR ROCK OIL. 

The occwrrence of an oily fluid oozing in 
some regions from the surface of the earth, 
coming out with the springs of water, and 
forming a layer upon its surface, has been 
noticed from ancient times, and the oil has 
been collected by excavating pits and canals, 
and also by sinking deep wells. Bakoo, a 
town on the west side of the Caspian Sea in 
Georgia, has long been celebrated for its 
s])ring.s of a very pure variety of petroleum 
or naphtha, and the annual value of this 
product, according to M. Abicli, is about 
3,000,000 francs, and might easily be made 
as large again. Over a tract about 25 miles 
long and half a mile wide, the strata, which 
are chiefly argillaceous sandstones of loose 
texture, belonging to the medial tertiary 
formation, are saturated with the oil, and 
hold it like a sponge. To collect it large 
open wells are sunk to the depth of 16 to 
20 feet, and in these the oil gathers and is 
occasionally taken out. That obtained near 
the centre of the tract is clear, slightly yel- 
low, like Sauteme wine, and as pure as dis- 
tilled oil. Toward the margins of the tract 
the oil is more colored, first a yellowish 
green, then reddish brown. In the environs 
of Bakoo arc! hills of volcanic rocks through 
which bituminous springs flow out. Jets 
of carburetted hydrogen are common in the 
district, and salt, which is almost always 
found with petroleum springs, abounds in 
the neighborhood. 

Another famous locality of natural oils is 
in Burmah, on the banks of the Irrawaddy, 



near Prome. Fifty years ago it was reported 
there were about 520 wells in this region, 
and the oil from them was used for the sup- 
ply of the whole empire and many parts of 
India. The town of Rainanghong is the 
centre of the oil district, and its inhabitants 
are chiefly employed in manufacturing earth- 
en jars for the oil, immense numbers of 
which are stacked in pyranjids outside the! 
town, like shot in an arsenal. The forma- 
tion containing the oil consists of sandy- 
clays resting on sandstones and slates. The 
lowest bed reached by the open wells, which 
are sometimes 60 feet deep, is a pale blue 
argillaceous slate. Under this is said to be 
coal (tertiary ?) The oil diips from the 
slates into the wells, and is collected as at 
Bakoo. The annual product is variously 
stated at 412,000 hogsheads, and at 8,000,- 
000 pounds. 

The Burmese petroleum has recently been 
imported into Great Britain, and is employ- 
ed at the great candle manufactory of 
Messrs. Price & Co., at Belmont and Sher- 
wood. It is described as a semi-fluid naph- 
tha, about the consistence of goose grease, 
of a greenish brown color, and a peculiar, 
but not disagreeable odor. It is used by the 
natives, in the condition in which they ob- 
tain it, as a lamp-fuel, as a preservati\e of 
timber against insects, and as a medicine. 
It is imported in hermetically closed metal- 
lic tanks, to prevent the loss of any of its 
constituents by evaporation. At the works 
it is distilled first with steam under ordinary 
pressure, and then by steam at successively 
increasing temperatures, with the following 
results : — 



Teinneraturo. 

Fahr. 
Below 212° 


Troportional 

product. 

11 


230" to 293° 


10 


293° to 320° 




320° 10 612° 


20 


About 612° 


31 




(21 


Above 612° 


\ 3 




i 



Character of product. 
Mixture of fluid hydrocarbons free from parafBne. 

" " " containing a little paraffine. 

Distillate very small in quantity. 
Containing paraffine, but still fluid at 32°. 

Product whicli solidifies on cooling, and may be submitted to pressure. 
Fluids witli much paraffine. 
Pitchy matters. 
Besidue of coke, and a little earthy matter in the still. 



Nearly all the paraffine may be separated 
from the distillates by exposing these to 
freezing mixtures ; and the total product of 
this solid hydrocarbon is estimated at 10 or 
11 per cent. 

Many other localities might be named 
which furnish the natural oils upon a less 
extensive scale, as in Italy, France, and Switz- 
erland. In Cuba impure varieties of bitu- 
10* 



men are met with flowing up through fissures 
in the rocks and .spreading over the surface 
in a tarry incrustation, which sometimes so- 
lidifies on cooling. In the island of Trin- 
idad, three fourths of a mile back from the 
coast, is a lake called the Tar Lake, a mile 
and a half in circumference, apparently filled 
with impure petroleum and asphaltum. The 
latter, more or less charged in its numerous 



162 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



cavities with liquid bitumen, forms a solid 
crust around the margin of the lake, and in 
the centre the materials appear to be in a 
liquid boiling condition. The varieties 
contain more or less oil, and methods have 
been devised of extracting this ; but the 
chief useful ap]ilication of the material seems 
to be for coating the timbers of ships to 
protect them from decay. By the patent- 
ed process of Messrs. Atvvood of New York, 
the crude tar of this locality having been 
twice subjected to distillation, and treated 
with sulphuric acid and afterward with an 
alkali, as in the method of purifying the 
coal oils, is then further purified by tlie use 
of permanganite of soda or of potash. Be- 
ing again distilled it yields an oil of specific 
gravity 0.900, which'is fluid at 32° F., and 
boils at GOO'^ F. 

In the I'nited States the existence of pe- 
troleum has long been known, and the arti- 
cle lias been collected and sold for medicinal 
purposes ; chiefly for an external application, 
though sometimes administered internally. 
It was formerly procured by the Seneca In- 
dians in western New York and Pennsyl- 
vania, and was hence known as Seneca or 
Genesee oil. At various [ilaces it was rec- 
ognized along a belt of country passing 
from this portion of New York across the 
nortli-west part of Pennsylvania into Ohio. 
In the last-named state it was obtained in 
such ([uantity in the year 1819, by means 
of wells sunk for salt water, that it is a little 
remarkable the value of the material was not 
then appreciated, and the means perceived 
of obtaining it to any amount. The follow- 
ing description of the operations connected 
with the salt boiings then in progress on 
the Little Muskingum, in the south-western 
part, of the state, written in 1819, was first 
published in the American Journal of Sci- 
ence in 1826: " They have sunk two wells 
which are now more than 400 feet in depth; 
one of them alTords a very strong and ptii'e 
water, but not in great quantity. The other 
discharges sm'h vast quantities of jietroleum, 
or as it is vulgarly called, ' Seneka oil,' and 
besides is subject to such tremendous explo- 
sions of gas, as to force out all the water 
and afl'ord nothing but gas for several days, 
that they make but little or no salt. Never- 
theless, the petroleimi affords considerable 
profit, and is beginning to be in demand for 
lamps in workshops and manufactones. It 
art'ords a clear blight light, when burnt in 
this w;a\', and will be a valuable article for 



lighting the street lamps in the future cities 
of Ohio." Several coal-beds were penetrated 
in sinking these wells. 

In north-western Pennsylvania the exist- 
ence of oil in the soil along the valleys of 
some of the streams was known to the early 
settlers. One stream, in consequence of its 
appearance in the banks, was called Oil 
Creek. In other localities also it was no- 
ticed, and similar occurrences of oil were 
observed at some places in western Virginia 
and eastern Kentucky. At Tarentum above 
Pittsburg, oil was obtained by boring about 
the year 1845. Two springs were opened 
in boring for salt, and they have continued 
to yield small quantities of oil, sometimes a 
barrel a daj-. This has been used only for 
medicinal purposes. On Oil Creek two lo- 
calities were especially noted, one close to 
the northern line of Venango conntv, half a 
mile below the village of Titusville, and one 
14 miles further down the stream, a mile 
above its entrance into the Allegliany river. 
All the way below the upper locality through 
the narrow valley of the creek are ancient 
pits covering acres of ground, once dug and 
used for collecting oil after the method now 
practised in Asia. Cleared from the mud 
and rubbish with which they are- mostly fill- 
ed, some of them are found to be supported 
at the sides with logs notched at the ends as 
if done by whites, and it has been supposed 
by some that this is the work of the French 
who occupied that region the first half of the 
last century. Others think the Indians dug 
the pits, and in proof of this they cite the 
account given by Day, in his " History of 
Pennsylvania," of the use of the oil by the 
Seneca Indians as an unguent and in their 
religious worship. They mixed with it their 
paint with which they anointed themselves 
for war ; and on occasions of their most im- 
portant assemblages, as was graphically de- 
scribed by the commandant of Fort Du- 
quesne in a letter to General Montcalm, they 
set fire to the scum of oil which had collect- 
ed on the surface of the water, and at sight 
of the flames gave forth triumphant shouts 
which made the hills re-echo again. In this 
ceremony the commandant thought he saw 
revived the ancient fire worship, such as was 
once practised in Bakoo, the sacred city of 
the Guebres or Fire Worshippers. 

The old maps of this portion of Pennsyl- 
vania indicate several places in Venango and 
Crawfor«l counties where oil sjMings had been 
noted by the early .settlers. They made some 



PETROLEUM, OR ROCK OIL. 



103 



use of the uil, collecting it b\- spreading a 
woollen cloth upon the pools of water below 
the spi-ings, and when the cloth was satu- 
rated with the oil wringing it out into vessels. 
The two springs referred to on Oil Creek 
furnished small quantities of oil as it was re- 
quired, and from a third, twelve miles below 
Titnsville in the middle of the creek, the own- 
er lias procured 20 barrels or more of oil in 
a year.* In 1854 Messrs Eveletli and Bissell 
of New York purchased the upper spring, 
and leased mineral rights o\-er a portion of 
the \alk'y. They then obtained from Prof. 
B. Silliman, jr., of New Haven a report upon 
the qualities of the oil, and in 1855 organ- 
ized a comjiany in New York called the 
" Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company," to en- 
gage in its exploration. The .same year a 
new company under the same name, formed 
in New Haven and organized under the laws 
of Connecticut, succeeded to the riglits of 
the old company ; but for two years they 
made no progress in develo|)ing the re- 
sources of the property they had acquired. 
In December, 1857, thoj- concluded an agree- 
ment with Messrs. Bowditch and Drake of 
New Haven to undertake the search for oil. 
To the enterprise of Col. E. L. Drake, who 
removed to Titnsville and prosecuted the 
business in the face of serious obstacles, the 
region is indebted for the important results 
which followed. After a well had been 
sunk and curbed near the spring, ten feet 
square and sixteen feet deep, boring was 
commenced in the spring of 1850, and on 
the i!6th of August, at the depth of seventy- 
one feet, the diill suddenly sank four inches, 
and when taken out the oil rose within five 
inches of the surface. At first a small pump 
threw up about 400 gallons daily. By in- 
troducing a larger one the flow was increased 
to 1000 gallons in the same time. Though 
the pumping was continued by steam power 
for months no diminution was experienced 
in the flow. Tlie success of this enterprise 
produced great excitement, and the lands up- 
on the creek were soon leased to parties, who 
undertook to bore for oil for a certain share 
of the product, sometimes advancing besides 
a moderate sum to the owner. 

The country was overrun by explorers for 
favorable sites for new wells, and borings 
were undertaken along the valley of the Al- 



* See a pamplilet by Thomas A. Gale, published 
In Erie, Penn , 1860, entitled "Rock Oil in Pennsyl- 
vania and elsewhere." 



leghany river, and up the French Creek 
above Franklin. The summer of 1860 wit- 
nessed unwonted activity and enterprise in 
this hitherto quiet portion of the state, whore 
the population had before known no other 
pursuits than farming and lumbeiing. Every 
farm along the deep, narrow valleys, sudden- 
ly acquired an extraordinary value, and in 
the vicinity of the most successful wells vil- 
lages sprung up as in California during the 
gold excitement, and new branches of manu- 
facture were all at once introduced for sup- 
plying to the oil men the barrels required 
for the oil and the tools employed in boring 
the wells. From Titnsville to the mouth of 
Oil Creek, about 1 5 miles, the derricks of the 
well borers were everywhere seen. On the 
Alleghany river the number below Tidioute 
in Warren eountj-, south into Venango coun- 
t}', showed that this portion of the district 
was especially pi-oductive, and the same 
might be said of the vicinity of the town 
of Franklin, both up the Alleghany river and 
French Creek. The wells had amounted to 
several hundred, or according to one pub- 
lished statement, to full 2000 in number be- 
fore the close of the year, and from an esti- 
mate published in the Venango Spectator, 
(Franklin) 74 of these on the 21st of No- 
vember were producing the following daily 
yield : — 

No. of wells. Prod. tbis. 

On Oil Creek, 33 485 

" Upper Alleghany river, 20 442 

Franklin, 15 139 

Two Mile Run, 3 64 

French Creek, 3 35 

Total, 1i 1165 

The capacity of the barrel is 40 gallons, and 
at the low estimate of only 20 cents tlie gal- 
lon the total value of the daily product is 
not far from $10,000. The depth of the 
wells is in a few instances less than 100 feet. 
The shallowest one reported, belonging to 
the Tidioute Island Oil Company, was 67 
feet deep, and its product was 30 barrels a 
day. In general the depth is from 180 to 
280 feet; one well in Fi'anklin is 502 feet in 
depth, and one on Oil Creek 425 feet. Tlie 
deepest wells are not the most productive, 
and the fact of their being extended beyond 
the ordinary depths may generally be con- 
sidered an evidence of their failure to pro- 
duce much oil. There are exceptions, how- 
ever, to this, one of the deepest wells, that 
of Hoover and Stewart, three miles below 
Franklin, producing largely of excellent oil. 



164 



MINING INDHSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



The selection of localities for boring is 
verj' much a matter of chance. Proximity 
to profhictive wells is the fii'st desideratum ; 
but this, when attainable, is not always at- 
tended with success. The oil does not ap- 
pear to be spread out, as the rocks lie in 
horizontal sheets, or if so there are many 
places where it does not find its way iietweon 
tlie strata, and wells near together from 
which oil is pumped do not always draw 
upon each other. No doubt the system of 
crevices and pervious strata through which 
the oil flows in its subterranean cui'rents, is 
very irregular and interrupted. The valleys 
to which the operations are limited are nar- 
row, and are bounded on each side by hills, 
the summits of which, from 2.50 to 400 feet 
above the bottoms, are on the general level 
of the country. The increased expense that 
would be incurred in sinking from the upper 
surftice and in afterward raising the oil to 
this height, as also the uncertainty of find- 
ing oil elsewhere than in the valleys, have so 
far prevented the exploratioirs being extend- 
ed beyond the creek and river bottoms ; but 
it cannot be long before the capacity of the 
broad districts between the streams to pro- 
duce oil is thoroughly tested. At present 
the most favorable sites are supposed to be 
near a break in the hills that form the mar- 
gin of the valley, as where a branch comes 
into the main stream. An experiment is al- 
ready undertaken to test the high grounds 
west of Tidioute branch. 

As the bituminous coals are known as a 
source of hydrocarbon oils, it is natural to 
suppose that the springs of oil found near 
the coal region are fed from the coal beds or 
bituminous shales of the coal formation. 
But it happens that only a few oil springs 
of western Pennsylvania have been struck 
in the coal-measures themselves, and that 
some of these are sunk into the underlying 
groups of rock to reach the supplies of oil. 
The oil districts are in general outside of the 
coal-field and upon the outcrop of lower 
formations which pass beneath the coal-meas- 
ures, the whole having a general conformity 
of dip. Uence the slope of the strata is 
toward the coal, and an obstacle is thus pre- 
sented to the flow of the oil fiom the coal- 
field toward its margin ; and though under 
some circumstances the elastic pressure of 
the carburetted hydrogen gas might force 
the oil considerable distances from its source, 
it is hardly to be supposed that this should 
first find its way down into lower formations 



and then be carried many miles (;}0 to 50) 
and find its outlet in another district, rather 
than to the surfiice at some nearer point. 
The strata of north-western Pennsvlvania 
lie nearly horizontallv, their general inclina- 
tion being toward the south. The highest 
rock upon the summits of the hills of the 
oil region is the conglomerate or pebbly 
rock (the floor of the coal-measures). Be- 
neath this are series of thin bedded sand- 
stones, slates, and shales, alternating with 
each other with frequent repetitions. The 
shales, often of an olive green color, are read- 
ily recognized as belonging to the Chemung 
and Portage groups of the New York geol- 
ogists — a formation which overspreads this 
portion of the country, extending in New 
York two thirds of the way toward Lake 
Ontario and as far east as Binghamton. It 
is also continued through Ohio, crossing the 
C)hio river at Portsmouth, and in this state 
is known as the AYaverley series. Under this 
is a heavy bed of bituminous shale, 200 or 
300 feet thick, called in Ohio the black slate 
and in New York the Hamilton shales. This 
group contains an immense amount of car- 
bonaceous matter, and oil is often dissem- 
inated through it. Sometimes it runs out 
in springs and finds an outlet by the occa- 
sional fissures in the beds. Dr. J. S. New- 
berr)', who has given much attention to this 
suliject, is of opinion that this formation 
contaius sufficient carbonaceous material to 
be the source of the oil, and that the more 
porous and open shales and sandstones of 
higher formations are its reservoii's. Such 
is the geological formation of the Seneca oil 
region and of the oil springs of Canada 
West, which are the districts affording this 
product most remote from the coal-field. 
But from whatever source the oil may be 
derived, its origin is at the best very ob- 
scure, and little light can be thrown upon 
the probability of the supply long enduring 
the heavy drain made upon it by hundreds 
of wells worked by powerful steam pumps. 
But though actual experience alone must 
determine the extent of the quantities of oil 
stored up and the period they will last, there 
is certainly encouragement to be drawn from 
the never-failing yield of the oil districts of 
Asia, which for centuries have poured forth 
without stint their rivers of oil. 

The sinking of wells is conducted after 
the usual method of boring artesian wells. 
After much uncertain consideration of the 
chances, a particular spot is selected, more, 



PETROLEUM, OR ROCK OIL. 



165 



perliaps, from the hope of its being the right 
one than from any very practical grounds 
for tlie clioice ; but as the oil flows only in 
ciovices among the strata, the location is 
fre(|U<'ntly determined — other things being 
etiiial — bv the prospect of reaching the rock 
at a fc^w foet fi'om the surface, and thereby 
avoiding the necessity of sinking an open well 
or driving pipes through unknown obstacles 
down to the rock. If the bed rock is found 
within ten or fifteen feet, the boring is be- 
gun at once. The derrick being raised, an 
elm, hickory, hemlock, or other elastic tim- 
ber is cut down, some 25 or ;?0 feet in length. 
The larger end is fixed in a notch of a tree, or 
heavy post planted in the ground, and another 
post is set under it at a distance from the 
but determined bv the elasticity of the tim- 
ber. The .spring of the pole should be suf- 
ficient to raise the drill quickly, with its 
iron connecting rods, weighing often 800 
pounds. The rods are suspended from the 
free end of the pole by a swivel or simple 
bolt-head, turning freely around. At the 
commencement of the boring, the rods being 
very short do not weigh more, including the 
drill, than 70 or 80 pounds. Two men, 
therefore, jerk them forcibly down, to in- 
crease the momentum of the drill; the spring 
of the pole immediately raises the drill f )r 
the next stroke, while at each blow a man 
gives it a slight iuin so that it may cut a 
round hole. Several other methods are em- 
ployed for making the pole spring; by one, 
which is conveniently worked without em- 
ploying steam or horse power, a sort of 
double stirrup is suspended from the pole 
into which two men place each a foot, and 
pressing the stirrup suddenly down it imme- 
diately springs up again with the drill. This 
is much used, though some wells are sunk by 
horse-power machinery, and some by steam 
engines of four or five horse power. 

As the well is constantly deepening, while 
the stroke of the spring-pole (about 80 inch- 
es) remains constant, a vertical adjusting 
screw about 1 8 inches in length is attached 
to the end of the spring-pole ; the rope is 
clamped to the lower end or nut of this 
screw, and then extended to the pulley above. 
As the well deepens, a slight turn of the 
screw lowers the rope with the rods attached 
to it, and thus keeps the drill always free to 
fall to the bottom with an equal stroke. The 
work is continued, by a constant succession 
of strokes, to a depth of about fifty feet, 
successive lengths of iron rods being screw- 



ed on as the hole deepens — increasing the 
weight of the tools to about 300 pounds. 
The u.se of any additional rods is then dis- 
pensed with, and the upper rod is suspended 
by a rope attached to the spring-pole, and 
continued above the pole around a pulley 
and windlass, used to raise the boring tools 
when it is necessary to draw them out. 
They are drawn up in this manner at inter- 
vals of an hour or two, in order to sharpen 
and temper the drill, and to make room for 
the sand pump. This is a thin iron tube, a 
little more than half the diameter of the hole, 
with a simple valve at the bottom opening up- 
ward. It is lowered by a cord to the bottom 
of the well, then raised up with a jerk, and suf- 
fered to drop again by its own weight. This is 
repeated quickly eight or ten times ; a whirl 
is thus produced in the water below which 
stirs up the mud and small pieces of broken 
stone; as the tube drops, the mud and small 
stones enter the open valve and are retained 
when the tube is drawn out. 

The jarrers are employed to increase the 
force of the spring-pole when the drill hap- 
pens to be wedged in the hole b)' broken 
pieces of stone or by other obstructions. 
They are two rectangnlar links about 18 
inches in length, formed of stout bars of 
iron, and connecting the upper rods with the 
lower. When the drill descends to the bot- 
tom, the upper link, as it descends, slips 
down eight or ten inches in the lower link, 
and when the pole springs up the upper link 
has the advantage of moving through this 
space, and thereby giving a sudden upward 
jerk to the drill rod. The force of this up- 
ward jerk is greatly increased by a heavy rod 
introduced above the upper link, and which, 
as it moves up, lends its momentum to the 
stroke. 

The hole is carried down by three men 
at dift'orent rates according to the nature 
of the strata encountered, varying from a 
foot or less to six feet in a day. In tlie 
hard sandstones of quartz pebbles firmly uni- 
ted together, two or three inches sinking in 
li3 hours may be all the progress practicable. 
The material brought up is carefully scanned 
for any oily appearance indicating the prox- 
imity of oil, and the well is watched to ob- 
serve if any carburetted hydrogen gas escapes 
from it, which is considered a favorable sign. 

The process of drilling in the rock is con- 
sidered by all concerned in boring for petro- 
leum, a very simple and even welcome oper- 
ation, especially when contrasted with the 



166 



MINING INDUSTRY OF THE UNITED STATES. 



uncertainties and appreliensions that sur- 
round the driving of pipes. At the outset, 
the cost of four iron pipes and bands long 
enough to reach a depth of forty feet, is 
equal to that of a complete set of boring 
tools with the rods and ropes sufficient to 
bore half a dozen wells of 300 feet each in 
depth. There is often great uncertainty of 
knowing how deep the pipes will have to be 
driven, and it is impossible to foresee the 
various obstacles through which they have 
to go. When the work has gone down suc- 
cessfully 70 or even 1 00 feet, the lowest pipe 
is often suddenly broken or takes an oblique 
direction. The pipes in the ground are then 
abandoned, and a new set driven in another 
place, although in several instances pipes 
reaching CO feet in depth have been pulled 
up by a lever and axle, with chains or rods 
attached to a lewis wedge driven into the 
bottom pipe. 

' The pipes are of cast iron, generally ten 
or twelve feet long, about five inches bore, 
and the shell full an inch thick. The lower 
end of the first pipe is not sharpened, but 
is driven down blunt as it comes from the 
mould. The pipes are fastened together in 
the simplest manner possible, by wrought- 
iron bands, the ends being turned off, leav- 
ing a neck somewhat larger than the interior 
diameter of the bands, to receive them when 
expanded by heat. 

Through common earth or gravel the 
pipes are forced down by the ordinary proc- 
ess of pile-driving ; but when large stones 
are encountered, or round boulders as large 
as a man's head, there is great risk of break- 
ing or turning the jiipes. As soon, there- 
fore, as the pipes meet with any great resist- 
ance the driving is suspended and the drill 
is applied to break up the stone or to bore 
a circular hole in it, which is afterward 
reamed out as large as the interior diameter 
of the pipes. The driving is then resumed, 
and in soft shales the pipes are often forced 
on, crushing down the sides of the hole, and 
making their way through to the depth of 
12 or 1.5 inches in the rocky stratum. 

The cost of boring a well 200 feet deep 
is generally estimated at from $1000 to 
$1500. The latter sum includes the cost 
of all the tools and materials, and also of a 
small steam engine, a large tank of pine 
plank, in which the product is collected for 
the oil and water to separate, and it also al- 
lows for such accidents and delays as are 
common to these operations. 



When the oil is struck it often rises up in 
the well, sometimes flowing over the top, and 
in several instances it has burst forth in a jet 
and played like a fountain, throwing the oil 
mixed with water high up into the air. Such 
jets have rarely lasted long, and are usually 
interrupted by discharges of gas, the elasticity 
of which drives out with violence the fluids 
mixed with it, as champagne wine is pro- 
jected from a bottle on removing the cork. 
Hundreds of barrels of oil have, however, 
been wasted at some of the wells for want 
of means to collect it or stop its flow in its 
sudden first appearance. At Williams' well, 
half a mile below Titusville, about 100 bar- 
rels of oil were collected the first night the 
oil was reached, and a large quantity besides 
was lost. A similar event occurred near 
Tidioute, the oil rushing up so violently as 
t(5 knock over the laborer who held the drill 
and to pass through the derrick and over 
the trees around.. After a time the spouting 
wells become quiet and the oil settles down, 
so that it has to be raised by pumping. The 
pumps are contrived to work at any depth, 
and by men, or by horse power, or the steam 
engine. For a time at some of the wells 
the product has been water alone or water 
mixed with a little oil ; and after pumping 
several days this has given place to oil with 
a moderate proportion of water. If the 
pumping be suspended for a day water accu- 
mulates, and it ma}' be several days before 
this is drawn out and the former yield of oil 
recovered. The water is generally salt. The 
flow of oil has rarely if ever been known to 
fail entirely except by reason of some ob- 
struction in the wells, and in such cases it 
has usually retunicd after the hole has been 
bored out larger or made deeper. The sup- 
ply is not, however, altogether regular in 
any of the wells, even after the flow has set- 
tled down to a moderate production of 10 
or 15 barrels a day. The maximum yield 
of a well for a considerable time is about 50 
barrels a day, and from this the jiroduction 
ranges down to 4 barrels, below which it is 
considered insufficient to pay expenses. 

The oil and water are conducted from the 
pumps into the large receiving vats, and 
after the water has subsided the oil is bar- 
relled for the market. From the upper Oil 
Creek it is mostly wagoned to the Union 
Mills station in Erie county, on the Erie and 
Sunbury railroad ; and from Tidioute to Ir- 
vine, at the month of the Broken Straw, od 
the same road. But most of the oil along 



PETROLEUM, OR ROCK OIL. 



167 



the Alleghany river and French Creek is 
taken by steamboats down the river to I'itts- 
biirtr. New York city is at present the prin- 
cipal market, but the country refineries arc al- 
ready taking a considerable share of the oil. 

Tlie product of the diflei'ent ^yells varies 
somewhat in quality and value. At Frank- 
lin the oil for the most part is heavy, mark- 
ing as low as 33^ Baume, which corresponds 
to specific gravity 0.864. Some of the wells 
furnidi oils' of 35° or 3C°— on Oil Creek the 
range is from 38° to 46°, at Tidioute 43°. 
The French Creek oils are heavy. It is not 
unlikely that the depth of the wells may 
have some ofi'cct upon the ijualit}' of the oil, 
as from very shalli>w wells those of the light- 
er varieties must be likely to escape by evap- 
oration, leaving the heavier portions behind. 
The oils obtained at Mecca, Trumlmll coun- 
ty, Ohio, are heavy oils, being thick like 
goose grease and marking 26° or 27°, which 
is equivalent to specific gravity 0.900. At 
Grafton, Lorain county, Ohio, the oil is even 
darker and thicker than this, marking about 
25° B. 

With the exception of some light, clear 
oils of reddish color, the petroleum is usu- 
allv of a greenish hue, more or less deep and 
opaque. It has an oflensive smell which is 
not entirelv removed by the ordinary meth- 
ods of deodorizing practised in the refineries. 
The process of purification is similar to that 
of the coal oil manufiicture, as already de- 
scribed. The proportion of light oils sepa- 
rated by distillation varies with the crude 
petroleum employed. The largest product 
is about 90 per cent., and from this less 
amounts are obtained down to about 50 per 
cent. The properties and uses of these prod- 
ucts have already been considered in treat- 
ing of coal oil. 

To complete this account of the petroleum 
of the United States more particular men- 
tion should be made of the extension of the 
district from north-western Pennsylvania in- 
to New York on one side, and (_)luo on the 
other. In Chautauqua, Cattaraugus, and Al- 
legany counties, N. Y., are many places 
where the appearace of small quantities of 
oil upon the surface, and the escape of jets 
of carbnretted hydrogen, indicate the exist- 
ence of petroleum below; and the names of 
Olean and another Oil creek, a branch of the 
Genesee river, suggest the probabilitv of this 
proving another oil district. About a mile 
north-west from Cuba in Allegany county, 
is a pool about 20 feet across and 10 feet 



deep that has always been called an oil 
spring, its surface being covered with a coat- 
ing of oil from which supplies have been ob- 
tained for medicinal pur]ioses. A pipe was 
sunk into this, and on the 3d of January, 1861, 
when it had been driven down 20 or 30 feet, 
oil mixed with water suddenly gushed up 
with great force. Oil also ap])eared on the 
water drawn up from an artesian well sunk 
to the depth of 130 feet in the same vicini- 
ty. Arrangements arc now in pr(.)grcss for 
thoroughly testing the capacity of this dis- 
trict. 

In Ohio the oil-producing counties are 
Noble, Adams, Franklin, Medina, Lorain, 
Cuyahoga, Trumbull, Mahoning, and some 
others. Near Cleveland and in the valley 
of the Cuyahoga oil appears in many places, 
but it has not yet proved of much impor- 
tance. The vicinity of Mecca, Trumbull 
countv, is the most productive localitv. Op- 
erations were commenced there in February, 
1860, and in November it was stated that 
between 600 and 700 wells had been sunk, 
and 75 steam engines were in operation 
pumping oil. Two of the wells were yield- 
ing from 50 to 100 barrels a day each. This 
statement is probably much exaggerated, and 
while others report that several hundred wells 
have l)ccn sunk, a dozen or moi'e are said to be 
working profitably. These wells pass through 
the same formati(jn as those near Titusville, 
but for the most part they are shallow, rang- 
ing in depth from 30 to 100 feet, and the most 
of them not much exceeding 50 feet. About 
30 miles south-east from Mecca, at Lowell- 
ville, Mahoning county, a well was sunk 157 
feet wliieh proved very successful, yielding 
20 barrels of oil a day. This well was com- 
menced in the conglomerate and ended in 
the Chemung strata. Duck Creek, Noble 
county, was formeily noted for the oil which 
appeared with the brine of the salt wells. 

In Ritchie and Wirt counties, Virginia, near 
the Ohio river, some wells are producing oil, 
and this promises to be an important oil dis- 
trict. Canada West also contains an oil re- 
gion, extending from London toward the St. 
Clair river, from which petroleum has been 
obtained the last twelve years. On the south- 
ern coast of California petroleum is said to 
be found in considerable quantities ; and 
springs of it are described by C'aptain Stans- 
bury in the report of his expedition, in 1849, 
as occurring about 83 miles east from Salt 
Lake City, Utah, in the vicinity of sulphur 
springs and beds of bituminous coal. 



IGS 



PETEOLEUM, ore ROCK OIL. 



The fortunes made from these oil wells in 
Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, and Can- 
ada, in 18G(), 1861, and 18G2, gave ri-e to 
the wildest speculation, and the petroleum 
fever which set the whole country mad, for 
three or four years, deserves to he classtd 
with the Morns Midticaulis speculation of 
1830-7, the Washoe Mining Mania of 1857, 
or the Tulip-mania, and the South Sea Bub- 
ble of John Law, in the last century. There 
was, indeed, a more solid substratum of fait 
on which to ba e the petroleum sjieculation, 
the oil was fjund in great quantities and over 
a wide extent of territory, and there was a 
large demand for it, both at home and abroad ; 
but only a small jjroportion of the eleven 
hundred companies which were formed be- 
twi^en 18G1 and 186"). with their six hundred 
millions of dollars of nominal capital and 
actual paid-up ca|iital of, perhaps, Ida mil 
lions, either owned or leased lands or oil 
wells. Tiie crafty seliemers who had raised 
the commotion and ex<itement, preferred to 
make their money by the sale of stocis, and 
if the proposed wells were to be bond, to let 
their succi'ssors undertake their development. 
The whole community, meantime, had be- 
come infatuated ; it was difficult to find a man 
or woman in the city or country who had 
not taken at least a small venture in what 
seem da royal road to fortune, while in leai- 
ity the chance of ever getting their money 
back was not one in a hundred. Grave 
clergymen, eminent lawyers, learned doctors, 
shrewd hankers, literaiy and scientific men 
of the highest ciiaracter, and with them mer- 
chants, tradesmen, mechanics, farmers, and 
day-laborers, all purcliased shares, and, in 
many instances, invested tiie little savings 
reserved for old ag>, or disaster in these very 
attractive certificates of stock. Counting up 
their pro-ipective wealth, as prophesied in 
the glowing circulars of each new company, 
men who had never been worth a thousand 
dollars fancied themselves millionaires, and 
looked forward to the time when they should 
set up their carriage, and live in princely 
style. It was much that the bursting of this 
bubble did not involve the whole country in 
financial disaster ; but it was really on so 
sound a basis that the great losses which fol- 
lowed, in 18GG and 1867, were borne with- 
out any serious panic. 

It was worthy of notice, that during the 
height of this speculative fever, the produc- 
tion of the oil so far from increasing as would 
naturally have been expected actually dimin- I 



i hed,and it was only after the oil had touch- 
ed its lowest pr'ce that the increased and pro- 
duction has continued to do so from that 
time to the present. For several years the 
heavy internal revenue tax greatly discour- 
aged ])rocluclion, and the markets were glut- 
led with the commodity so that prices ruled 
low ; but the export demand has, for several 
years jiast, steailily increased, while the home 
markets have each year absorbed a larger 
quantity. • 

The following table shows the rapid growth 
of the export trade in petroleum ; and reck- 
oning on the assumption, which the most 
extensive d(\aler-i assure is the true one, that 
not more than forty-seven per cent, of the 
annual production is exported, exhi!)its also 
an a;iproximate estimate of the annual pro- 
duct : 

I'^xports and estimated production of pe- 
troleum from 18C2 to 1871. 



Year. 


Gallons of 
PL-li'ili;um 
exporUHd. 


Value of 
export. 


Estimated 
galli^iij 
produced. 


Eetimated 
v.iiue of 
product. 


1862 
ISO! 
1804 
lSl!5 
ISOG 


10,337,701 

28,250,721 
31,87^,972 
29,072,013 


$1,. 539,027 
6,227,839 
10,782,6-9 
16,5ia,413 
24,830,887 
24,407,042 
21,819,6^6 
31,025,446 
32,101,485 


21 ,.337 ,'33 
00,C2G,0:!2 
67,7."0,065 
61,778,033 


$3,270,402 
11,139,15,- 
22.913,214 

3;,i:-7,c>2 

52,7G5,C3c 
51,Sj6,-3t 


1867 






1868 
1869 
1870 


99,844,315 
97,924,545 
108,323,819 


212,1':9,171 

208,1189,1)53 
230,192,335 


4ii,317,CSf 
65,079,07! 
6S,21i,0oo 


IP 

ill 

CO 


90,942,343 


23,811,812 


206,002,473 


60,600,100 



Here, then, is an item of production, now 
exported to the extent of nearly 3o millions 
of dollars a year, and sold to the annual 
amount of 70 millions, which was not ten 
years ago, produced to the extent of SlOO,- 
000; yet this extraordinary development has 
only, to a very slight extent, supplanted the 
trade in other means of illumination and 
lubrication. The consumption of Olefiant 
gas has, as we have seen, greatly increased 
in the same decade ; whale oil, sperm oil, and 
lard oil, havp somewhat declined. 

It could not, of course, have been other- 
wise than that a new business of such extent 
should have prompted a great amount of 
speculation. The aggregate losses by the 
formation of petroleum companies probably 
exceeded 125 millions of dollars. For sev- 
eral years the fluctuations in the price of crude 
and refined petroleum were very great and 
very rapid ; but speculation having ceased 
it has now settled down to a scale of prices 
which pay a fair but not exorbitant profit on 



LA^^D SETTLEMENT-mXERNAL TRADE. 



CHAPTER I. 

"WESTERN SETTLEMENT AND TRADE. 

PURCHASE OF LOUISIANA POPULATIOX AND 

LAND SALES AVENUES TO THE VALLEY 

CANAL AND RAILROAD EXPENDITURES 

LAKE CITIES AND TRADE RECIPROCITY. 

The original colonies, settled as the}' were 
under different grants, circumstances, and 
powers, had many and conflicting claims to 
the then comparatively unknown land run- 
ning back to the Mississippi river, bounded 
on the north by the chain of lakes, and on 
the south by the Spanish territories of Flori- 
da and Louisiana, when there was a question 
of union into a confederacy. These various 
claims were a matter of dispute, which, from 
being serious, was settled by a mutual ces- 
sion of the lands to the federal government. 
in trust, for the common benefit of all the 
states then existing, or thereafter to be- 
come members of the Union. The federal 
government having thus become owner of 
the lands, the constitution conferred upon 
Congress the power "to dispose of and 
make all needful rules and regulations re- 
specting the territory and other property 
belonging to the United States." The ob- 
vious policy of the government, like that of 
every other thrifty owner, was at once to 
attract settlers to these lands, thereby mak- 
ing them serviceable to the whole people as 
fast as possible. To do so, the lands were 
to be sold cheap, and as few formalities as 
possible placed in the wav of the settlers. 
The domain was organized under the control 
of the Secretary of the Treasury, being ad- 
ministered under him by a commissioner of 
the land oflace. The whole domain is 
divided into districts, for each of which 
there is a surveyor general, under whom the 
territory is subdivided for survey into dis- 
tricts. For each district there is a land 
office, occupied by a register and a receiver. 
A plan is prepared of each district by the 
surveyors, with the utmost care, showing 



ranges, sections, and townships, with topo- 
graphic characteristics. Of this plan there 
are three copies; one is retained at the 
land office, one by the surveyor, and the 
third is sent to the general office at Wash- 
ington, where it serves to regulate all tran- 
sactions. The land being all surveyed into 
sections of 640 acres each, is offered for 
sale by the government at auction, at a 
minimum price of $1.25 per acre. After 
the land has been on sale two weeks, it may 
be sold in 40 acre lots, at a less price. The 
actual occupant of any land offered has the 
pre-emption to it. The buyer of the land 
pays the money to the receiver, and gets for 
it a receipt, of which the register sends a 
duplicate, with a certificate of the sale, to 
Washington. On the verification of the 
sale there, the deed of the land, called a 
"patent," is made out, and sent to the local 
land office register, who gives it to the pur- 
chaser in exchange for the receipt he holds, 
and his title is then complete. In addition 
to the attractions of low prices and pre- 
emption rights, long credits were originally 
given, to enable the settler to pay for the 
land out of its proceeds. But these speed- 
ily led to abuses, and the cash plan was 
finally adopted. There have been, however, 
large grants of land for military purposes, 
to schools and universities, to states for in- 
ternal improvements, for seats of govern- 
ment, public buildings, benefit of Indians, 
salines, swamp lands, and lastly, in aid of 
canals and railroads — the construction of 
which aided the settlement of those lands at a 
distance from large water courses, and there- 
fore from markets. Some time elapsed be- 
fore the organization of the department was 
effected, and the first land office was opened 
in 1800, at Chillicothe, Ohio. The first sales 
of land, however, took place in New York 
three years before, and in that year a tri- 
angle on the lake was sold to Pennsylvania, 
in order to give her a port on the lake. That 
port is Erie, and is famous for the building 



170 



LAND SETTLEMENT — INTERNAL TRADE. 



of Perry's fleet there in 1812, in seventy 
days fi'om the time the wood stood in the 
forest until the stars and stripes floated to 
tlie breeze of the lake from the mast-liead. 
That fleet was fatal to British supremacy on 
the lakes. Almost all the land sales took 
place in Ohio, until 1807, when offices were 
opened in Indiana and Mississippi. In 1809 
an office was opened in Alabama, and in 
1814 one in Illinois; in 1818 in Missouri, 
Louisiana, and Michigan. The sales of the 
lands proceeded with great activity in most 
of these states up to 1821, particularly 
after the embargo and war had turned 
attention from commerce and navigation to 
agriculture and manufacture. Nearly all 
the lands of the government were then in 
the great valley of the Mississippi. This is 
a vast basin, the sides of which are the 
eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains on 
the west, and the western slopes of the Al- 
leghany Mountains on the east. The chain 
of great lakes stretches across the northern 
end of the basin, and the Mississippi river 
flows through its centre to the Gulf of Mexi- 
co, receiving on its eastern side the Illinois, 
the Ohio with its affluents, and other 
large rivers which flow generally west from 
the water-shed of the AUeghanies ; and on 
its western side the Missouri and other large 
rivers whose waters descend from the east- 
ern slopes of the Rocky Mountains. The 
only outlets to this vast basin were by the 
St. Lawrence River (not then navigable, how- 
ever) north to the ocean, and the Mississippi 
river south to the gulf. Hardy pioneers 
did penetrate across the mountains, by a 
perilous seven weeks' journey, to the Ohio ; 
but once there, intercourse was but limited 
with the east. The fertile soil was, how- 
ever, attractive, and the Indian trade profit- 
able. In 1790 the whole population west 
of the mountains was 108,808 souls, or 
about 3 per cent of the whole population of 
the Union. In ISOO that population had 
increased to nearly 400,000, but the only 
outlet for their produce was down the Mis- 
sissippi through the Frencli territory of 
Louisiana. That circumstance led to great 
dissatisfaction, and being adroitly handled 
by the political adventurers of that day, 
threatened disunion, by dissolving the states 
east and west — the latter to form a new 
confederacy with the south-west and Mexico. 
The remedy was to purchase Louisiana. 
Fortunately, at the moment Napoleon had 
relinquished his projects of forming French 



colonies ; also being determined on war with 
England, he feared the seizure of Louisiana 
by that power, and determined to sell it to 
the LTnited States for ^14,984,872. This 
money, in 1803, gave him the sinews of war, 
and also the hope that the transaction would 
embroil the United States with his enemy. 
England did at a later period attempt to 
take the territories. But the troops who 
had driven the French out of Spain, em- 
barked from France for the enterprise only 
to encounter the bloodiest defeat before 
cotton bags and western rifles. Louisiana 
was tlien possessed of a certain amount of 
population and wealth, which, from being 
French, by annexation became American. A 
considerable commerce had grown up. The 
amount of trade then existing between the 
eastern and western states may be gathered 
from the official returns of exports to New 
Orleans, in the four years before it was an- 
nexed, as follows : — 

States. 1199. 1800. 1801. 1802. 
Atlantic, 3,504,092 2,035.789 1,901,998 1,224,110 
•Western, 1,124,842 1,596,640 



Total, $3,504,092 2,035,789 3,032,840 2,821,350 

The exports from the Atlantic States were 
mostly foreign merchandise destined for ex- 
port up the western rivers. The exports of 
tlie western states were the produce sent 
down for sale. Those exports were the 
productions of hardy adventurers, whom 
circumstances liad induced to seek their for- 
tunes in the west. As long as the commerce 
of the country was active, and the sales of 
the farm products of the Atlantic states 
profitable, there was less inducement to mi- 
grate west than there was after the embargo 
had wrought a change in that respect, and 
the means of communication via New Or- 
leans had improved. When tliat port be- 
came an American city, and the mighty 
river to its mouth an American stream, a 
new attraction was added to the fair lands 
of the valley, and in 1810 its population 
had risen to 878,315. The impulse thus 
given to western settlement was strength- 
ened by the eft'ects of war upon the Atlantic 
states. The interruption of commerce and 
stagnation of exports threw out of employ- 
ment large numbers, who now turned an 
inquiring gaze beyond the mountains. The 
capital of the east thrown out of commercial 
employment by the same circumstances, 
flowed eagerly into banking, in the hope of 




' ' '' i ii'''lllil 



lilli' 



iliilM^^^^^ 






M 









jiiii,'"'' •'"■'i>''y MM 



-'«" 



I 



'■il' 



WESTERN SETTLEMENT AND TRADE. 



IVI 



deriving large profits from the growing re- 
sources of the west; although inevitable 
disaster followed the erroneous principles 
on which that banking was conducted, the 
capital, so lost to stockholders, really pro- 
moted agriculture. Instead of confining 
themselves to advances on produce shipped, 
the institutions loaned money to make im- 
provements and build houses that the farm 
profits could not pay for. The result was 
ruin to those accepting such advances, and 
insolvency to the banks making them. 
From 1810 to 1820 six states grew into the 
Union, while in the fifteen years that fol- 
lowed 1821 none were admitted. 

This is an instructive fact, and it indicates 
that western land speculation, so much over- 
done at those periods, was a long time 
in recovering itself The process of forming 
new states is mostly a speculative one. The 
shrewdest operators get possession of the 
leading " sites " of future cities, and by 
stimulating and guiding the tide of migra- 
tion, become wealthy in the rise of prices that 
tlie tide creates around them. As the wealth- 
iest names of the eastern cities wera men 
eminent in commercial enterprise, so were 
those of the western cities the earliest and 
most extensive land-holders. The political 
influence which brings the government pat- 
ronage upon the theatre of such locations, 
is a part of the machinery to guide the pop- 
ular movement. When in seasons of specu- 
lation, these operators become possessed of 
considerable tracts, a period of steady and 
healthy migration is required to distribute 
possession among settlers and clear the way 
for a new excitement. Yearly the trade grows 
by reason of the increasing surplus that the 
settlers throw off" for market, and which 
being sold increases their ability to buy 
merchandise in return. 

There are no data by which to measure the 
growth of trade in those western states after 
the admission of Louisiana, up to within 
twenty 3'ears, since the accounts were kept 
only for the foreign trade, and when Louisi- 
ana became a state, reports were no longer 
made. The sales of lands, and population 
of the new states, progressed as follows, how- 
ever : — 

1790 to 1800 1800 to 1810 
Piipulation, increase, 276,769 492,678 

Sales ofland, acres, 1,536,152 3,008,982 

1810 to 1820 Total 1820 

Population, increase, 1,201, 24,8 2,079.563 

Sales of land, acres, 8,499,673 13,044,807 



So rapid had been the settlement from 
1810 to 1820. The agricultural productions 
of that region, as a matter of course, fol- 
lowed this rapid settlement of lands, and the 
exchange of those productions created a 
large trade of which there is little record. 
The mines and manufactures sprung up in 
the several towns, following the wants of the 
people. ' 

The cession of Louisiana to the TJnited 
States had produced a dispute in relation to 
its boundaries between this country and 
Spain, which then owned Florida. This dis- 
pute became very warm in 1819, when it was 
settled through the mediation of the French 
minister, by a cession of east and west Flor- 
ida by Spain to the United States, in con- 
sideration of being released from claims for 
spoliation of American propertv to the extent 
of s4,9S5,599, which the United States gov- 
ernment undertook to pay its own citizens. 
The coast line of the United States thus 
became complete. There were now large 
interests west of the mountains, a population 
of over 2,000.000 souls, occupying fertile 
land, capable of any development, and great 
numbers were interested in the rapid appre- 
ciation of those lands by settlement. The 
want of communication was a great obstacle. 
It required seven weeks to reach the newly 
settled cities of the west; and when during 
the war it was necessary to send a gun from 
New York city to Buffalo for defense, it cost 
six weeks of time and §1,000 in money to 
do it. There could be little trade under 
such circumstances, and the question was 
to open communication. A canal from the 
lakes to tide water on the Hudson was 
commenced in 1817, and completed in 1825. 
This Erie canal cost ^7,143,789, and soon 
paid for itself, being the most profitable, as it 
was the greatest of modern improvements. 
It opened the door for the great western val- 
ley to tide water, and by doing so wrought an 
immense change in the condition and pros- 
pects of all that region. In October, 1823, 
New York had also completed the Cham- 
plain canal, running 63 miles, from Albany 
to Lake Champlain, at a cost of §1,179,871. 
I'ennsylvania, in 1825, passed an act for the 
connection of Pittsburg, on the Ohio, with 
Philadelphia, a distance of 394 miles. This 
line was not completed until 1834. In 1828, 
a company was chartered to connect the 
Ohio with Georgetown, on the Potomac, by 
the Chesapeake and Ohio canal. These 
works gave three outlets from the great basin 



172 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



to tide water. While yet they were in pro- 
cess of construction, however, a new power 
was being developed to supersede them for 
trade and lio-ht freitrhts. In 1828, Massa- 
chusetts had three miles of railroad ; from 
that nest-effg, capital has since hatched 28,270 
miles, which cover the country like a net- 
work. The opening of the Erie canal was 
attended with great results, since it placed 
the produce of western lands cheaply in com- 
petition with that of the valley of the Hud- 
son, and of the less productive states of the 
Atlantic c<5ast. Commerce and manufactures 
increased, for the reason that agriculture paid 
less. The supply of labor changed direction, 
and the increasing numbers in manufacturing 
employments drew their subsistence from the 
west. The natural water courses that dis- 
charged themselves into the lakes were lined 
with settlers, and soon Ohio connected the 
lakes with the Ohio river, by a canal from 
Cleveland to Cincinnati, and also to Ports- 
mouth. Indiana projected a canal from 
Toledo, on the lakes, to the Ohio river, cut- 
ting the state nearly longitudinally; and 
Illinois projected one from Chicago to the 
navigable waters of the Illinois river, thus 
connecting the lakes with the Mississippi 
river, nearly opposite the old French town 
of St. Louis — across the state. These works 
were not completed, some of them, until ten 
or fifteen years alter tliey were undertaken. 
Tliat of Ohio, however, gave a new impulse 
to trade, not only by Cleveland, on the lakes, 
but by wa}' of Cincinnati, down tlie river to 
New Orleans. These circumstances gave a 
new impulse to the sales of land and the 
settlement of the west. The expenditure of 
money for the construction of canals, and by 
tiie iederal government for the construction 
of the great national road running west from 
the seat of government to the Mississippi, 
inaugurated the speculative movement in 
tliat direction. The bank fever then raged 
once more in support of the land move- 
ment, as it had done in the six years end- 
ing with 1820, and with the same results. 
$200,000,000 of money went from cast to 
west, feeding the Hame, until all real capital 
was nearly consumed, and the speculation 
ran wild until it burst in 18.37. At that 
time a large quantity of land had passed, 
under the credit sales of the federal govern- 
ment, into the liands of private speculators, 
and the western fever lay dormant up to the 
revival that it experienced in 1846-7, by 
reason of the famine abroad, and the growing 



strength of the migration. Attention was 
then again turned to the lands, and the rail- 
road expenditure began to exert the same 
influence that canal and bank expenditure 
had exercised in 1836, and the movement 
was progressive until the revulsion of 1857. 

The natural water courses of the country 
had been followed by early migrations, and 
the settlement of the land bordering them 
had been stimulated by the bank paper 
speculation of 1810 to 1820. Following the 
excitement came the construction of the 
artificial means of navigation, involving an 
expenditure of some $50,000,000 for canals 
through new lands opened up by their opera- 
tion ; and these enterprises were again at- 
tended with a great bank expansion, that, 
although ending disastrously, nevertheless 
had the eft'ect of drawing capital from Eng- 
land and the wealthier Atlantic states to 
spread it upon the fertile lands of the west. 
The subsidence of that speculation left the 
west in comparative quiet, although of gene- 
ral progress, for some years, during which a 
new and more powerful element of internal 
development was coming into action. This 
was the railroad system. 

The first railroad of the country was three 
miles, built in Quincy, Massachusetts, and in 
operation in 1828, about the time the suc- 
cess of the Manchester railroad in England 
astonished the world with the new phenom- 
ena of locomotion. The example was not 
slow of imitation in this country; and the 
Boston and Providence railroad, uniting those 
cities by forty miles of rail, to connect with 
the steamboats to New York, was soon in 
operation. Its success caused other works to 
be undertaken in New England, and when 
the Western road was projected, to con- 
nect Albany with Boston, it gave the city a 
direct connection with the Hudson river and 
the Erie canal. New York projected the Har- 
lem railroad ; and from Albany several roads 
extended west, connecting city after city, 
until the united lengths of 380 miles made a 
continuous route to Buftalo — afterward, in 
1850, consolidated in the New York- Central 
railroad. Another road — the Erie — to con- 
nect New York with Lake Erie at Dunkirk 
(459 miles), through the lower tier of coun- 
ties, was commenced in 1842 and completed 
in 1853. Baltimore projected the connection 
with Wheeling, on the Ohio, 380 miles, by 
rail, and Philadelphia connected Pittsburg, on 
the Ohio, 329 miles, by a line of works which 
became subsequently a continuous railway. 




>AU 5UL1.S 



WESTERN SETTLEMENT AND THADE. 



173 



The New York railroads were not allowed 
by law to carry freiifht until 1850, except ou 
pavinent of the canal tolls. These fnur routes 
opened the western valley by rail to tide 
water. Tlie Canada roads, connecting De- 
troit and Buffalo, and Detroit and Portland, 
make five routes, with distances as follows : — 

N. York to Chicago, via Erie, Lake Shore, and 

Mich. Southern, ----- 957 

N. York to Cliieago, via Central, Canada, and 

Mich. Ceutral, 957 

Phihidelphia to Chicago, via Pittsburg and 

Fort Wayne, - 823 

Baltinjore to Chicago, ma Ohio Central, - 9-12 
Portland to " " CanadaandMicIiigan 

Central, 1,133 

There had been, meanwhile, many western 
roads built in important localities, which had 
much favored the export of food in answer 
to the foreign demand growing out of the 
famine of 1846-7. In the year 1850, the 
federal government made a grant of land of 
about 2,500,000 acres to the state of Illinois, 
in aid of the construction of the Central 
railroad, which was to connect Galena, on 
the Mississippi, and Chicago, on the lake, 
with Cairo, at the junction of the Ohio and 
Mississippi rivers. The two roads leaving 
respectively Galena and Chicago, run south, 
converging until they meet at a point 50 
miles from Cairo, and thence proceed to- 
gether. The state not being able to do ^his 
herself, made over the lands to a company, 
on condition that they should construct the 
road. This was commenced in 1852, and 
finished in 1857, at a cost of 835,000,000. 
The tract given by the government was in 
size equal to the whole state of Connecticut, 
and was a part of 11,000,000 acres that had 
been over fifteen vcars in the market without 
finding buyers. The fact that tlie railroad was 
to run through them, and spend $25, 000,000, 
and employ 10,000 men in the building of 
the road, made the lands attractive, and ex- 
cited .speculation. At about the same time 
the state of Michigan sold the Michigan Cen- 
tral road and the Southern Michigan road to 
two companies, on the condition of their 
finishing them, which was done in 1852, 
establishing a connection between Detroit 
and Chicago. About the same time the Gale- 
na and Chicago railroad was commenced and 
finished in 1850, making a direct communi- 
cation from the river at Galena to Chicago, 
prolonged by tlie Michigan roads to Detroit, 
and thence by the Lake Shore to New York, 
by the Erie or the Central railroads, or via 



the Canada route to Portland or to Boston. 
Subsequent connections have been made with 
the Pennsylvania and the Baltimore roads ; 
and the western connections of Chicago and 
Milwaukee liave been pushed under a vast ex- 
penditure of money. The inauguration of 
land grants by government, in the case of 
the Illinois Central, has been followed by 
grants to other states for the same object, 
until all the grants amount to 25,403,993 
acres. These grants have rapidly developed 
southern connections, until the route is now 
complete between Chicago and New Orleans, 
shortening the river route by over 400 miles. 
While these " trunk lines" were in process 
of construction, cross roads were multiplied 
to an immense extent, and the connections 
of them form a continuous route from Bangor, 
Maine, to New Orleans, 1,996 miles. This 
vast chain of railways is composed of eigh- 
teen independent roads, costing in the aggre- 
gate, for 2,394 miles of road',^ $92,784^084, 
or nearly one-tu-ent3'-fourth of the whole 
railway system of the United States. 

The progress of the construction by miles 
in each locality lias been as follows, in 
periods of ten years : — 

East'ni. Middle. Soalh'rn. West'ni. Total Milet. Cnst. 

1828.... 3 S 221,101 

183(1 ... 3 S3 6 6 4.1 8,.Mn,10n 

1840... 444 1,436 461 28 2,.3r.9 9S.17O,001 

1850.... 2,391) 2,925 1,415 1,041 7,777 291,482,101 

1860....3,.S24 8,176 6,552 10,7(8 58,270 $1,009,172,000 

.870.... 4,274 10,791 11,132 22,(J64 43 661 2,212,412,719 

A vast sum of money, amounting in all to 
$1,203,240,719, has been expended in the last 
ten years in the construction of 2i),59 1 miles of 
roa(1, of wliich ratlur more than one-half has 
been built at the west. Tht've are, in addi- 
tion to these roads, some 28,000 miles of 
road incomplete. A considerable amount 
of this money was drawn from abroad. The 
iron was got in exchange for bonds, which 
have not in all cases been paid ; but if the 
bonds were poor, the iron has not been of 
good quality. The quantity of railroad iron 
imported in ten years, to 1850, was 242,449 
tons, at a cost of $9,(503,587. In the twenty 
years ending with 1869, the quantity im- 
ported was 3,519.896 tons, at a cost of 
$281,591,680. This number of tons suffices 
for about 30,000 miles of road, at 70 lbs. to the 
yard. The money expended upon the roads 
in the employment of men and in the manu- 
facture of superstructure, rolling stock, etc., 
of itself caused an immense activity and de- 
mand for produce, which, as a matter of 
course, became scarce and high upon the 
theatre of such expenditure. The manufac- 



174 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



ture of superstructure, cars, locomotives, sta- 
tions, etc., were the means of employing 
great numbers of men. The railroad iron, 
of wliich the manufacture i-equires the in- 
vestment of much capital, was alone import- 
ed to any great extent. The remaining por- 
tions of the railroads were manufactured at 
home. The first locomotives in the United 
States were imported from England in the 
fall of 1829 or spring of 1830. The first 
Stephenson locomotive ever imported was 
the "Piobert Fulton," in 1831, for the Mo- 
hawk and Hudson railroad. The first loco- 
motive built in this country was constructed 
at the West I'oint foundry in 1830, for the 
South Carolina railroad. Since then the im- 
provement and manufacture of railroads has 
been so successful as to admit of the export 
of manj' American machines. As the roads 
were completed, and the hands, numbering 
at least 200,000 men so employed, were dis- 
charged, they naturally turned their atten- 
tion to the agriculture of the neighborhood 
where they had been employed, and produc- 
tion thus succeeded to consumption. The 
effect of the railroad expenditure upon the 
grain crops is to some extent indicated in 
the following table of miles of roads in oper- 
ation in the western states at the periods 
named, and the population and corn product 
of those states : — 

IWO. Miles r>„,i.ii™ Bushels 

of u™d. PoPilo'lo"- „f Corn. 

Ohio 299 1,980,329 59,078,695 

Indiana 86 982,405 52,964,S63 

IlUnoi-s 22 851,470 57,646,984 

Iowa 192,214 8,656,799 

Michigan 344 397,654 5,641,420 

WisconsiQ 305,391 1,988,379 

Missouri 682,044 36,214,537 

751 5,391,507 222,191,177 
1870. 

Ohio 3,724 2,175,468 65,250 005 

Indiana 2,977 1,668,169 7.'j,0i)n,iini) 

Illinois 4,708 2,567,0,36 121,500,(1(1(1 

Iowa 2,141 1,181,359 78,, 5(1(1, (loii 

MichiKan . 1,200 1184,653 14,1(10 Odn 

V\'isconsiu 1,491 1,055,501 9,500,000 

Missouri 1,827 1,725,658 80,500,0(10 

Total 18,068 12,051,844 445,350,005 

Incruase 17,317 6,660,337 223,158,828 

The corn crops had more than doubled, and 
the wheat crop in the same states had risen 
from 43,«40,C37 to 143,.'i()0,00() Imshels in 
] s7(l — an increaseof 100,000,000 ]ierannum, 
worth as many dollars ; and estimating the 
corn at tlu; same aggregate, there had been 
a sum of $320,000,000 per annum, or a third 



the cost of the railroads built, extracted each 
year from the soil through their influence. 
We may now observe what had been the 
actual sales of the public lands by the govern- 
ment in the forty years ending with 1860, 
to June 30th, when the fiscal year ends, 
divided into periods of ten years each ; the 
first, being that of recovery from the specu- 
lation that attended the close of the war; 
the second, embracing the period of bank 
and canal building excitement ; the third, 
that of recovery from that excitement ; and 
the fourth, that of the last great railroad 
building excitement. The quantity sold 
during the fifty years was, it appears, 160,- 
588,(105 acres, besides about :;86,000,000 
acres granted to agricultural colleges, rail- 
roads, homesteads, military service, &c. 

ANNU.VL SALES OP LAND BT TOE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT. 



1S21, 
1-22, 

1823, 
1821, 
1825, 
182 i, 
1S27, 
1R28, 
ISL'O, 
1830, 



Acres. 
822,185 
763,811 
63'<,749 
723,033 
871, HI 9 
839,263 
9(.lj,y37 
94ii,ia0 
1,236,445 
1,8S0,U19 



1831, 
lS:e, 
1833, 
1834, 
1835, 
1S3G, 
1837, 
1839, 
1839, 
1840, 



2,804,745 
2,411,9.^2 
3,8.-6,227 
4,(158,218 
12,584,478 
20,074,870 
5,001,103 
3,414,907 
4,97(i,382 
2,23(3,889 



1841, 
1842, 
1843, 
1844, 
1845, 
1846, 
' 1847, 
1848, 
1849, 
1850, 



Acres. 
1,164,796 
1,129,217 
l,(;0;j,264 
1,764,763 
1,843,527 
2,2f:3,7.30 
2,521,305 
1,SS7,5J3 
l,3L9,9ft2 

769,364 



Total 


9,62 


7,710 


62,6i«,771 


16,269,421 


Pop . 


.2,233,881) 


3,707,299 


10,454,245 


1851, 




1,846,847 


1861,1 
1862, 




1,8,52, 




1.5- 3,071 




18,53, 




1.0S3,495 


1863, ■ 


9,109,075 


IS.i4, 




7,035,735 


1864, 




18.55, 




15,7:9,5"4 


18^5, 




18,56, 




9,227,878 


1766, 


4,6:;9,313 


18,57, 




4,142,744 


1S67, 


7,041,114 


1^*58, 




3,804,908 


18(53, 


6,(i5:i,743 


1859, 




3,9')1,680 


1869, 


7,6C.ii,ir.2 


186 J, 




4,o00,0j0 


1870, 


8,095,413 



Total 62,''85,782 

rop'n 15,081,894 



43,19'i,810 
17,217,010 



The total sales of land, from the opening 
of the land offices to 187l>, including grants 
under the homestead laws, were 176,488,736 
acres. There Jiave been issued land warrants 
to soldiers, which iiave taken up large jior- 
tions of the land. These warrants are for 1 60 
acres, 120 acres, 80 acres, and 40 acres, and 
have been sold in the markets at $1 per acre 
for the smaller lots, and about 80 cts. the 
larger wairants, by which means the lands 
come less to the buyer. In addition to (he 
lands sold, the government has donated 6',),- 
06(5,802 acres to schools ; 6,851,989 acres to 
agricultural coUcges ; 44,971 to deaf and 
dumb asylums ; 12,403,054 to internal im- 
provements; 2,210,184 to individuals ; 146,- 
860 to seats of government; 61,076.922 to 
military services; 514,585 salines to states; 






C 

b-- 

i 



u-; 



l4 



b-i 



b-i 




WESTERN SETTLEMENT AND TRADE. 



115 



1,1,980.700 Iiiflhin reserves; 17.64.5,244 pri- 
vate claims; 47.87.5,240 swamp lands, granted 
to states; 27,4.5.3,522 to railroads, etc. ; re- 
served for individuals, companies, and corpor- 
ations, 8,955,3',)4 acres; and there remain 
unsold lands on hand, the trifle of 1,396,- 
2S6,1G4 acres. 

The population of the land states had in- 
creased, it appears, from 2,233,881 > in 1830, 
to 17,217,610 in 1870, during which period 
of forty j'ears, 174,451,784 acres of land 
were sold by the Government. These 
land sales and population are the ground 
work of the national trade, which grows with 
the surplus produced by the land settlers. 
Those people at first make few purchases of 
goods, but increase them as their surplus 
produce sells and enables them to do so. 

The people who seek new Lands on which 
to rear their future homes and fortunes, are, 
for the most part, not possessed of much 
capital, and under ordinary circumstances 
much is required for a family to perform a 
distant journey, locate and prepare land and 
wait until the crops are grown. Neverthe- 
less, pioneers have ceaselessly pushed for- 
ward into tl\c wililerness and battled with 
nature in the shape of forests, animals and 
savages, until twenty new states and millions 
of wealth have been added to the Union. 
The great instrument of this progress, has, 
under Providence, and in the hands of skil- 
ful and determined men, been Indian corn. 
That grain has been the poor man's capital, 
enabling him to conquer the wilderness. It 
needed on his locating his future homo but 
to drop the seed in the fertile soil, and 
while he busied himself with his new dwel- 
ling, a sure crop grew up, which in a few 
months became food for his family and his 
animals. The husks furnish his bed and 
the cobs his fuel. lie is thus by the gift of 
nature furnished with capital for the coming 
year, until his other crops and young ani- 
mals have grown. Indian corn has thus 
given the pioneer a hold upon the land and 
made his footing fiiTa where otherwise he 
might have been compelled to succumb to 
hardships. With ever}' such remove on to new 
land the circle of trade has increased. A 
few months only suffice for the settler to 
furnish a surplus of production in return for 
comforts th.'it he desires. For this reason 
chiefly corn figures so largely in the agricul- 
ture of the west. The prolific soil throws 
out quantities far beyond the wants of the 
planter, and in a region where all are plantr 



ers, the supply becomes superabundant and 
must find distant markets only at rates so 
low as to leave little to the grower. Two 
local demands are created for it. The most 
important of them is to feed hogs, and pork 
becomes a leading staple export ; the other 
is for distillation, and whiskey is largely 
exported. The quantity of corn required 
to make a certain quantity of pork becomes 
accurately known, and the price of meat 
rises and falls with that of the grain, as does 
whiskey also. Thus out of the great staple 
grain Indian-corn come directly the three 
great articles of export, corn, pork and its 
manufacture, and whiskey. Lumber in most 
new countries is also an important export, 
As the settlements progress, beef, wool, 
wheat and other grains, soon follow, and 
trade increases. While Indian corn has been 
largely the instrument of settlement at the 
West, the nature of the country and the 
fertility of machine inventions have been no 
less necessary in securing a surplus for sale. 
If the corn grows readily it could not under 
the old system be so readily harvested in a 
region where land belonged to every man, 
and every man's labor could be applied only to 
his own service. At the same time no 
man's labor more than suffices for the wants 
of his own family. Here machinery steps 
in, and favored by the level nature of the 
soil operates to a charm. A man who could 
with the scythe cut from one to one and a half 
acres of grass per day, may ride round a 
field and cut ten acres in a day without 
fatigue. Instead of a gang to rake and turn 
and cock, his horse and himself may with a 
patent rake perform all that labor and more 
effectually when driven by a shower of rain, 
than any gang. His grain is cut by the 
same means and light labor as his grass. It 
is threshed out by a similar process ; his 
corn is husked and shelled by machines ; 
and when drawn to the railroad depots it is 
elevated into vast receptacles to be trans- 
ported rapidly and at small cost to the best 
market. All these machine aids enable 
the man whose own labor would scarcely 
supply the deipands of his family to turn 
out a vast surplus. This surplus seeks the 
river and lake cities by rail, canal, and steam, 
to be transported to the Atlantic markets 
for consumption or export, or may now leave 
Chicago and Milwaukee on the lakes, or St. 
Louis and Cincinnati on the rivers for Liver- 
pool direct without breaking bulk. The 
table of land sales above gives a very good 



WESTERN SETTLEMENT AND TRADE. 



177 



Cleveland ; tliL-re are r.ow 49 steamers and 
356 sail vessels, with an aggregate tonnage of 
54,474 tons owneil there. The nuiltiplica- 
tiou of railroads has, however, added of late 
more to the city business than either canals 
or tonnage. There are twelve roads running 
into Cleveland, of an aggregate length of 
1,623 miles, and their annual receipts are 
more than 25 million dollars. These cross- 
ing Oiiio in ever}' direction, connect the city 
with Toledo, Columbus, Pittsburg, and Is'ew 
York. With these advantages, and an active 
commerce with Canada, a large foreign trade 
sprung up. In 1S70 tlie imports and expoits 
were as follows : 

Vessels. Tons. Coastwise. Foreien. Total. 

Exports... 1,060 302,170 $76,187,390 SS9n,203 S"6,782,593 
Imports. . . 940 2SS,110 108,219,361 6U9,98-1 108,819,845 

The trade between Cleveland and Lake 
Superior has also become important witliin 
fifteen years, in which time it has risen to 
more than $20,0()(),(l()0, mostly in iron and 
copper ore. In 1856-1S61, Cleveland had, in 
common with several of the other hike ports, 
a growing and flourishing direct trade with 
Europe through the AVelland canal. Ten 
vessels, of 300 or 400 tons, ran regularly for 
some time between Cleveland and Liver|iool. 
Owing to the war and tiie unprolitiibleness 
of this trade, it has now very much declined, 
but the city has become largely interested 
manufactures, having over $16,01)0,000 cap- 
ital invested in them, with an annual product 
of nearly 550,000,000. The coal trade of 
Cleveland has become large for the supply 
of the steamers and factories on and around 
the lakes; the supply is about Tni'.nOO tons 
per annum. Population in 1870, 9M,918. 

DETRjy.x,^— This is the oldest of the west- 
ern cities having been early occupied by 
the French, but its progress, like tiie others, 
was slow until the opening of the Erie canal. 
In 137 years, up to 1820, the population 
had risen only to 1,442 souls. The greatest 
impulse has been given to Detroit by 
the formation, in the last ten years, of 
the railroad system, which connects it with 
the interior country. The G:eat Western 
Railway of Canada, coming 299 miles, has 
its terminus virtualh' in Detioit. From De- 
troit west run the Michijian Central road, 
228 miles, to Chicago, and connecting with 
the whole western net-work of rails ; the 
Detroit and Milwaukee railroad, crossing the 
Peninsula, 185 miles, to Grand Haven; 
the Michigan Southern road running also to 
11* 



Chicago, a road to Lansing, and other smaller 
road-i, in all extending about 1,120 miles. 
Population in 1870, 79,588. 

Chicago is the most remarkable of the 
western cities for its growth. Its location 
was good, at the southern extremity of the 
lake, but though it had a tine harbor sufficient 
for any lake trade, it could not thrive until 
tbe back country supplied it with produce to 
sell, and required of it merchandise in ex- 
change. . Though occupied as a garrison in 
1812, and a trading port in 1823, it had le.'=s 
than fifty inhabitants till 1832. , The Illinois 
and Michigan canal, connecting the lake with 
the navigable waters of the Illinois, was com- 
menced in 1836, 100 miles in length. In aid 
of this work tho federal government donated 
alternate six mile sections of the public lands. 
The state had also projected a large system 
of railroad improvements on a scale far be- 
yond its means, and it failed in 1840. Sub- 
.sequently the means was raised to complete 
the canid, which was effecled in 1850. The 
yearly arrivals and clearances of vessels in 
the port are little more than six million tons. 
In 1870, there were 15 trunk and about 50 
other railroads with an aggregate mileage of 
over 9,000 miles radiating from Chicago as 
their common centre. The expenditure of 
about $450,000,000 in the construction cf 
these roads, and the great development of 
the country through which they pass has 
made the growth of Chicago r.apid beyond 
all precedent. The vast grain, live, stock, lum- 
ber and mining producis poured into it have 
made it a great commercial city, even bevond 
what its population would indicate. Over 
the 9,000 miles of railroad, most of it trav- 
ersing the finest grain country in the world, 
the cereals have come in such quantities as 
to make Chicago the first primary grain port 
in the world, slii]ipiiig as it does about 60 
million bushels of grain per annum, import- 
ing and exporting to the amount of S250,- 
0(M),000. Chicago is only six or eight feet 
above the level of the lake, but the harbor 
has a depth of thirteen feet of water, and will 
always be ample for the commerce of the 
lakes. The number of vessels arriving here 
in 1870 w-as 12,739. The new Canadian 
rules in relation to navigation enable ChicaM 
vessels to clear direct for Europe, and there 
are a number in the trade by which produi e 
and goods are shipped direct to Europe. 
The total value of pro luce exported in 
1870 was §5,034,336. Inasmuch as bread- 
stuffs are the principal product of the 



178 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



the commerce of the place, the following ta- 
ble will best illustrate as well the development 
of agriculture as the chief element of trade : 

SHIPMENTS OF FLOUR (REDUCED TO WHEAT) AND GRAIN FROM 
CHICAGO FOR THIRTV-THREE YEARS. 



1833, 

1839, 
1840, 
1841, 
1842, 
1843, 
1844, 
1845, 
1846, 
1S47, 
1848, 



Bushels. 

78 

3,678 

10,1100 

40,000 

58S,9'.i7 

681* ,907 

923,491 

l,0-i4,B20 

1,599,819 

2,243,201 

3,001,740 



18)9, 
18.50, 
l»ol, 
1852, 
1853, 
1854, 
1855, 
1856, 
1857, 
1858, 
1859, 



Bu.shol.'i. 
2,700,111 
1,830,930 
4,646,291 
5,8;3,141 
6,412,181 
12,03:1,320 
16,6.33,700 
21,5^3,221 
18,0.3.1,078 
20,035,106 
10,753,795 



1860, 
1861, 
1S62, 
1863, 
1804, 
1865, 
1866, 
1867, 
1868, 
1869, 
1370, 



liushpls. 
31,1118,7.59 
50,481,862 
56,477,110 
64,287,345 
46,718,543 
62,268,181 
66,486,3:3 
65,137,909 
63,6.38,358 
56,7.59,516 
64,745,903 



We may recapitulate these lake cities in 
the following table, showing the date of set- 
tlement, of incorporation, and population at 
that date, with the population and valuation 
in 1850 and 1860 : — 



The following are the shipments of pork, 
provision, and cut meats, lard, beef, wool, 
and lumber, for ten years — 1861-1S70 : 



Tear. 

I8G1, 
186j, 
)8»!, 
1«H, 
lUfio, 

ise;, 

]«fi8, 
isi;;), 
1S70, 



19:1,'.) -O 

44II,1.M 

2fH,7:14 
^57,4711 
17li.«l 
141..'1-'1 



ProvlsionB and 
Cut M.>nle. 

(in.748 3.S8 
7l,'.i44.0tU 
■)5.»KI,«15 
«),(l3j.:ti2 
5o,0i(>,609 
7.3,011 ,S« 
8a,3i'i,.V>2 
H.'i,l(l*i,10l 
8(i,707.4ll6 
112,4.33,108 



Laril. 
Poundj. 



UurrclS. 



lfi.400,».'2 BO.I.M 
.14..'JI.'..12.1 isi.ivn 



Wool. 
Pouodj. 



1.3Gll,f.l7 
S.llll.VJl 



2s,(,sr 4n; 
2(',.7.-.s.;aw 

27,211,225 
23,627.K21 
17,278,,V.'0 
43,292,249 



1(1 



_..7(l: U',;ii,' 

S4,liJ2 11.-"'. 

7.5,424 l:;.i",,i 

48. 1124 ."*.-." ■ 

(J5,3»>9 lo,ti2tj,.* 



Ifi9,.379,445 

l.'^!l.277,079 

'i,r"i.3:)0 



Settled. 

Buffalo 1801 

OsweRO 1820 

t:ievelRnd...l799 

Detn.it 1681 

i^liicaso.. . . 1823 
Mihvauliee,,lS30 



Incorporated. Population. 



1833 
1848 
1836 
1S02 
1835 
1840 



8,653 
10,305 

4,000 
700 
800 

9.C55 



Total M.113 



Popul.ation 

in 1860. 

Buffalo... 49,764 

Oswego ... 12,206 

Develand.. 17,ii34 

Pctroit 21 067 

CliieaBo , . . 29.963 
Milwaukee 81,077 



Total 

Valuation. 

$18,427,000 
9,107,202 
12.102,101 
10,741,657 
81,205.0110 
18,421,000 



Population Total 

in 1860. Valuation. 

117.715 $112,920,150 

20,910 19,425,800 

93,918 92,325,000 

79,588 79,809,951 

298,983 358,783,516 

71,499 57,805,772 



Milwaukee is one of the chief cities of 
the western shore of Lake Michigan. It 
was settled in 1834, and up to 1840 could 
boast of but 1,700 inhabitiints. The popu- 
lation ha<l grown to nearly 20,000 in 1850, 
to 30,000 "ill 1853, and to 71,499 in 1870. 
The growth has been most rapid under the 
settlement of the country west of it, by 
means of the large expenditures there made 
in the last fourteen years for railroads. These 
in the state of Wisconsin, have an aggregate 
length of 2,779 miles, and have been con- 
stritcted mostly in the last fifteen years at an 
expense of $60,358,723. The expentliture 
of this large sum of money, in addition to 
that biid oiU, by speculators and emigrants, 
imparted an impulse to the prosperity of the 
city which is retlected in its population and 
valuation. The circle of fertile country 
poured into the city products which were 
exported from it to the value of $35,890,288 
in 1870, and in return $59,180,000 worth 
of goods was imported. The manufactures 
of the city were also valued at $23,100,000. 
The quantity of grain shipped from Milwau- 
kee in 1870 was 28,G45,()00 bushels, and 
from other lake ports of Wi.-iconsin 1,5C)_I,881 
bushels. The grain movement, which is the 
basis of the city's commerce, indicates the 
ratio of its growth, and is as follows : — 

,. . > n..cKi>lc Rii=hcl3. BuflhclB. 

,«! "vH« IW. r5U,6n 1857. » ?2?,..« 1SB2, IK.l.O.n,., 
ml ;t7G;£8 \^. V20103 185», 6,.3a,0M 1870, 2:1,100,000 



Tot.ll... 16 1, 100 $100,00.3,960 «S2.613 712,370,133 

Thus these prominent cities have grown 
up, so to speak, in 35 years, as points where 
farm produce is received from the country 
for sale and where goods are furnished in 
exehann-e. The whole value of the lake 
trade has been estimated at $1200,000,000 
per annum, and the transaction of this busi- 
ness has, it appears, created six cities, with 
a population of G82.('.10 and a taxable valu- 
ation of $712,330,198. The manufactures 
have gradually increased in those cities in 
order to produce a local supply instead of 
importing, and new inventions in sewing 
and other machines have promoted that 
change, as machinery aided the development 
of surplus produce." The aggregate trade 
poured upon the lakes from all these sources 
has been increasingly large. The aggregate 
quantities of grain shipped from the grain 
regions are seen in the following table, which 
shows the routes taken to market : — 



1857. 

Tin Lake Ontario . ia,044..354 

n./ Suspension Bridge . , 1,049,108 

Via Lake Erie 22,031.164 

From Ohio lliver eastward 4,3.52,036 



1858. 
11.872,995 

1,900,000 
S0.4.'f2,121 

6,242,441 



1859. 
14,874,961 

837,778 

S4,73;I,6S2 

■1,446.281 



Flour. 

barrels. 
ISSG, 3,879,189 
1857, 3,412,904 
18.58, 4,602,780 



Wheat. 

bushels. 
19,956.025 
17,362,161 
20.794,515 



Grand total 45,476,662 49,447,557 44,3-9,602 

The totals were composed of these follow- 
ing grains : — 

Corn. Oth.Orain. Total in 

busheis. busliels. bushels. 

14 2'i2 6.32 4,634,909 68.269,671 

8779.832 2,270,149 4.5.476.662 

10,558,627 5,080,615 49,447,567 

4 423,096 4,310,269 44,389,603 

1,423.260 1,097,949 45,346,930 

These fluctuations follow the course of 
western business. In 1857 there was a 
heavy decline under the influence of the 
panic of that year. In 1858 the speculative 
I consumption of the interior having ceased, 
' the quantities that sought market were less 



1859, 3J60^285 16,804,812 
1870, 3,315,;i09 36,246,176 



'«1 



;P'' 



WESTERN SETTLEMENT AND TRADE. 



179 



than in 1856. The railroads also delivered 
considerable quantities. 

The rapid settlement of the west attracted 
the attention of tlie Canadians, and they be- 
gan early with some energy to tal;e measures 
that should give t'.iem their share of it. 
The St. Lawrence river was for them the 
only outlet, and to mate that ser\-iceable, ex- 
tensive works were necessary to pass around 
the rapids, and make navigation practicable 
from the lakes to the sea. The Wclland 
canal, passing around the Falls and connect- 
ing Lakes Erie and Ontario, was constructed, 
with other necessary works, completing, in 
184G, a system, at a cost of §20,000^000. 
The tolls on these works were considerable, 
and duties on goods imported into Canada 
from the United States were so high as to 
check trade — the more so that similar duties 
were imposed in the L'nited States on Cana- 
dian goods. In 1850 the navigation laws 
were repealed, opening the canals and rivers 
to f ireiLrn vessels. The difficulties in the 
way of navigating the St. Lawrence have 
since that date been, to a great extent, re- 
moved. Many light-houses liave been con- 
structed, the system of pilotage has been 
revised, a service of tug-boats, of great power, 
and working at moderate rates, has been 
organized, and the depth of water between 
Quebec and !Montrc>al has been increased by 
dredging, so as to permit the passage of 
vessels drawing eighteen feet si.\ inches. 
With these changes and improvements a 
new element lias been introduced. The 
construction of railways had begun to occupy 
the attention of the public mind in Canada. 
In 1849 an act of the Colonial Legislature 
was passed guaranteeing C per cent, on half 
the cost of all the railways seventy-five miles 
in extent. Three years later the Grand 
Trunk line, from Montreal to Toronto, and 
from Quebec to lliviere-du-Loup, was incor- 
porated as a part of the ilain Trunk line, 
ami the line from Quebec to liichmond had 
been commenced. In 185.3 the amalgama- 
tion of all the companies firming the Main 
Trui-k line was completed, under a I'arli.a- 
mentary sanction with powers to construct 
the Victoria Bridge across the St. Lawrence, 
and thereby connect the lines west of Mon- 
treal with those leading to Quebec and Port- 
land. 

By the aid of all these enterprises com- 
bined, there is now in operation in Canada 
2,093 miles of railway, including 1,112 miles 
of the Grand Trunk, the whole connected 



with the great winter harbor of Portland, in 
the state of Maine. 

To give effect to this great system of 
communication, the wliole system of tolls 
upon inland navigation lias been abandoned. 
The whole line of navigation from Chicago 
to the Atlantic is now free from tolls and 
lake dues, the ports of Sault Ste. Marine 
and Gaspe have been made free ports, and it 
is probable many more will be thrown 
open. A reciprocity treaty between Canada 
and the United States was adopted in 18.54, 
which continued in force till March ISCO, 
when, as the two contracting parties could 
not agree on terms for its renewal, it expired. 
This treaty designated a number of articles 
which were to be free from duty, and also 
granted some concessions in regard to the 
fisheries in return for some privileges which 
Canadians received here. The treaty went 
into operation in the latter part of 1854, and 
the trade was affected by it as follows : 



ISGO, 


18 667,429 


22,706,328 


23,851,381 


1861, 


18,883,715 


22,745,613 


23,062,933 


1862, 


18.652,012 


21,079,115 


19,299,995 


1863, 


28,629,110 


31,281,030 


24,021,264 


1864, 


26,567,221 


28,987,147 


38,922,015 


18G5, 


30,455,989 


32,553,841 


3^,820,969 


1866, 


26,874,888 


29,356,572 


54,714,383 


1867, 


20,548,704 


24,323,169 


33,604,178 


1868, 


23,600,717 


26,262,272 


30,362,221 


1869, 


20,891,786 


24,197,212 


32,090,314 




$362,900,937 


$444,512,595 


$435,443,751 


1870, 




25,118,604 


37,367,076 



The exports of United States produce to 
Canada have been in this period of eigliteea 
years nearly $73,000,000 less than the im- 
ports from Canada. But there liave been 
exported to Canada, in the same time, about 
$82,000,000 of foreign goods first received 
lit our own ports, so that the balance of the 
trade was about $9,')00,000 in our favor. 
1 he domestic exports are composed of the 
produce shipped from the American lake 
ports, and entered at the Canadian ports. 

It will be noticed that on the expiration of 
the treaty in March, 1866, there was a very 
manifest effort to crowd Canadian goods into 
our markets, the imports from Canada being 
nearly $16,000,000 more than in any former 
year, while the Canadians were not disposed 
to take so many of our goods as usual. This 
matter, however, speedily regidated itself, 
and the trade is now very nearly wSat^ 
was before the treaty was annulled. 

The efforts of Canada to obtain the trade, 
and cause it to pass down the St. Lawrence, 



ISO 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



had to overcome, however, the climate, to be 
successful ; for four montlis in tlie year that 
outlet is ice-bound, while the ports of Lake 
Ontario are never closed by the ice, and offer 
railroad connection M'ith New York, Boston, 
and I'hiladelphia, the former for export and 
the latter for supplies of manufacture. 



CHAPTER II. 

RIVER CITIES— ATLANTIC CITIES. 

The development given to the lake cities 
by the canal and railroad construction, was 
participated in to as great an extent by the 
river cities, the course of whose trade flowed 
downward toward New Orleans as an out- 
let. 

Pittsburg is situated at the point where 
the junction of the Monongahola and Alle- 
ghany forms the Ohio river, which tlienec 
Hows to the Gulf of Mexico. The origin of 
the place dates from its occupation by the 
French as a post, and its growth is due to 
its commanding position. It is .301 miles 
east by north from Philadelphia, and is 130 
miles from Lake Erie. Tlie traveller de- 
scends the river 450 miles to Cincinnati ; 
583 to Louisville, Kentucky; 977 to Cairo, 
where the Ohio pours into the Mississippi ; 
1,157 to St. Louis, and 2,004 miles to New 
Orleans. That vast valley collects in its 
course the produce coming right and left 
by streams, canals, and railroads, to deliver 
it at New Orleans, whence ascend the mer- 
chandise, tropical products, and materials of 
manufacture, to be distributed at the com- 
mercial and manufacturing ports. The 
position of Pittsburg was the most impor- 
tant, commercially, until the opening of the 
Eric canal. Its resources were highly 
favorable to ship-building, and it su])plied 
the iirst boats that descended the Ohio. Tlie 
commerce and ship-building prospered 
largely during the war of 1812, but after the 
peace it declined. Since that period manu- 
factures have taken the place of commerce, 
and it ranks next to Pliiladelphia as a man- 
/ ufacturing town. The population in 1800 
/ was 1,565, and in 1816 it was incorporated 
I as a city with .about 6,150 inhaliitants. 
The population of Pittsburg in 1870 was 
86,235, while Alleghany City, across the 
river, had 53,181, and other suburbs really 
forming part of the cjty, about 75,000 
wore, making a total of about 210,000. 



The progress of the city has been as fol- 
lows : — 

ropul.ition. Value of mnnufitcturea. 

1816, 6,182 $i,sut;,aue 

1836, 15,481 ir>,575,440 

1850, 46,G01 5,5. '^87, 000 

1860. 49,220 70,000,nno 

1870, 86,235 111,881,000 

Cincinnati was located at the moulh of 
the Licking river in 1788, in the centre of 
an area whicli commanded the commerce of 
the Miami, the AVab.i.sh, the Scioto, the 
Muskingum, and the Kanawha rivers. These 
streams delivered large qu.antities of produce 
to foster the trade of Cincinnati, which grew 
with great rapidity, corresponding mostly 
with New Orleans, to which its merchants 
sent the produce, and made purchases of 
goods in the eastern states, which came up 
the river from New Orleans by a long voy- 
age, charged with heavy expenses for freight, 
insurance, etc. The exchanges ran on New 
Orleans against the produce sent down, and 
these credits were the means of payments 
for goods. The opening of the Ohio canal 
to the lakes, to correspond with the Erie 
canal to tide-water, gave a new outlet for 
produce of the northern part of Ohio by way 
of Cleveland, and also a better channel for 
the receipt of goods. The net-work of niil- 
roads h.as still further multiplied the means 
of communication. Portland, I5o.ston, New 
York, I'hiladelphia, and Baltimore, arc almost 
enuidistant from Cincinnati, which by the 
same means has its markets extended in a 
broader circle west. The progress of the 
city has been as follows : — 

Population. Imports. M.iniifacturcs. Exports, 
isnn, 7,,o 

18 1 II. 2,5-40 

1S20, 9,M4 Jl,619,n.^0 lll,059,4.'.9 J1,S34,nSO 

1S.3II, M.ml 2.5'i>...">90 l.sJiO.IKHI l,ll( :i..',CO 

1SSI1, .Tl.'iOI 8,'J7li,l!(IO Ii.','SS.2 S,10I,III0 

IS4II, 4G,838 10.972,11110 17,7S0,li38 15.4Ml,liOII 

ISO. 1I5.;86 41.236,199 5J,5Jll,134 S.3,;S4,SriC 

18eil, 1 1.044 9(i."13.274 1 1 2.'.'54.Ol)0 01^.1107 707 

is7fi, 213,000 312,978,665 127,459,021 193,517,690 

These figures give the rapid growth of the 
city since the railro.ads have opened a broader 
field from which to draw the materials of 
trade in exchange for merchandise demanded 
by the growers. 

Louisville, Kcntuckj-, was a port early 
in 1781, and it made little progress as a 
city. Its population grew but to 6U0 in 
1800, and was only 4,012 in 1820. The 
difficulties of navigation were a drawback 
upon its commerce, until the Portland canal, 
two miles long, which liad been authorized 
in 1804, around the falls of the Ohio, was 
opened in 1830. The cost of the work, 
$600,000, was paid, one-third by the United 



RIVER CITIES ATLANTIC CITIES. 



ISl 



States, and tlic balance mostly in eastern 
cities interested in gettintr goods up the 
river. A bridge over the Ohio was built in 
183G, at a cost" of $250,000. The city was 
incorporated in 1828, and its population 
was then 10,330. In 1836 the population 
was 19,907, and the annual amount of busi- 
ness transacted was 829,004,202. In 1840 
the population was 21,210, and in 1850 it 
had aj;ain doubled, reaching 43,194. 

St. Louis was occupied as a French trad- 
ing post in 1703, and tlic town was laid out 
in the following year, with the name of St. 
Louis, in honor of that Louis XV. who had 
so little claim to saintship. The first im- 
pulse to its growth was, however, the annex- 
ation of Louisiana to the United States, 
when emigrants poured into the new coun- 
try, bringing with them a spirit of enterprise 
wliich soon made visible efl'ects upon St. 
Louis, the commerce of which struggled 



against the difficulties inherent in barge 
and keel boat navigation. In 1817 the 
General Pike, the first steamboat, arrived at 
St. Louis. That event marked a new era, 
and in 1822, the population being 4,598, the 
city was incorporated. It was not until the 
settlement of the north-western states, under 
the influence of the canals and railroads, that 
the prosperity of St. Louis became marked. 
In 1830 the sales of merchandise in St. 
Louis were given at $0,335,000 ; in 1858 the 
local insurance was §31,800,232. The popu- 
lation of the city, which had been 03,491 in 
1848, rose to 151,780 in 1860, and the city 
valuation was ¥^78,403, 375. Tlie settlements 
of the upper Mississippi, east and west, pour 
naturally an increasing trade into the city, 
and its railroad connections are now push- 
ing out toward the Pacific. We may re- 
capitulate the leading river cities as fol- 
lows : — - 



Settled. 
Date. 

Pittsburg 1784, 

Cincinnati 1T8S, 

Louisville 177.3, 

St. Louis 17M, 



Ineorpnr.nte<I. 



Date. 
ISin, 
1802, 
ISCS, 
1822, 



1S4(1. 



rojiulafn Pnpulat'n. 
21,115 
4i',33S 
21,510 
16,469 



6,160 
MO 

lo.nre 

4,698 



PMpiilatiu 
4(1.(01 
115,436 
43,191 

77,860 



V.iluation. 

$'.'7.'.'6i 1,600 
.66,670.031 
17,277.r,00 
3« 9-.; 1,201 



Population. 

49.220 
161,044 

69,740 
151,780 



Valuation. 

$40,866,600 
91.801.978 
30,IM2,800 
78,463,375 



Total 21,974 105,221 283,091 $139,630,032 431,784 $247,234,703 



Tlie numbers and wealth of the river cities 
have increased in a ratio, perhaps, larger than 
the lake cities. They divide with the latter 
the trade of countiy lying between the lakes 
and the Ohio river, drawing produce and 
shipping merchandise, while they have also a 
strong hold upon southern trade. The busi- 
ness of all those cities, as well lake as river, is 
but a reflection of the growth of the great sea- 
ports. The canals, streams, and railroads that 
pour forth their products in a southerly di- 
rection, and feed the river cities, combine 
with the other business points of the region to 
swell tlie trade of New Orleans, the common 
correspondent of all ; the roads, rivers, and 
streams that deliver their trade in a northerly 
and easterly direction, glut the great trunk 
lines with the merchandise which they pour 
int') Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and 
Baltimore. 

The city of New Orleaxs, at the Delta 
of the Mississippi, is commercially the second 
city of the Union, and in respect to the ex- 
ports of domestic produce, it ranks first. Its 
position is very advantageous, and its growth 
has been proportional to the development 
of the country, the resources of which sup- 
ply it with produce and depend upon it for 
merchandise in return. Tlie city itself was 



founded by the Frencli in I7l7, and passed 
into the hands of the Spanish in 1702. By 
them it was reconveyed to the French m 
1800,and wassoldby Napoleon to the United 
States in 1804. At that time its population, 
mostly French, was 8,056, and it was rapidly 
increased by the fact of annexation, which 
not only carried enterprising men thither, but 
settled the upper country, which was the 
source of trade. The city was chartered in 
1 805. In 1820 the population had increased 
to 27,176 persons, but the exports of the 
city still consisted mostly of the produce of 
the upper country, which a population, in- 
creased rapidly by the influence of war and 
speculation, had greatly developed, although 
the valley of the Mississippi had not yet 
attracted cotton planters. In 1830 the trade 
of the city marked a larger production of 
farm produce. In the succeeding ten years 
the migr.ttion from the Atlantic cotton states 
to the new lands of the valley produced a 
great change in the trade of New Orleans. 
The cotton receipts rose from 300,000 bales 
in 1830, to 954,000 in 1840, and tobacco 
from twenty -four to forty-three thousand 
hogsheads, and the sugar crop also had risen 
to 85,000 hhds. The exports were now 
swollen by the sales of cotton and tobacco, 



1R2 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TKADE. 



but, with the operation of the canals and been as follows. The figures for 1 860 are 
railroads in the upper country, the supplies 1 notpublished, but thecotton is 30 per cent, 
of home produce liad again become impor- 1 higher, and the amount will be about $200,- 
tant. The progress of New Orleans lias , 000,000 received from the interior. 



1804, 
1810, 
1820, 
1830, 
1840, 
1850, 
1851, 
1852, 
1863, 
1854, 
1855, 
1856, 
1857, 
1858, 
1859, 
1870, 



Population. 

8,056 

17,242 

27,176 

46,310 

102,193 

116,375 



168,472 
191,322 



Imports. 



$3,379,717 
7,599,083 
10,673,190 
10,760,499 
12,528,460 
12,057,724 
13,654,113 
14,402,150 
12,923,008 
17,183,327 
24,981,150 
19,586,013 
18,349,516 
14,993,754 



Export*. 
$1,392 093 
1,753,974 
7,242,415 
13,042,740 
34.236.936 
38,105,350 
54,413,903 
49,058,885 
67,768,724 
00,172,028 
55,688,552 
80,547,963 
91,514,286 
88,382,438 
101,734,952 
107,051,042 



Receipts from 
Interior. 



$45,701,045 
96,897,873 
106,924,083 
108,051,708 
134,233,731 
115,330,798 
117,106,823 
144,256,081 
158,061,369 
167,155,546 
172,952,664 
205,000,000 



Eeceipts of 
Specie. 



$3,792,662 
7,938,119 
6,278,523 
7,865,226 
0,967,056 
3,746,037 
4,913,540 
6,500,015 
13,268,013 
15,627,016 



Valuntion of 
Keal Estate. 



$66,350,260 



108,651,135 
111,193,802 
127,942,781 



This table embraces the official figures for 
population, trade, and valuation. The most 
marked feature is the small amount of im- 
ports as compared with exports. This we 
shall find to bo the reverse with the trade of 
New York ; the trade of the two cities for 
the past year having been as follows : — 

New York. New Orleana. 

Imports $31.5,200,022 $14,993,744 

Exports 254,137,208 107,657,042 

The exports from New York, exclusive 
of s]iecie and foreign goods re-exported, were 
$I8o,740,(K5l, the imports exceeding this by 
$129,459,961, while at New Orleans the ex- 
cess of exports was $82,564,902. Tliese 
(igures represent the course of trade. Tiie 
receipts from the interior at New Orleans 
rose from $96,897,873 in 1850, to $172,952,- 
664 in 1859. The vicissitudes of the war 
made great changes in the commerce of New 
Orleans, yet these receipts in 1870 were about 
$33,000,000 greater than in 1859. Sugar 
and molasses were $9,945,245 ; cotton was 
$120,000,000; rice, $869,340, while farm 
produce, minerals, &c., made up, together, a 
little more than $75,000,000. The lighter 
merchandise which forms tlie sum of imports 
into New York, instead of going round byway 
of New Orleans, goes across the country on 
railroads. It follows, that when the west 
sends forty millions of produce to New Or- 
leans for sale, and has purchased an equal 
amount of goods in the east, that its money 
is in New Orleans and its debts in New York. 
It draws upon New Orleans then to pay 
New York. New Orleans being so large an 



exporter, has largo sums due it, for which it 
draws to meet what it owes to the west for 
produce. This state of aflairs is the basis of 
bill operations. Firms being connected, one 
at Liverpool, one at New Orleans, and one at 
New York, the New Orleans house buys 
cotton for shipment to England, and draws 
for it at sixty days on the New York firm; 
the bill being discounted, places him in funds 
to pay for the cotton, which will arrive in 
Liverpool in thirty da3's. The New York 
firm draws a sterling bill against it at sixty 
day.s, and, with the proceeds, meets the bill 
drawn on it from New Orleans. The 
sterling bill is then mot by the sales of cotton 
four months after it was bought. In the 
mean time, the bill on New York passes into 
the hands of the western debtors of New 
York, who send it thither in payment of 
goods purchased. The sterling bill is sold 
to the New York importer, who remits it 
abroad in payment of goods imported. The 
receipts of cotton and sugar have been very 
large of late years, but the quantities of west- 
ern pi'oduce restdtingfrom the more rapid set- 
tlement of the land under the influence of 
the railroads, have also greatly increased. In 
1840, the value of cotton, sugar, and to- 
bacco received was $36,124,275, leaving but 
$9,591, 770 for western produce. In the 
year of famine the aggregate receipts at 
New Orleans rose to $90,033,251, of which 
$42,599,361 was western produce. In 1857, 
those articles were valued at $49,009,976 ; 
flour and grain counting in that year for 
nearly $1 5,000,000. I>y"mcans of time bills. 
New Orleans thus furnishes a large capital to 
dealers ; and in years of economy and re- 




ACADEMY OF DESIGN, N. V. 








COOPER INSTITUTE. CuNTAININU SCHOOL OF IIESIGN, 
(In which Young Ladie. are laughl Drawing and Engraving.) 








JfBW ti. i 1..... 




lUL M,H VulUv hlOCK EXCHANGE. 



RIVER CITIES ATLANTIC CITIES. 



183 



trenchment, when the purchases of goods are 
diminished, it shows a large inward current 
of specie. In 1851, California supplied a 
good deal of gold at that point, but-changed 
direction after the establishment of a mint 
at San Francisco, and the receipts of specie 
were small at New Orleans in 1855 — a specu- 
lative year. They became large with the 
panic year, and continued so till 1861, when 
the city, jouiing in the Rebellion, the branch 
mint was discontinued, and has not since 
been re-established. 

While New Orleans thus expanded its 
trade, and grew in wealth under the influ- 
ence of western production, the proportion 
that it enjoyed was by no means the largest. 
Each Atlantic city had made eftbrts to ob- 
tain a share, and, with more or less success, 
Canada sought to attract it down the St. 
Lawrence. New York built two railroads to 
aid the canals in connecting the lakes with 
ti<lc water. Boston formed a connection 
with the Hudson river, and another with the 
lakes at Ogdensburgh. Philadelphia im- 
proved its hold on Pittsburg. Baltimore 
tlirust out its iron arm to Wheeling, and all 
these oftered inducements to trade. The 
number of tons moved one mile during given 
years in each shows the progress of trade : 



Tons. Tons, 

Eriecanal, 1840 312,016,346 

Nfw York canals, 1869 919,153,611 

New York Central railroad, 1869, .2,179,419.726 

New York and Erie, 1869 817,829,190 2.211 ,402,527 

Increase in tonnage, 1,899,386,181 



The valuation of this tonnage is nearly 
1350,000,000 per annum, and this affords an 
indication only of the wealth which has 
passed eastward. Thus, in 1 840, the value of 
western produce, that found market by New 
Orleans and the Erie canal, was §51,000,000; 
in 1858, it was nearly 8400,000,000, or an 
increase ten-fold, and on this mainly has 
the prosperity of the eastern cities depended. 
The exports of the southern ports have 
grown mostly with the direct export of cot- 
ton, and those at the north have added grad- 
ually food and manufactures thereto. The 
general course of trade has been to cen- 
tralize imports in New York. 

Charleston owes its origin to a stock 
sirailar to that of New England, since a 
colony of French Huguenots, flying from 
persecution, settled there in 1690. It was 
not chartered as a city, however, until nearly 



a century later, viz. : in 178.3, when its popu- 
lation was nearly 16,000. The commerce of 
Charleston is not extensive, but its facilities 
for internal communications are large, and 
enjoys the trade of the whole state, together 
with much of that of North Carolina and 
Georgia. A canal, twenty-two nules long, 
connects the Cooper with the Santee river. 
It has a fleet of steamboats that are running 
to the neighboring cities, and several lines 
of packets running to New York regularly. 
Its mo.st important connection is, however, 
the South Carolina railroad, running 136 
miles to Hamburg, on the Savannah river, 
opposite Augusta, Georgia. The population 
and business have been as follows : — 

Population. Imports. K.'^pnrts. 

noo, lij..^59 $4,516,205 $i,U9H,268 

182U, 24,480 3,007,113 8,882,940 

1830, 30,289 1,054,619 1,627,031 

1840, 29,261 2,318,791 11,042,070 

1850, 42,985 1,933,785 11,447,800 

1860, 51,210 2,070 249 16,888,262 

1870, 48,956 617,094 11,184,208 

The importfitions have decreased and the 
export also, in consequence of the bu.-iness 
(lejiression which followed the wiu-, and from 
which the city is now slowly recovering. 

Baltimore was laid out as a town, by 
Roman Catholics, in 1729, and up to 1765 
it contained but fifty houses. The persua- 
sion of the founders still predominates. It 
is situated on the Patapsco river, fourteen 
miles from Chesapeake bay, and two hundred 
miles from the ocean. The harbor is a very 
fine one. The city enjoys great facilities for 
commerce, and possesses the trade of Mary- 
land and part of Pennsylvania, while it has 
of late obtained a good share of that of the 
western states. It w.as the great tobacco 
market of tlie country, but Richmond now 
rivals it in that respect. As a flour market, 
it has few equals. The building of railroads 
to connect with the interior has greatly pro- 
moted the city trade, which has progressed 
as follows : — 

Exports. \ 

$2,239,691 \ 



Population. Imports. 

1790, 13,503 $6,018,500 



1800, 26,514 

1810, 46,555 

1820, 62,738 

1830, 80,625 

1840, 102,313 

1850, 169,054 

1860, 212,419 

1870, 267,354 



4,070,842 
4,523,866 
5,701,869 
6,124,201 
8,930,157 
20,000,000 



12,264,331 
6,489,018 
6,609,364 
3,791,482 / 
4,524,575 / 
6,967,353 ,' 

10,442,616 

12,765,052 



The importations have been usually fol- 
lowed with increase ia exports, but 1870 



184 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



was an exception in consequence of the 
Franco-German war, which cut off the Eu- 
ropean demand for tobacco. 

PiiiLADKi.i'HiA. at the close of the last cen- 
tury ,was the first city of America, and though 
it has not ceased to expand since that time, 
yet New York, by force of natural advanta- 
ges, has come to exceed it as a commercial 
city. Its resources for manufacturing are 
such, however, as to have ^iven it a high 
rank in the interior trade of the country. 
The vvater-jiower of the neighborhood is very 
important, and rails and canals give it com- 
mand of limitless supplies of raw materials, 
coal and iron in particular. The position of 
the city was early improved by the construc- 
tion of canals to the extent of y3G miles, at 
a cost of $24,000,000; .and seven lines, com- 
posed of 1 2 railroads, of 507 miles in length, 
radiated to every point of the comjiass, hav- 
ing cost $53,716,201. The canals and roads 
have swollen ihe comI receiptsof Piiiladelpliia 
from 3(3") tons in 1820, to more than ln.ddi).- 
000 tons in 1870, valued at $;j5,0OI',OO<> 
per annum. The population and ext<rnal 
trade of Philadel]ihia have been as follows: — 

Popiilafion. Imports. Exports. Tat.il vaIu,ition, 



16S4, 


■^,5h(l 










179 1, 


42,5'>0 




$3,436,893 


V 




18 JO, 


10S,U6 


SS,1. ',8,922 


5,74.3,.'i49 


$411,48- 


,239 


1S40, 


2iS,lW7 


ll.i'Ml,! 11 


3,841,509 


99,32 


,S51 


issn. 


408.7112 


lilllifi.irit 


4,.')I)1.60G 






I'-S'S. 


.WD.IIIW 


12>;l2,2i5 


6,030,411 


15.%C9" 


,C69 


]S70, 


674,022 


17,oj.j,SL5 


16,049,823 


607,y87 


,iWO 



The city of Philadelphia was first settled 
in 1627 by the Swedes, but was regulated 
and laid out in 1G82 according to the views of 
William I'cnn, and its population in 1684 w.as 
2,500. The city is one hundred miles from 
the ocean, eighty-seven miles from New York, 
and 130 miles from Washington. It is five 
miles from the junction of the Schuylkill and 
Delaware rivers, extending from one to the 
other, and its harbor is on tlioDelawarc,or east- 
ern side. Vessels drawing more than twenty 
feet water cannot reach Philadelphia, and the 
navigation for large .ships below is a little 
difficult. Pilots take inward bound ships at 
sea. These circumstances have aided to give 
Philadelphia, a moderate foreign commerce 
as compared with the commanding harbor 
of New York. 

But if the foreign commerce of Philadel- 
phia is moderate, owing to physical diffi- 
culties, the internal commerce, from sales of 
manufactures and goods imported at New 
York, is very large — and the real growth 
of the city is indicated by her external trade 
less than that of, perhaps, any other city of 



the Union. The census of 1870 showed a 
population of G74,02"2. The manufacturing 
industry of Philadelphia has increased in a 
remarkable ratio. In 184.5 the capital em- 
ployed in the city proper was $18,000,000, 
the production $21,0(10,000, and of the 
neigbborho(.d $33,000,000. 

In 1870 the capital invested in the various 
industries was given at $20.5,.5C4,238,employ- 
ing 1 19,.532 hands, and producing $251,603,- 
921 of annual value. In Ihe vicinity tlie amount 
is $47,500,000 additional. These figures de- 
note that Philadelphia is probably the great- 
est manufacturing city of the Union, and 
will continue to grow in that direction by 
the force of the same iufiuencos which tend 
to give New York the commercial prepon- 
derance. The trade of the city is on a grand 
scale, and second to none in the world for 
m.agnitude of operations, or successful method 
in conducting thein. A leading .store of that 
city is a model of mercantile method. Each 
department in the store is alphabetically 
designated. The shelves and rows of goods 
in each dep.artment are numbered, and upon 
the tag attached to the goods is marked the 
letter of the department, the number of the 
shelf, and vow on that shelf to which such 
piece of goods belongs. The cashier receives 
a certain sum extra per week, and he is res- 
ponsible for all worthless money received. 
Books are kept, in which the sales of each 
clerk are entered for the day, and the salary 
of the clerk cast, as a per-centage on each 
day, week, and year, and, at the foot of the 
page, the aggregate of the sales appears, and 
the per-centage that it has cost to effect 
these sales is easily calculated for each day, 
month, or year. The counters are desig- 
nated by an imaginary color, as the blue, 
green, brown, etc., counter. The yard-sticks 
and counter-brush belonging to it are painted 
to correspond with the imag'inary color of 
the counter ; so by a very simple arrange- 
ment, each of these necessaries is kept where 
it belongs; and should any be missing, the 
faulty clerks are easily known. 

All wrapping paper coming into the store 
is. immediately taken to a counter in the 
basement, where a lad attends with a pair 
of shears, whose duty it is to cut the paper 
into pieces to correspond with the size of the 
parcels sold at the different departments, to 
which he sees that it is transferred. All 
pieces too small for this, even to the smallest 
scraps, are by hiin put into a sack, and what 
is usually thrown away by our merchants, 




till oMeii time.] 



L.VlIIA.Mj]:, I'LACL, IGJO. 




A. T. STEWART'S RESIDENCE. FIFTH AVENUE, N. Y., FIRST CLASS DWELLING, 1870. 



NEW YORK TELEGRAPn EXPRESS GOLD. 



185 



yields to the sj-stcmatic man some S'20 per 
year. In one part of the establishment is a 
tool closet, with a work-bcncli attached ; the 
closet occupies but little space, yet in it is 
seen almost every useful tool, and this is 
arranged with the hand-saw to form the cen- 
tre, and the smaller tools radiating from it 
in sun form ; behind each article is painted, 
■with black paint, the shape of the tool be- 
longing in that place. 

It is, consequently, impossible that any 
thing should be out of place except through 
design, and if any tool is missing, the wall 
will show the shadow without the substance. 
The proprietor's desk stands at the further 
end of the store, raised on a platform facing 
the ftxmt, from which he can see all the 
operations in each section of the retail de- 
partment. From this desk run tubes, con- 
necting with each department of the store, 
from the garret to the cellar, so that if a 
person in any department, either porter, re- 
tail, or wholesale clerk, wishes to communi- 
cate with the employer, he can do so with- 
out leaving his station. Pages are kept in 
each department to take the bill of parcels, 
together with the money paid, and return 
the bill receipted, and change, if any, to the 
customer. So that the salesman is never 
obliged to leave the counter ; he is at all 
times ready either to introduce a new article 
or watch that no goods are taken from his 
counter, excepting those accounted for. 

By a peculiar method of casting the per- 
centage of a clerk's salary on his sales, coup- 
ling it with the clerk's general conduct, and 
the stylo of goods he is selling, a just esti- 
mate may be formed of the relative value of 
the services of each, in proportion to his 
salary. By the alphabetic arrangement of 
departments, numbering of shehes, and form 
of the tools, any clerk, no matter if lie has 
not been in the store more tlian an hour, can 
arrange every article in its proper place ; and 
at any time, if inquired of respecting, or re- 
ferred to by any clerk, the proprietor is able 
to speak understandingl}' of the capabilities 
and business qualities of any of his employees. 
Population in 1800, fi7;^,022. 

Boston was settled early in the seven- 
teenth centnrv, and in 1681 was the most 
populous of the Atlantic cities, having 6,300 
inhabitants. It is 216 miles from New 
York, and although possessed of one of the 
finest harbors on the coast, it had no facilities 
for reaching the back country, wdiicli was for 
the most part rocky and mountainous, until 



Population. Imports. 
16S4, li..3«0 

1790, 18,083 $6,519..'ill0 

1S20, 43.-.93 l■i,^•2t).^32 

1S30, 61,392 10,453,544 

1S40, 9H.;-.;3 13,.'i00,9i5 

1S50, 138,S»1 30,374.664 

1S55, 163,6 9 45,113,774 

1S."8, 170.000 40,432,710 



railroads were constructed. Its early trade 
was in navigation and the fisheries. Its first 
adventure was in 1027, when a sloop, loaded 
with corn, was sent to Narraganset to trade, 
and made an encouraging voyage. Its in- 
habitants soon became rich by doinf the 
trade of others in their celebrated ships, un- 
til manufacturing became possible. The 
energy and intelligence of the race, when 
turned in that direction, soon drew large 
profits from their industry, and moi'c freight 
for their coasting tonnage, which increased 
as the numbers engaged in manufacture re- 
quired more food and raw materials. The 
greatest start was given to the trade of the 
city when railroads had laid open even the 
remotest regions of the interior to its enter- 
prise. The general course of its population, 
trade, and valuation lias been as follows : — \ 

Exports. YaliL-ition. I 

$2,.il7.6".l J6,09n.8!IO ; 

li,iios.y'j2 ;i>>.2SS,'2oo 

7,'2I3.I94 Cl,7,--0,210 

9,104,s62 )ll..',IOI.201 

10,681,763 180,0110.600 

28,190.935 249.512,600 

20,979,^63 262,014.500 

1870, 250,&26 47,524,845 14,108,821 65t,U8S',4C« 

Tlio exports of Boston have taken a great 
start since 18.30, and since then tlicre liave 
been constructed nine lines of railroad, which 
radiate from Boston in every direction ; 
placing every town in New England in con- 
nection with it, and by continuous lines, every 
city of the Union, from Bangor to New 
Orleans, St. Louis, Chicago, and St. Paul. 
The running of the line of Cunard steamers 
gives it a European connection more prompt 
and regular than any other. Its extensive 
trade shows the eft'ect of these connections, 
and its taxable valuation the wealth that 
accumulates from its manufacturing industry. 
That valuation was, for 1870, $.584,039,400, 
and the population 250,526. 

CHAPTER III. 

NEW YORK— TELEGRAPH— EXPRESS- 
GOLD. 

The city of New York, at the close of the 
revolution, was the second city of the new 
world, taking rank after I'hiladelphia. Its in- 
ternal trade was limited to the capacity of the 
Hudson river, but its traders pushed across to 
Lake Champlain, and even to Lake Ontario, 
whence they drew skins and furs from the 
Indians, and brought down some of the prod- 
uce of Vermont and New Hampshire. At 
this date there was little trade west of 
Albany. The trade was mostly with the 



186 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



towns on the east side of the river, and with 
Rutland, BurUngton, and other Vermont 
towns, as well as the western towns of Massa- 
chusetts. Remittances were made from 
these towns in ashes, wheat, etc., and during 
the embargo and war, smuggling was very ex- 
tensively carried on, taking pay in specie. 
The goods went up the river in sloops. The 
New England cities had equal commercial 
advantages, and Philadelphia enjoyed many 
others in addition. The valley of the Hud- 
son furnished, however, large supplies of 
farm produce during the wars of Europe, 
which gave a preponderance to the New 
York trade, and it began to gain strength. 
In 1807 the passage of Fulton's steamer to 
Albany gave a great impulse to the river 
trade. Her statesmen, however, soon saw 
the necessity of a more extended inland com- 
munication, and the canal, which had been 
projected before the peace, became a legal 
reality in 1817, and a ph^-sical fact in 18:25. 
The capital of the New York merchants be- 
gan to be invested in enterprises which re- 
sulted in centring trade in the city. The 
canal connection opened the vast circle of 
the lake trade to New York city, and poured 
into its basin the western farm produce at 
rates far below what the same articles could 
be raised for at the east. As a necessity, 
tliercfore. New York became the point of 
supply, not only for the foreign trade, but 
for the neighboring states. The growing 
manufactures of I'liiladelphia and Boston 
found cheaper food in New York than in 
their own neighborhood, and North river 
sloops and schooners continued the Erie 
canal to the Delaware and the Charles river. 
As new routes to the west, and more ex- 
tended settlements in that region opened 
new sources for the supply of produce, and 
new markets for goods, the tendency was to 
New York. The capital engaged in com- 
merce at that point being the largest, prod- 
uce found readier advances and more 
prompt realization, while the large imports 
and consignments of foreign goods made the 
assortment larger and the average cost less 
there than elsewhere. The same circum- 
stance that drew produce into New York 
bay, also drew eastern manufactures to the 
same point, and this increased the assort- 
ment which was to be found at the common 
centre. The fact that produce tended gen- 
erally to New York, as a matter of course 
made it the centre of finance. The United 
States government, and bank, and mint had 



been established at Philadelphia. Those 
circumstances could not, however, control 
the currents of trade. The pork, and corn, 
and wheat of the west, the manufactures of 
the east, the tobacco, cotton, and rice of the 
south, being sent to New York to obtain 
advances, it followed that from all quarters 
bills drawn against produce ran on New 
York. Those bills found buyers amonf 
the country dealers, who, in all directions, 
wanted to remit to New York to pay for 
goods there purchased. Capital could not 
keep aloof from the focus of transactions, and 
all loans to be made or financial operations 
to bo conducted, sought New York. For 
the same reason all funds seeking investments 
went there to find them. Produce, goods, 
raw material, capital, all operated in refer- 
ence to New York, and tlie foreign trade 
was the motor which kept up the circulation. 
This tendency to a centre once commenced, 
cannot be turned, but it strengthens with 
the general increase of the country. The 
other cities strive to turn a portion of the 
current each in its own direction, but the 
result of those efforts is only to increase the 
aggregate trade of the whole. 

If the amount of specie exported, and for 
the most part tliat is but a transit trade from^ 
California, is deducted from the New York 
account. New Orleans will be found to come 
witliin S8S.00l),0i'0 of it. The Unas of 
communication witli tlie interior, and the 
facilities for advancing on produce, drew to 
New York a considerable portion of the 
western produce, and operations are now 
there carried on which partake of a specula- 
tive character. Pork, flour, etc., are often sold 
largely for future delivery on the New York 
exchange ; and nmch of the cotton shipped 
from southern ports direct to Europe, is 
resold in New York many times before it 
arrives out. When the cotton is put on 
board ship for Liverpool, samples and bills 
of lading are sent to New York, and the 
cotton sold " in transitu " — that is, during 
its passage to Europe. Should the ocean 
telegraph come into operation, this system 
could be carried to a much greater extent, 
since news from the Liverpool market could 
be received at least thirty days after a cargo 
is shipped before its arrival out ; and in 
speculative times, other articles will be sub- 
ject to file same operations. The export J)f 
corn first became a large business in the 
famine years of 1847-8, and the sub- 
divisions of qualities, round and flat, yellow, 



NE"W YORK TELEGRAPn EXPRESS GOLD. 



187 



white, etc., then manifested themselves. In 
1859 the crops were greatly beyond any 
former experience, and every available 
means of transportation was taken up to 
convey them to market. The realization of 
them depends upon the quantities that Eu- 
rope may require, and this depends upon the 
events of a few weeks. The steamers now 
give intelligence in eight or ten days, when 
formerly thirty were required. Since the 



ocean telegraphs have worked, the price of 
corn in Liverpool is known simultaneously 
in New York and Chicago, and water trans- 
portation pressed to the utmost before the 
frosts close it. 

The proportion which each of the cities 
named enjoys of the aggregate export trade 
of the whole country, is seen in the following 
table : — 



EXPORTS OF THE LEADING ARTICLES OP DOMESTIC PRODUCE FROM THE CHIEF ATLANTIC CITIES IN 1870. 

Boston. Plailadelphia. 

Boef $92,631 $34',9ft7 

Pork 4+l,G98 116,147 

Luintjcr 223,755 92,556 

Furniture 448,720 3,181 

PctroluLim and coal oils. 586,130 11,662,120 

Butter 37,875 13,128 

Cheese 7,623 5,018 

Hams, &e 255,511 39,272 

Lard 139,694 234,626 

Tallow 346,547 119,746 

Cotton 148,179 

Tobacco, manufactured. 151,345 6,218 

leaf 478,226 26,757 

Rice 7,922 85 

Naval stores 58,321 10,687 

Brass manufactures 2,764 1,095 

Iron " 1,615,554 384,107 

Cotton " 50.980 5,403 

Wood " 767,770 894,773 

Gold and silver coin 10,073 7,317 

" bullion.. 

Corn 80,519 190,164 

Wheat 1,504,377 

Flour 1,160,653 923,955 

Spirits 652,952 280 

Sewing machines 117,934 2,460 

Total $7,784,376 $16,278.329 3 



Baltimore. 


New Orleans. 


New York. 


Total. 


828,521 


$9,237 


$1,754,953 


$1,920,299 


110,710 


25,914 


2,098,345 


2.792,814 


108,029 


30,691 


729,692 


1,194,723 


2,060 


2,122 


600,520 


1,056,603 


452,120 


6,920 


19,815,159 


32,522,449 


30,694 


7,785 


415.1.36 


.504,618 


11,644 


2,397 


8,824.987 


8,851,669 


52,859 


57,341 


5,589,822 


5,994,505 


288,657 


227,196 


4,980,906 


5,870,979 


65,518 


231,969 


3,013,415 


3,777,195 


3,393,510 


100,686,701 


44 076,531 


148,.304,921 


35,247 


4,657 


1,246,669 


1,434,176 


3,553,418 


3,047,593 


12,373,804 


19,479,798 


18 


500 


55,157 


63,682 


607,787 


27,484 


1,446,218 


2,150,497 


2,372 


143 


150,438 


156,792 


1 1 ,832 


16,297 


8,015,365 


10,043,155 


112,203 


12,=il9 


2,354,747 


3,135,910 


771,105 


334,125 


3,083,275 


5,851,048 


19,740 


270,.366 


11,227,516 


11,556,012 






11,674,570 


11,674,570 


224,180 


144,624 


976,208 


1,715,695 


1,293,645 


444,180 


28,154,215 


31,. 396,4 1 7 


2,320,651 


1,611,270 


11,614,663 


17,631,198 


366 


1,753 


40,846 


696,097 


285 


2,155 


2,066,224 


2,187,058 


13,507,177 $107,237,091 $186,983,288 


$331,903,180 



The opening of the Erie canal in 1825, 
gave the first decided impulse to the city 
business, and produced a powerful effect 
upon its prosperity. The impulse was pro- 
longed under the bank excitement that ex- 
ploded in 1837. Tlie effect of railroad ex- 
tension at the West has, in the last twenty- 
five years, had a still more powerful influence 
upon its growth. Tiie following table gives 
the population, imports, exports, and taxable 
valuation, for a long period : — 





Population 


Imports. 


Exports. 


Valuation. 


16 J4, 


2,WI0 


S4,.579 


S10,093 




ITiiO, 


10,3-il 


267.130 


35,6.32 




17W, 


a3,131 


10,739,250 


2,505,415 




IS 10, 


60.489 


20.201,000 


14,045.079 


$25,645,867 


1S2I), 


123,706 


23,029,216 


13,160,918 


69,630,753 


IVill, 


203,007 


30,624,070 


19,097,983 


125,288,518 


]^4>l, 


312,710 


60,440,7,50 


34,2'i4,nR0 


252,233,515 


Is.Vi, 


515,.547 


111,123,.524 


52,712,7S9 


286,061,816 


Km, 


629,914 


F>4, 770,511 


113.731 ,S38 


486,998,278 


m;<i. 


813,063 


2.33,718,718 


138,036,.550 


577,2.30,056 


1870, 


912,310 


315,200,022 


254,131,205 


965,283,464 



Up to the year 1840, the business of the 
West depended mostly on the canal, and by 



way of New Orleans. The city held then a 
kind of monopoly, but, like all monopolies, 
it cramped the producers. The large ex- 
penditure at the We^t for bank capital, in 
the years 1836-37, Caused a great credit 
demand for goods upon New York, which 
was generally met. The facilities granted 
in those years by the American bankers in" 
London, for the purchase of goods on credit, 
placed these within the reach of any dealer 
who could make a fair show ; and the goods 
obtained on credit required to be sold on 
the same terms. The rivalry thus produced 
among those who could command goods, was 
very great, and the utmost efforts were made 
to obtain paper in exchange for goods. The 
banks showed the same eagerness to discount 
the paper that the merchants did to obtain 
it, and the mass grew in a rapid ratio, from 
the small country dealers to city jolibers and 
importers, and London bankers, until the 



183 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



Bank of England, in August, 1836, issued a 
warning to those houses to curtail their 
credits. This was the " hand writing on the 
wall" — settling day had come. The business 
south and west had then been eagerly sought 
after by the jobbing-houses, who employed 
drummers to haunt the New York hotels 
and beset every new-comer with tempta- 
tions to bu}'. The drummers of the day had 
usually no limit placed upon their expenses, 
which were intended to cover the "atten- 
tions " shown to the country dealer. These 
revelled in the dissipations of the town at the 
apparent expense of their entertainer, and 
they could do no less than buy of such atten- 
tive friends, when the bill, whether they dis- 
covered it or not, would often cover their 
own and other people's expenses. The 
mode of business then in vogue, when banks 
were multiplying so rapidly all over the 
country, was to take tlie paper of the dealers, 
payable at their own local bank. It was 
supposed that the dealer would be sure to 
keep his credit good at homo. The result 
showed that the dealer, in order to pay the 
New York bill, got an aeconnnodation note 
done at his baidc, which thus became the 
debtor of the New York collecting bank. 
By this means, althougli the New York 
merchant got his money, the west was still 
in debt to the cast; and this continued as 
long as capital was sent from the east to the 
west to start banks. The whole system ex- 
ploded in ISSV, and the bank capitals were 
sunk in these credits. From that date there 
was to be " no more credit," a threat which 
has often been repeated without being put 
in practice. The only permanent change 
seemed to be to require notes payable in New 
York. Those are given at dates longer or 
Bliorter, but the system is an improvement 
on the old mode. With 1840 also began 
the railroad building, which brought stocks 
and bonds to Now York for negotiation, and 
the money being expended west promoted 
consumption of goods, which caused a greater 
demand in New York. The exports of prod- 
uce increased at higher prices, and the 
sales of these gave tlie producers the means 
of buying more goods. In 1 S:1S, thirty-one 
years after the first successful steamboat, ar- 
rived the first ocean steamer, the Sirius, at 
New York, marking a new era in foreign 
trade, since communication with Eumpe 
was now reduced to lialf the time, a circum- 
stance which was e'|uivalent to an increase of 
capital engaged in commerce, because it 



could be turned oftoner. From that date 
ocean steam navigation rapidly increased. 
The electric telegraph of Morse began a few 
years later to exert its influence in facili- 
tating intercourse, and the express sys- 
tem was also introduced. It is somewhat 
singular, that with the breakdown of the old 
credit system and the adoption of the plan 
of making notes payable in New York, four 
important elements, having the highest cen- 
tralizing tendencies, began to operate. These 
were, first, ocean navigation ; second, the 
more extended construction of railroads ; 
third, the invention and construction of tele- 
graphs — there are now 125,000 miles of wires, 
that liave cost over $2,000,000, consolidated 
in one company, and New York is the centre 
for the whole : and, fourth, the express system 
of intercourse. All these, centring in New 
York, came into active operation at the mo- 
ment w hen gold was discovered in California, 
to give them an extraordinary impetus. The 
express business is peculiarly American, and 
has grown with a vigor which places it among 
the most important trading facilities of the 
country. In the spring of 1839, a year after 
the arrival of the Sirius at New York, W. 
F. Ilarnden, then out of employ in Boston, 
was advised by his friends to get a valiso and 
take small packages and parcels from his 
acquaintances in Boston to their correspond- 
ents in New York, and return with what 
they had to send, making a small charge for 
his services. He did so, and discovered that 
a groat public want was to be supplied. He 
soon contracted with the railroad to send a 
car through with his goods, and with busi- 
ness tact he opened offices, cmploj-ed mes- 
sengers, pushing the business with American 
energy. In 1840 an opposition was started 
b}' Adams. In 1841 new fields were explored 
liy Ilarnden, who ran an express between 
Albanv and Boston, and one between Albany 
and New York. Route after route was then 
opened to express agents, penetrating further 
and further, and multiplying their lines in 
the densely settled portions of the country; 
not only between cities, but between difi'erent 
portions of the same city. In 1845, Buffalo 
was reached by "Wells & Co. In 1849, the 
gold fever brought California within the 
scope of express operations, and from San 
Francisco as a centre, " pony " expresses ran 
to the diggings with great success, placing 
the solitary miners of the Sierra Nevada in 
direct connection with the mint and with Wall 
street. As these busy agents continued to 



NEW YOKK TELEGRAPH EXPRESS GOLD. 



189 



increase, and lessen the difBculty of commu- 
nication, trade multiplied as a consequence. 
The telegraph had also penetrated most 
direct routes between cities, and that instru- 
ment came in aid of the express, which 
executed an order transmitted by telccraph. 
Instead of waiting the slow course of the 
post for a replay, the telegraph gave an in- 
stantaneous order for goods that "the express 
conveyed. Thus, the three months that 
would once have been consumed in coming 
from Cincinnati for goods and returnin"'-, was 
reduced to tliree days. All the cities of the 
union were brought within similar speaking 
distance. In 1 850 it was estimated that the 
expresses travelled twenty thousand miles 
daily, in discharge of orders, and the service 
has since doubled. Steam, the telegraph, 
and the express, had thus greatly facihtated 
trade, by making the long semi-annual ex- 
peditions to the large cities, for the pur- 
chase of goods, unnecessary. Tlie small 
dealers could now buy frequently in small 
parcels the goods they found most in demand, 
instead of buying a six months' stock, and 
taking the risk of the goods being well se- 
lected for the market." This als*? brouu'ht 
with it another change. It liad been the 
case, that most of the goods sent to America 
formerly were the surplus stock of the British 
manufacturers. That is, where patterns liad 
been got up for the home consumption and 
the regular trade supplied, there would remain 
a stock that lial become comparatively dead 
by age. This dead stock was " good enouijli 
for the American market," and 'was sent out 
almost for what it wouhl brini;, and beini,' 
transported into the interior for six months' 
sales, became a sort of llobson's choice for 
the consumers. When, however, frequent 
arrivals of new goods came to be laid before 
the customers, they immediately displayed 
a taste and exercised a choice. Ill-assorted 
goods would now not sell at all. English 
refuse became of no value, because American 
taste w;i3 developing itself with considerable 
strength. The customer was no loncjer to 
take what was laid before him; but inorder 
to sell, the dealer was now to exercise his 
sagacity as to what would please his taste 
in selecting it, and his judgment in buying it. 
The manufacturer of dry goods was obliged 
to follow in the same diivciion, and the em- 
ployment of designers became important. It 
was now that llie saL.'acity and taste of the 
factory agents were felt to be an indispensa- 
ble element in the success of a concern. The 



production of a design was promptly followed 
by the judgment of the public, and manu- 
facturing became, as it were, one of the fine 
arts. 

The joint operation of these new acrencios 
manifested itself in 1850, when the west had 
become enriched with the large sales it had 
made of its produce during the famine years, 
and the railroads and canals, then in opera- 
tion, had profited largely by the higli froio-hts 
and tolls paid by produce on its way to 
market. The gold of California was now in 
its turn adding a new stinmhis to the busi- 
ness of the city. In 1852 the Miehi^-an 
roads had opened tlirough to Cliicao-o, and 
New York was now, by rail, within'thirty- 
six hours of that eit}-. "The projection and 
construction of railroads went on rapidly, 
constantly adding to the business of New 
York — the common centre, whence the 
means to build were drawn, and to which 
these means returned in the pureliase of 
goods. The Crystal Palace, in 1853, drew 
great numbers of persons to the city, and 
gave a start to retail trade, which liad an 
important eftect upon the value of real 
estate and the location of business. In the 
above table we find that the imports into 
the city from abroad rose fifty per cent, 
in the fiva years to 1855, and the total 
valuation two hundred millions. This valu- 
ation followed the changed location of busi- 
ness. In the speculative times of 1830-7, 
the old Pearl .street house, in Hanover square, 
was the headcjuarters of country dealers, and 
that squ.arc the centre of tlie dry goods trade, 
around which all others agglomerated. The 
great fire of December, 1835, by which the 
lower part of the city and a value of §18, 000,- 
000 was destroyed, broke up the location, 
which, however, was speedily rebuilt, and, with 
the rebuilding, the Merchants' Exchan^•e was 
enlarged and reconstructed at an expense of 
$1,800,000. The usual fate overtook occu- 
piers in the inordinate demands of landlords, 
and the leading firms pushed across Wall 
street and made Pine and Cedar streets the 
great centre. Gradually firm after firm ven- 
tiired upon Broadway, which, in 1845, was 
visited by a fire that caused the rebuilding of 
the lower portion, no longer for dwellini-s, 
but f>r substantial stores." One firm went 
up to the corner of Rector street, one-quarter 
of a mile from the Battery, and took the site, 
long vacant, of the old Grace church, at a 
I lease. "Too high up," said conservatism, 
as the crowd rushed by, and the great retail 



190 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



firm of Stewart & Co. took the old Wash- 
ington hotel at the corner of Chambers, .and 
occupied the block with a marble store which 
then had no equal in any city. Here import- 
ing and jobbing are carried on to the extent 
ot $jO,OOU,OOa by one who, by his energy 
and enterprise, has increased a capital of a 
few hundreds to millions, and now employs 
twelve hundred and iifty clerks and others. 
There were handsome stores before this was 
built, but this commenced the era of expen- 
sive structures. The demands of luxury 
have led to the erection, up town, of elegant 
trade palaces of iron, marble, and freestone, 
for the leading firms in the dry goods, jew- 
elry, clothing, porcelain, and other branches 
of trade ; while the wholesale dealers, invad- 
ing the old college ground, have covered it 
with stores of great size and beauty. The 
centre of business which, thirty years since, 
was within a fourth of a mile of the Battery, 
is now two and a half miles distant, and the 
value of real estate has followed like a 
" ground swell," reaching incredible rates. 
A marble store on Broadway was rented in 
18G0 for $J0,000 per annum, and in 18()7 
for $75,000. A lot on Broadway, near 
Broome, sold in I8J9 at |)rivate sale for 
$llO,Oi>0; it had been bought at auction in 
1852 for $i5,(i0U. An elderly gentleman 
present remarked, " This lot was part of 
the old Colonel Bayard farm, and was given 
by the colonel to his barber for a hair-dress- 
ing bill. I have seen it sold four times, and 
each time people decided the buyer crazy to 
give such a price." The Society Liljrary 
lot, corner of Leonard and Broadway, sold 
with the budding in 1849 for $G0,0( 10 ; after 
the costly stores erected on it were burned in 
18G7, it was sold for S050,000, and a build- 
ing costing about $1,IOO,OOU erected on it. 
The " Central I'ark," to cover 843 acres, 
\\as projected, and has since been prosecuted, 
at a cost of over $12,1100,000, having em- 
ployed in the fourteen years, over 50,0u0 
men. 

The city has spread toward the upper 
wards through the agency of railroads, which 
have enabled workmen and merchants to live 
further from their [ilaces of occupation. The 
importance of consuming as little time as 
])ossible iu co ning from and going to occu- 
])ation, made it requisite formerly, that per- 
sons should live near iheir business. The 
old cities of Europe are thus built with nar- 
row streets and ^ery high houses, to accom- 



modate many in a little space. Modern 
cities are built on a broader scale. Omni- 
busses first came into play to give a greater 
breadth to the dwellings of the people, and 
horse-railroads have still further expanded 
the area. Manhattan island forming a point 
at the Battery, runs northerly between the 
North and East rivers. From the park the 
city spreads in a fan-like form east and west, 
and from that point radiate twelve railroads, 
including the Harlem, which runs by the 
Fourth avenue to Albany. The eleven other 
roads run on as many routes, and carry their 
passengers from three to eight miles, return- 
ing with them to a common centre every 
morning to business. These eleven railroads 
cost about $12,500,000. In 1869 they 
transported about 131,000,000 passengers. 
There are in New York city thirteen other 
raih'oads not having their terminus at the 
Park, which cost somewhat more than the 
eleven, and carry altogether nearly as many 
passengers. In Brooklyn there are thirty 
horse-railioads which have cost nearly $25,- 
000,000, and carry about 150,000,000 pas- 
sengers. The telegraph also comes to play 
an important part in the city business. Many 
large firms whose oliiccs are in the lower 
part of the city, and warehouses and manu-. 
fiictories in the upper part, connect the two 
by telegraph, to transmit orders and for in- 
formation. All the police stations connect 
by telegraph to give alarms of robbery, and 
fire alarms are also conveyed by the same 
means. The ''time ball " also operates by 
telegraph. On the top of the Custom House, 
sixty feet high, is a mast on which slides a 
black ball some twenty feet in diameter. 
This can be seen from any )iart of the 
bay. It is hoisted to the top of the pole, 
and is so arranged that the moment the 
sun reaches the zenith, by observation, at 
Albany, it is released by electricity and fiills, 
marking twelve o'clock, by which every 
ship master in the port may set his chrono- 
meter. 

All the railroads, continually running 
night and day, aided by six stage routes, 
bring the business and working population 
to their occupations, and back at night ; yet 
all these routes are insufficient to transport 
the hundreds of thousands who need convey- 
ance, within a reasonable time, and new 
routes, elevated and viaduct, have been prO' 
jected, with cars drawn by steam power, to 
facilitate rapid transit. 




IMERIUK Oi A CAUPEI HULSE 




INTERIOR OF A DRV UUUUS KUCSE. 



NEW YORK TELEGRAPH EXrRESS GOLD. 



191 



Tlie aggregate of passengers conveyed 
each year by tlie railroads and stages in New 
York and Brooklyn, is about ten times the 
population of the United States ; the greater 
number going to and coming from their busi- 
ness by these conveyances ever}' working 
day. This facility of transit allows business 
men to concentrate tiieir stores and ware- 
houses around certain points, thus affording 
better opportunities (or purchasers from dis- 
tant cities and villages to purchase their 
stocks without spending much time in going 
from one warehouse to another to select the 
great variety of goods which go to make up 
a general assortment. The importers, job- 
bers, and large dealers reside, of course, at a 
distance from their warehouses, but they are 
brought promptly and readily to them by 
cars, stages, or steamers. Yet these centres 
of trade change materially every four or 
five years. The jobbiiig and importing trade 
in all articles pertaining to a dry goods stock, 
are none of thim below the Park, and are 
rapidly concentrating above Canal street, 
while the retailers of the first class are erect- 
ing their magnificent stores in the neighbor- 
hood of Union Park. Ten or twelve years 
ago Lord & Taylor's fine store on the corner 
of Grand street and Broadway, was regarded 
as very far uptown tor a retail establish- 
ment. That, as well as Arnold & Consta- 
ble's on Canal street, and Stewart's on the 
corner of Bro idway and Chambers street, 
have now been for some time wholesale 
stores exclusively. The change is a very 
great one from the time when even large 
dealers lived in the dwelling houses over 
their stores and boarded their clerks. 

Perhaps the greatest difference which 
purchasers who come to the New York mar- 
ket aie called to observe, is in the division 
of the goods. Formerly a dry goods jobber 
kept a tuU assortment of every thing in his 
line, and it requiretl no little tact and exer- 
cise of memory to keep each line full. Now, 
one hou>e confines it-elf to woolens, another 
to cottons, another to silk-, and yet another 
to fancy articles ; and even these are sub- 
divided, as in woolens one will keep tailors' 
goods, another dress goods and women's 
wear ; in cottons, one confines himself to 
prints, another to the plain goods ; in silks, 
we have establishments tor piece goods, and 
others for ribbons and smaller articles. The 
tendency is to a still more minute division, 
and thus we have a dealer in hosiery, a 



dealer in lace, a dealer in perfumery, a dealer 
in pocket handkerchiefs, a dealer in shawls, 
and one house keeps nothing Imt suspenders ! 
Thirty years since the manufacture of cloth- 
ing became a separate business, and it has 
since subdivided into many branches. There 
are now establishments exclusively for the 
sale of spool cotton, and others for braids 
and bindings, and others still for buttons, for 
fringes, and for Berlin wool. We are not 
prepared to say that the division of goods 
here noticed may not be a positive conveni- 
ence, although it certainly increases the la- 
bor of the purchaser. It has led to greater 
method in the purchase of goods, and buyers 
are now provided with catalogues of goods in 
each department, so arranged as to make 
purchasing much easier. Buyers now make 
a corresponding <livision also of their time, 
and one day is set apart for woolens, another 
for silks, and so on through the whole cata- 
logue. Could some staid customer of the 
last century, awaking from a Rip Van Win- 
kle sleep, be set down at this day in some of 
our thronged thoroughfares, he would get 
sorely jostled and foot-weary before he liad 
made a black cross against all the articles 
upon his memorandum. 

The sujjplies of goods for the country 
dealers are derived from various sources ; 
small wares from city manufacturers ; do- 
mestics from the mills or agents ; foreign 
goods from importers or agents of foreign 
manufacturers. The local manufactures are 
generally purchased by the jobbers to make 
good their assortments, as is also the case 
with hardware, and most articles of domestic 
manufacture, except the productions of the 
large mills, which have agents in the city for 
their special sale. 

It was formerly the custom for all parties, 
manufacturers, importers, jobbers, and houses 
jobl)ing in the small way, as well as retailers, 
to give long credits, six, eight, and twelve 
months, and the jobbers often sold for open 
notes, which were frequently renewed wholly 
or in part when they came due. The panic 
of 1857, and the hard times of 1861, put an 
end to most of this. Four months is now 
generally the longest limit, and many of the 
best houses sell only on thirty or sixty days 
time, or for cash only. Custom is now 
sought in the country by means of agents, 
instead of by the old system of drummers. 
Sellers depend largely upon the mercantile 
agencies for information in relation to the 



192 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TKADE. 



liability of the buyer. These agencies have 
r; mifications in every town of the country, 
but their usefulness is not what was at one 
time expected from them. The grocers 
who sell sugar, etc., do so generally at from 
ten to sixty days, and get their money before 
tlu! dry goods people, who also come after 
the hardware and earthenware deaif rs. The 
supply of capital in the city, under tliese 
circumstances, brings to it the largest assort- 
ment of goods, and of course it is llie best 
point at which to buy, the more so that at 
times there is an over supply of goods, whidf 
being wori<ed off at auction, reahzes a loss 
sometiine-i of 25 to 30 per cent, to the im- 
porler and ibreign owner, and of course to 
the advantage of the country buyer. Tlie 



general attractions offered to buyers make it 
to the advantage of sellers elsewhere to send 
their merchandise to New York to meet the 
purchasers. Boston made, recently, an at- 
tempt to break up this, by establishing .sales 
of her manufactures there, instead of sending 
them to New York. The force of centrali- 
zation is, however, difficult to overcome, and 
the imports at New York show an increas- 
ing share of the arrivals into the whole 
country. Thus, in 1870, New York im- 
ported $315,200,022 out of an aggregate of 
$402,377,587 ; in 1840, $00,0^0 000 out of 
an aggregate of $121,000,000. The propor- 
tionate imports at the Atlantic ports are as 
follows : — 



IMl-OItTS OF CEKT.VIN GOODS INTO TUE LEADING 

THE u 
Pliiladelpliia, 



GoUl Bullion 

*' coin 

Silver bullion 

" coin 

Coffee 

Tea 

Linseed 

Gnano 

Wool , raw and fleece . . 

Wo<j1, >hoddy, 

AVatc-lies 

Co il, Mtuminous 

Woolens 

Cotton hose, 

*' floods 

Steel, liar and inj;ot. . . 

Silks 

Linen 

Gloves 

Window glass 

Gunny liags and cloth. 
Iron, l>ar 

" I'i^; 

" railroad 

Cutlery and tiles 

Jute 

Leather 

Hides 

Molasses 

Sugar 

Other articles 



Boston. 

S1.3,Oi6 

20,876 

l,-)02 

5, .581 

1,210,044 

848.;369 

1,140,0'Jl 

2,303,687 



ATLANTIC PORTS, AND ALSO THE TOTAL IMrORTS INTO 
NION IN 1870. 

Baltimore. New Orleans, 



117,6.H 

222,848 

4,11.-!,1I7 

31,547 

775,6.-)l 

5 7 2, .338 

882,661 

1,704,048 

229,.580 

^32,938 

133,288 

1, 5.^)5,501 

326,835 

316,742 

114,208 

157,635 

19.173 

3,131,711 

1,912,447 

7,731,049 

1,867,308 



17,586 



193,761 
106 



35,342 
33,669 



332 

40,839 

21,648 

232,241 

330 

8,413 

15,434 

214,439 

221,709 

113,788 

15,671 

273 

8,534 

2,981,538 

5,556,549 

523,154 



6,409,818 
882 



618,422 
25,763 



12,311 



271,123 

100,411 
73,297 
41,967 

108,045 
61,868 
19,938 
14,038 
2,064 
7,155 
74,083 

292,623 
26,169 

17,083 

306,877 

782,566 

7,795,164 

301,221 



84,446 

500 

531,337 

2,283,647 

6,168 



5,003 



13,156 

1,164 

290,846 

61,690 

1,354,439 

15 233 

129,306 

340,097 

22,881 

34,002 

2,538 

73,777 

214,868 

2,099,567 

144,579 

4,078 

132,251 

1,721 

263,090 

1,787,0.30 

499,929 



New York. Tot 

92,159 

9,514,749 

40,636 

3,293,649 

12,578.223 

12,206,109 

2,886,860 

734,726 

3,497,254 

53,412 

2,8.30,692 

276,230 

28,569,889 

4,388,551 

15,849,392 

1,322,492 

22,168,766 

14,316.599 

3,059,987 

1,575,949 

133,961 

855,099 

874,267 

4,858.971 

1,824,016 

1,537,422 

5,458,624 

9,999,971 

4,635,966 

30,301,742 

9,041,854 



1 into Union. 

6^0,760 

11,376.190 

162.432 

14.199,797 

24,234,879 

13,863.273 

4,141,304 

1,415,519 

6,743,350 

55,609 

3,021,875 

1,110316 

34,435,059 

4,734,475 

18,645,578 

2,342,408 

23,904,04,8 

16.859,124 

3,405,9li6 

2,322,504 

291,218 

3,156,236 

2,509,280 

9,669,571 

2,248,819 

1,799,928 

5,728,028 

14,402,339 

12,888,250 

56,939,034 

15,583,831 



Total $31,731, 152S10,235,356S17,195,890 $10,367,943 $208,778,188 $311,871,006 



The aggregate imports at these five ports 
of these items are $278,308,529, which 
leaves $33,562,477 of these goods as the 



imports of all the other ports. The im- 
ports of coffee at New Orleans from Bra- 
zil, to go up the river, are large ; and at 



KEW YORK TELEGRAPH EXPRESS GOLD. 



193 



Boston, coffee and hides, from the same 
source, figure high. But botli Baltimore 
and Phihidelpliia receive much ooli'ce direct ; 
in fact, that is the largest item of import at 
those two cities. Boston imports many ma- 
terials for her manufocture — liiifced, wool, 
jute, liides, etc. Philadelphia also imports 
some of these. The great mass of the 
goods, for the con-umption of the interior, 
passes into the port of New York. It is to be 
borne in mind, however, that many of the 
importations at New York are really foi 
Philadelphia, Albany, and other cities, even 
western ones. They are entered at the 
custom-house by a broker, who pays the duty 
and forwards them by express to their desti- 
nation, for a small commission. The express, 
the rails, and the telegraph, facilitate such 
operations. 

The gold and silver imported at New York 
are from various sources, but in the last few- 
years have consisted mostly of doubloons and 
Spanish gold from Europe, to re-export to 
Havana for the purchase of the sugar crop. 
In 1857, that movement was very large, early 
in the year, to the island, and subsequently, 
when the stock of sugar accumulated very 
largely in New York, the gold came back from 
Havana to prevent it from being sacrificed. 
The bulk of the gold that forms the amount 
exported, is direct from California, and has 
been annually since the discover}-, in sums 
of nearly fifty millions. 

The gold extracted from the earth by the 
miners of California has a considerable degree 
of puritv, and before refining establishments 
were set up in the state, sold at from $16 to 
^•20 per ounce. Much was used as a currency. 
It was carried in little leather pouches, and 
weighed out to shopmen in exchange for 
goods. A large portion of it was carried to 
New York, in the pockets of home-bound 
adventurers, and sold in New York at such 
rates as were possible. The buyers mostly 
had it sent to Philadelphia, by express, at an 
expense of 3-8 per cent. It was then assayed 
and coined at the public mint, and the pro- 
ceeds returned to the owner. This expensive 
and round-about process led to the establish- 
ment of a mint in San Francisco and an assay 
office in New York, where the miners them- 
selves could deposit the dust and get the full 
value in return. When the dust is deposited, 
a certificate of weight is given and the gold 
in bars returned. There are a number of 
private assaying houses in San Francisco, 
where the dust is cast into bars of large size. 
12 * 



Most of these are connected with banking 
houses, and the bars are the basis of ex- 
change. The express companies deal in this 
gold. The miner now having a lot of dust, 
sells it to an express agent, or sends it down 
to a banker in San Francisco, who has it 
assayed and cast into bars. The value is 
credited to the depositor, less the commis- 
sions. The bars are mostly shipped to New 
York, and the bankers draw bills against 
them in favor of those who have remittances 
to make to the bank. The competition 
among the bankers reduces the rate at which 
these bills can be sold to a point that leaves 
apparently no profit, and it is charged in 
some cases that they draw at a loss, in the 
view of monopolizing the business. The re- 
fining leaves a small profit. The cost of 
shipping the gold to New York may be thus 
stated: freight, etc.. Si 57; state stamp on 
bill, 20 cents; insurance, $1 50 — making 
^3 2 7 on $100. But the insurer gets from 
the Mutual companies scrip, worth on an 
average 35 cts., which reduces the cost to 
$2 92. The bars sometimes command a 
higher price in New York than in San Fran- 
cisco. Thus, a bar of 100 ounces, 880 fine, 
is at this moment worth par in San Fran- 
cisco, and 900 fine it is worth 87^ cts. pre- 
mium in New York. This price has reference 
to the gold only of the bar. There is some 
silver in each. Thus, in the bar 880 fine 
there is 88 ounces of gold, \\\ of silver, and 
1-2 01. copper. In the other, 90 oz. gold, 9 
1-2 silver, and a half copper. This makes 
the gold worth 1 per cent, more in New York 
than in San Francisco, and reduces the cost 
of tlij bill to §1 92 per cent. It is evident 
that he who sells his bills at 2 per cent, 
makes but 8-10 of 1 per cent, or, including 
other items, a small loss. If the house feels 
strong enough to insure itself, it saves 
the insurance ; but this must be more or less 
a risk to those who take the bills. Thus 
the operation is one of mere cost of ship- 
ment of the gold ; but the control of so 
much gold on paper issued is an object with 
large firms. The higher value of gold at 
New York arises from the fact that it is the 
financial centre of the Union. The ex- 
changes of the country with Europe and 
with the interior of the states turn there. 
The south ships its cotton, and tobacco, and 
rice ; the west its produce ; and the At- 
lantic states their manufactures. These, as 
we have seen, give an aggregate value of over 
$300,000,000 sent abroad "in a year. The 



194 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



shippers of these goods draw bills against 
them, and oft'cr tlicm for sale. The market 
of sale nmst be ^vherc the greatest demand 
for them for remittance exists. New York 
imports two-thirds of all the goods received 
into the country, consequently tlie demand 
is there the greatest for the bills, and they are 
sent there for sale. It happens that tlie great 
majority of bill-drawers are unknown to the 
buyers, hence there is hesitation in taking 
their bills. To obviate this, a number of large 
banking-houses connected abroad, and having 
great capital, buy the bills that have " bills 
lading" attached, and the goods are sent to 
their correspondents abroad. In the seasons 
of the year when shipments are most active, 
these bills arc plenty and low. They are 
then purchased and endorsed, and sold with 
the endorsement at a higher rate when the 
season advances and the cotton-bills run 
short. If the demand is active, and the rate 
of money higher here than abroad, the bank- 
ers draw on their own resources, and lend 
them the proceeds of the bills they sell on 
stocks or other securities. They are also the 
buyers of the gold bars as they arrive from 
California, and pay such rates as the demand 
for exchange, or the rate of money, or the 
price of gold on the continent, present or 
prospective, will warrant. A demand for 
.silver to go to Asia, causes a demand for gold 
with which to buy it on the continent, and 
this demand draws upon New York, and in- 
directly upon the whole country. It is ob- 
vious that the bill business is thus mostly in 
the hands of large bankers. This grows out 
of the fact that there is abroad no market 
for bills on New York. Thus, the New York 
importer of goods, in order to pay for them, 
buys a bill on ships' specie, instead of order- 
ing his creditor abroad to draw upon him, 
which would be done if a bill on New York 
were saleable in the London market. It is 
understood, that when such amounts of bills 
from the south and elsewhere arc sent to 
New York for sale, the proceeds of those 
sales form a large fund due by New York to 
those sections. These funds are deposited 
in the New York banks, and by them cm- 
ployed in loans upon stocks, or in such other 
ways as will pay an interest. Thus the 
whole country contributes to the supplj- of 
capital at that comnmn centre. The New 
York banks, some iiftoen years since, in 
order to encourage that centralization, allow- 
ed interest of 4 per cent, on the funds so 
•deposited. This caused a greater sum to be 



so employed, and imposed on the banks the 
necessity of lending it, in order to make a 
profit. The amount of funds lying in New 
York varies from ^50,000,000 'to $90,000, 
000, according to the season of the year. The 
banks in all sections of the country that have 
such funds in New York do not draw against 
it directly in favor of those who want to re- 
mit to New York, but they use the funds to 
buy up their own or other paper cheap. 
The effect is to swell the supply of funds in 
New York, and at times foster speculation 
there. 

The funds that accumulate in New York, 
make it also the mart for stock operations ; 
and these are very large, as well for regular 
investments, as for merely gambling opera- 
tions. 

With the creation of any commodity 
whatever, there springs up almost simul- 
taneously a class of persons to deal in it, and 
to appropriate more or less capital to its 
prosecution. Tliis capital is most generally 
applied to the purchasing of it when it is 
thought to be cheap, in order to hold it un- 
til it can be disposed of to better advantage, 
or in advancing money to the needy seller. 
The persons so engaged, by devoting tlieir 
time and attention to the subject of their 
traffic, reduce it to science, and soon deter- 
mine and classify the kinds and qualities 
adapted to the markets and wants of the 
public. The dealing in stocks is compara- 
tively of modern origin, and commenced with 
the credit system of the European govern- 
ments, at the close of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, when William of Orange avoided the 
dangers that beset the throne of the Stuarts, 
by borrowing money instead of extorting it 
by illegal taxation like Charles I., or steal- 
ing it like Charles II. The moment that 
government stocks — or certificates of debt 
issued to the government creditors — made 
their appearance, they became subjects of 
traffic, and with the certificates of stock in 
corporate companies, formed the material for 
speculation, and the excjjange markets, 
where the surplus wealth of communities 
seek investment, became the theatre for 
operations in securities. The American 
colonics had no stock debts or corporate 
companies, since little surplus capital existed 
for such investments. The paper money 
that they issued, however, alforded by its 
fluctuation many opportunities of jobbing at 
the expense of the public. AVhen the revo- 
lutionary war broke out, the continental 



NEW VORK TELEGRAPH EXPRESS GOLD. 



190 



iiioue\- of tlie foJcral ifovernment gave a 
laro-er field fnr these operations, wlucli were 
b;ised mostly on tlio rapid depreciation of 
their vahie. Tluis, a person wouhl borrow a 
sum, returnable in the same description in a 
fixed time. Its value in that time having 
fallen, he could return it at a profit. Sup- 
posing the money to be par, a person would 
pledge a bag of $1,000 for paper ; a fall of 
eight or ten per cent, in sixty days wou'ld 
enable him to redeem life dollars v>ith $100 
profit. In the time of the revolution, a 
stage driver, having a talent that wa}', made 
money in the tratfic, and subsequently be- 
came the head of the largest bank and stock 
house of Ills time in New York, ending a 
long and respected life by suicide. Tins 
paper soon perished, and was succeeded by 
the government stock, representing tlie pub- 
lic debt. This was soon accompanied by 
United States and other bank stock, insu- 
rance, canal, mining, railroad, etc., to an 
immense amount. Up to 1S25 the majority 
of the stocks were banks and insurance, but 
there was no regular stock market. There 
were brokers who bought and sold stocks, 
but there was no concentration of operations. 
In that year the legislature of New York 
authorized the New York stock board, which 
has since continued to be the stock market. 
"Within the last twenty years, boards of bro- 
kers havi! been started in most of our large 
cities. Their operations are, however, to 
a very great extent, based upon those of 
New York, with which they communicate b}- 
telegraph. The board of brokers sits with 
closed doors from 10 1-2 A. M.^to 12 M. ; 
an irregular session is held about 2 1-2 P. M. 
There is a president, a treasurer, and a 
secretary ; the latter keeps a list of all the 
stocks dealt in in the market ; the members 
are admitted by ballot after notice of nomi- 
nation by one of the board. He must have 
been at least a j-ear a broker, and on his 
admission pays a fee of 8450. ^Vhen the 
members are assembled, the president pro- 
ceeds to call the list, and as each stock is 
named in succession, those who have orders 
to buy or sell make their offers, and the 
transactions are recorded, when they become 
binding upon the members. If any of these 
defaults he loses his seat until he can ])ay or 
arrange the claim. The theorj' of the board 
is that it is the reservoir where all stocks 
held b}- the public are brought for sale, and 
where all buyers come, through brokers, to 
purchase. The number of brokers is some 



850, and the commission charged is a quar- 
ter of one per cent., that is to say $25 on 
§10,000. The board requires each member 
to charge not less than a quarter, but as 
most of them sell again for their customers for 
nothing, the charge is practically one-eighth. 
The quantities of stocks to be dealt in 
have rapidly increased of late years. A 
late report of the Secretary of the Treasury 
gives an approximation of the amount of 
stocks now in the country ; to that return 
we have prefixed the amount of the same at 
a previous date : — 

1840. 1871. 

Tnitod Stntes stocks and bonds. $25,000,(100 §1,9.3.5,000,000 

State stocks 174,906,897 425,1.32.425 

113 dtifs'& towns' stk'a & b'ds. 13,107,000 312,000.0110 

3.50 counties' stoi-ks and bonds.. 1,600,000 125,000.n()o 

1715 national bank stocks 290,772,091 4.3li,478,.3n 

State Banks 92,000 000 

150 insurance stocks 40,101,000 100,000,000 

liailroad stocks 45,102,208 1.100,000,000 

" bonds 40.897.792 1,220.000,000 

15 canal and naTii;.atioa stocks.. 31,219,911 48.000.1(00 

" " lionds.. 19,'207.1IU 40,4Ofl,0ll0O 

45 mining and other co's stocks, . 10,1(11.201 18.t.O00.('00 

" " bonds.. 1,900,000 7,600,000 

8692,915,301 86,032,810,736 

This vast increase of stocks is manipulated 
mostly upon the New York stock board, ami 
the stocks are to a considerable exter.t 
caused to float by the sums sent to brokers 
by their correspondents in the country and 
neighboring cities, with which to " operate." 
The speculative transactions far exceed those 
of other kinds. The actual investments of 
capital are not large at the board. Those who 
take stocks for income do so of the issuers 
when tlie proposals are put out, and they 
hold them like the United States and state 
stocks, which rarely come on tlie stock ex- 
change. The mass of the transactions then 
are of non-dividend paying stocks, that are 
the foot-ball of speculation, and so pay the 
operators profits. The brokers are mostly 
cliques of operators, who, when the market 
is dull and prices are low, combine, as "bulls," 
to purchase, producing a rapid rise, in the 
hope, seldom disappointed, that the spec- 
ulative community will be tempted by that 
rise to come in and buy ; as they do so the 
brokers unload themselves upon the buyers, 
and then become " bears," combining to de- 
press the market, and to com]iel a fall at least 
equal to the rise, skinning the outsiders in 
the process. The speculators generally buy 
on time, that is, to pay for the stock at their 
option, any day within thirty or sixty, as the 
case may be. In this w.ay the buyer pajs 
interest on the purchases. He may also sell 
to deliver at any day he pleases within a 
specified time, or " seller's option," or to 



190 



LAND SETTLEMENT INTERNAL TRADE. 



deliver at the " buj-er's option ;" lie may 
borrow stock and sell it in the hope of buy- 
ing it back cheaper on delivery ; he may 
buy a privilege to deliver a stock at a certain 
price at a specified time, or not, as it suits 
Lim ; or he may sell or buy a privilege of 
taking and paying for a stock or n?t as it 
suits him ; he may buy ca*h stock and sell 
on time. To produce a fall, cliques will sell 
for cash all the stock they have or can bor- 
row, and then oft'cr time contracts without 
limit, until other holders are frightened and 
sell. Confederates keeping up a clamor to 
alarm the public at such times, all ofi'ers to 
buy are smothered, and orders to purchase 
are suppressed. On the other liand, a com- 
bination for a rise is accompanied by the 
most astonishing prophecies of a " good 
time." Considerable quantities are bought on 
time, the sellers hoping to get them cheaper. 
Meanwhile the cash stock is bought up and 
pledged for more money to repeat the opera- 
tion ; the demand for the stock bought on 
time runs up the rate, and the public are 
expected to come in with sufficient strength 
to let the clique all sell out at a profit, when 
they will be ready for a bear operation. 
There are numberless modes of varying and 
combining speculative operations, which 
would fill a volume. All those time operations 
were illegal until 1859, when they were all 
legalized, and a stock debt may now be col- 
lected like any other. 

The amount of the transactions is immense. 
In 1840, the aggregate of sales for themonth 
of June was $.3,684,460 ; of this one-half was 
bank stock and one-half Delaware and Hud- 
son canal. In June, 1857, previous to the 
panic, the sales reached #250,000,000, mostly 
railroad .'■tocks. In 1871 the sales for May 
were considerably over $600,000,000. lii 
a speculative year the stock transactions 
will run twenty-eight or thirry-ciglit thou- 
sand millions of dollars. Those trans- 
actions require a great deal of money to con- 
duct them, and those funds come to New 
York to a considerable extent from neigh- 
boring cities, as well as from the west. They 
also employ a large portion of the funds of 
the banks put out " at call," and also the 
proceeds of bills sold by large exchange 
Louses. Thus we may suppose a liouse soils 
on the departure of a steam-packet $500,- 
000 of sterling bills. This money is paid 
into bank, and is loaned out on stock secu- 
rities at 7 per cent, on call, until, by a suc- 
ceeding packet, it may be called in and re- 



mitted in gold to Europe. This operation, 
on a large scale, will induce the banks to 
call in their loans to protect their specie, 
and the value of money will rise in the 
market. The rule in stock speculation is 
loss, and the experience of the most fortu- 
nate dealers is that the interest and com- 
missions absorb the whole average profits. 
The funds sent to New York, therefore, for 
stock-dealing, only contribute to the central 
profits. • 

If we were to throw into a tabular form 
the new agencies of business centring in New 
York, we should have results as follows: — 

Coat. 

Ocean n.ivis.ition, 1.^ lines, 1.3.') ships, S9G,0(lO,n00 

Ti'lo<:r:i|ihs. 60,000 miles, 44,06.3,000 

Kxjircss companies... 112,000 " 4."),000,0ni) 

Riiilronds 30,000 " 1,128,00(1,000 

City railroads 55 •' 23,000.000 

Caiials 59,(100,000 

$1,395,063,000 

The number of strangers that are drawn 
to the city in a year by ocean steamers is 
nearly 300,000, and they fill the hotels that 
have of late taken such s()lendi(l proportions, 
and have been carried up to Thirty-first street 
and Broadway, a distance of three and a half 
miles from the old business centre. The 
march of hotels up-town has been steady. 
The Astor House was, in 1833, the up-town 
house. From the Astor House to Chambers 
street was a long remove, in 1840. In 1852 
the St. Nicholas advanced a mile to Spring 
street, and became not only the up-town, but 
the "upper-crust" of all hotels. In 1854, 
Niblo's Garden, on I'rincc street, was occu- 
pied by the Metropolitan; and, soon fol- 
lowing, the Everett House, taking ground a 
mile higher, opened on Sixteenth street ; and 
in 1859, superior in distance, size, majinifi- 
eenee. and expense, the Fif.h Avenue Hotel 
opened on 2'id street. The Southern, the 
Grand Central, the IIoflTman, the St. James, 
and a score of others have since been ailded, 
besides the family hotel.s, like the New York, 
St. Denis, Clarendon, St. Germain, Sping'er, 
Sturtevant, Prescott, etc. Extravagance 
is only an allurement. Indeed, the hotel- 
keepers seem to have followed the advice of 
Boyden, when he first gave popularity to 
the Astor. His cracker-baker complained 
that the waiters were inattentive: "Kill me 
two of them, and put it in your bill," he 
briskly replied. And to his partner, who 
spoke of tlie exactions of guests, he replied, 
" Furnish a gold-dust pudding, with diamond 



NEW TORK TELEGRAPH EXPRESS GOLD. 



197 



plums, if they require, but cliarrjc accord- 
ingly." That is the secret of hotel-keep- 
ing in New York — let nothing be wanting, 
not even a sufficient charge. Immense waste, 
no doubt, attends the system, but it attracts. 
The splendid arrangements tempt many city 
families to take up their abode in them; and 
a small family, oven at 83.50 per day per head, 
do better than to pay the extravagant rents 
demanded for fashionable houses, w ith the at- 
tendant expenses. That these things are not 
done cheaply, the bill of $91,000, presented 
to the city of New York by the Metropolitan 
Hotel for the entertainment of the Japiuiese 
ambassadors, is ample evidence. The nu- 
merous visitors to New York from the south 
and west, as well as the constant current of 
trailers, better class of emigrants, and Cali- 
forni.a passengers, till the hotels of the lower 
parts of the city; and the whole mass, by 
tlu'ir purchases for personal use, make an 
important part of the city retail trade, of 
wliirh Broadway is the main locality. The 
rri-ords of arrivals show the average number 
per day at all the hotels is not far from 
3,000. or the immense number of 81,095,000 
per annum. This, at an average of $3, cives 
S3,285,000 for hotel bills alone, but nil the 
expenses cannot be estimated under SI "2,000, 
000. The facilities of railroads and ferries 
also induce a great deal of trade from sur- 
rounding cities and towns within a reason- 
able distance. Within an area of fifty miles 
there are few who do not do their shopping 
in New York, and very many of the small 
local shops send dail}' messages to the city 
to complete orders they may have receiveil. 
On the other liand, a large quantity of manu- 
factures that were formerly confined to the 
city arc now sent long distances into the 
countr}-, particularly in the winter, where they 
are done cheaply liy those who are not de- 
pendent upon them for a living. The large 
circle of country thus loses its rural charac- 
ter, and partakes of the metropolitan nature. 
It follows that, as city localities become 
known for particular business, and visitors 
seek them to trade, all of that class of deal- 
ers seek business places there, and thus con- 
centrate the business. The fixed population 
of the city is given by the census at 942,338, 
and, with the neighborhood more or less 
connected, the wants of 3,000,000 require 
to be met from the retail stores of the cities, 
in addition to the crowds of visitors from 



abroad. Tlie retail trade is therefore a very 
important one, and its vigor, apart from the 
purchases of visitors, depends in some degree 
upon the cheapness of food. Where immi- 
gration has reached over 1,000 souls per 
day, composed of persons skilled in almost 
all employments, and all eager to obtain 
work, competing with those in the city who 
live by their occupation, and with those in 
the country, who are, so to speak, amateurs, 
it is evident the wages cannot bo extravagant, 
and the amount that can be spared from 
them, after deducting liousc-rent and food, 
is not much in the average. Food is, liow- 
ever, the important item. When that is 
cheap, trade is more active. An indication 
may be aft'orded in flour. The quantity used 
in New York is 2,400,000 bbls. per annum. 
In some years the price has been as low as 84, 
in others as high as 815. The ditfcrcnce be- 
tween these sums is 826,400,000 in one year. 
The tax, in years of dear food, thus thrown 
upon the city is enormous. It fortunately 
happens, that in years of dear food the food- 
sellers make more purchases. The influence 
of such times is very perceptible in the 
operations of the pawnbroker, whose bu?:i- 
ness it is to lend small sums on the pledge 
of almost, an}' conceivable article that may 
be oft'ered. They charge 24 per cent, per 
annum, and the article, unredeemed at the 
end of a 3-ear, becomes forfeit by sale at 
auction. The amount of loans in one year 
was given at 83,000,000, and the number of 
pledges 4,875,000, which would give an 
average of about C8 cents each loan. 

While cheap food is an important item in 
the ability to purchase, yet employment is 
the main consideration, and this depends 
upon the prosperity of those sources on 
which the city depends for its business. 
These in the long run are progressive, not- 
withstanding the reactions that sometimes 
take place, and the diffusion of employments 
which machine inventions tend to bring 
about. 

The general prosperity of the whole country 
does not, however, depend upon any locality : 
all production and all business is constantly 
seeking the conditions under which it can 
best thrive. These cannot be dictated; but, 
being found, the general welfare is as a con- 
sequence the greater, and with the general 
prosperity the common centre must only 
become the more magnificent. 



BANKS m THE UNITED STATES. 



CHAPTER I. 

BILLS OF CREDIT— fiOVRRNMKNT ISSUKS— 
UNITED STATES BANK. 

The iise of paper money is a modern in- 
vention, and may yet be considered Imt as 
an experiment, since, from its first emission 
in the colonies to the present day, paper 
money has constantly chantfed its form and 
the conditions of its eircnlation. It is not to 
be inferred that paper money originated on 
this continent, since it was used long before 
in the countries of Europe. Its nature has, 
however, been more developed here, and 
every phase of it has had full scope of action. 
iThe circulating paper is of many forms, such 
as bills of exchange, promissory notes, gov- 
ernment bonds bearing interest, government 
bonds bearing no interest and not converti- 
ble into coin, but receivable for taxes and 
dues, and lastly, corporation or bank prom- 
ises to pay coin on demand. There are many 
other descriptions of circulating paper, but 
these are the chief that are used. The last 
two are those which have figured most as 
money. The intention of paper money is to 
supply the place of coin where that article is 
not sutficiently abundant, as was eminently 
the case with the early colonies. The colo- 
nies were none of them rich, and had not 
been able to import and keep as much of the 
precious metals as would serve for a currcncv, 
that being as much an instrument of com- 
merce as a road or a ship. In substituting 
paper for coin there is no difficulty as long 
as the quantity emitted does not exceed the 
demands of business for a currency. If there is 
no trade — that is, if no one wants to exchange 
Ilia commodities for others — there is no want 
of currency. As the desire to trade increases, 
a want of money to represent commodities 
is experienced, and the want is proportioned 
to the numbers, wealth, and activity of the 
traders up to a certain point; because when 
trade is very active, money itself changes 
liands rapidly and performs more transfers 



than when it is sluggish. There must be, 
however, great confidence in the value of the 
money, because doubt in that respect in- 
stantly checks tratlic. The earlj' colonists 
were in that position. They had commodi- 
ties wiiich they had raised and made, but 
they had no currency, or not enough. In 
this position, in 1690, it became necessary for 
Massachusetts to send a military expedition 
to Quebec to drive the French out of Canada. 
The expedition failed, and the troops came 
back clamorous for pay. The colony had no 
money to pay with, and it adopted the expe- 
dient of issuing promises in convenient 
amounts. The faith of the colony was 
pledged for the payment of these, and they 
would be received for taxes and dues. It 
will bo observed, that these bore no interest, 
and were not convertible into coin. Thcj 
were, in fact, mere orders of the government 
upon farmers and others for food, clothing, 
etc., in favor of the soldiers, to be called in 
by taxes, not to be paid in money. The 
paper was worth nothing to export. Its only 
value consisted in its being good to pay taxes 
with. It is at once obvious that no man 
wanted more than would suflice for that pur- 
pose. Tlie aggregate amount that could be 
issued was then measured by the sum of the 
taxes. In order to increase the amount, the 
colonial government made it a legal tender, 
that is, compelled creditors to take it for pri- 
vate debts. This was so palpablv unjust, and 
was productive of so many evils, that the 
home government suppressed it. Neverthe- 
less, the same necessities produced similar 
devices, and other colonies followed the ex- 
ample of Miissachusetts with similar results. 
In 1745, Massachusetts, to defray the ex- 
pense of an expedition to Louisburg, again 
issued bills of credit to the extent of 
£3,000,000. This paper speedily deprecia- 
ted to 11 for 1: that is, £1 in silver was 
worth £11 in those bills. The English gov- 
ernment then sent out £180,000 in silver, to 
pay the cost of the expedition, and with this 



BILLS or CREDIT GOVERNMENT ISSUES UNITED STATES BANK. 



199 



the thrifty colon}- boiicfht up its o\vn paper 
it 11 for 1. New York, during the period 
17U9 to 178G, made thirty-four issues of bills 
of credit, amounting in the aggregate to 
£1,563,407, and the depreciation was about 
2 to 1 ; in other colonies much more. The 
e\ ils attending these issues were verj' great, 
but the cause continued to operate, and when 
the war broke out in 1775, the Congress of 
the Confederation was forced upon the issue 
of s:},000,000 worth of "continental money," 
as distinguished from the state issues; and 
to give these issues some firmness, they made 
them a legal tender. This supply of paper, 
in addition to the colonial emissions, in- 
creased the difficulties, and some of the colo- 
nies went a step further and made personal 
property a legal tender, according to apprais- 
als to be made for the puipose. Notwith- 
standing the general discredit, Congress was 
obliged to push the issues. In 1779 the 
iamount outstanding was 8100,000,000, and 
by 1780 it reached $200,000,000, when the 
value fell so fast tliat before the end of the 
year the bills ceased to circulate. There are 
those still living who remember giving §100 
for "a cake of gingerbread," or ^10,000 for 
a hat cocked in the fashion of the day. 
The whole amount issued by Congress was 
$359,456,000, and on the formation of the 
new government they were purchased at the 
rate of 1 cent for $1. The state issues met 
with similar fate. The entire absence of 
money thus brought about, with the attend- 
ant evils, mainly induced the adoption of the 
federal constitution, which at once prohib- 
ited the states from over again issuing "bills 
of credit," or making "any thing but gold 
and silver a tender for the payment of debts." 
That is, those prohibitions are a record of 
the experience derived from the colonial ex- 
periments in paper money. 

The condemnation of "bills of credit" was 
a great good. The important question was, 
however, what to do next ; and this engaged 
all minds. Specie had vanished, and govern- 
ment paper money was dead. Mercantile 
sagacity liad, however, on the death of the 
continental money, devised a partial remedy 
in 1781. This consisted of the substitution 
of private corporate credit in place of gov- 
ernment credit, and took shape in the char- 
tering of the Bank of North America, at 
Philadelphia; the Bank of New York, in 
the city of New York ; and the Bank of Mas- 
sachusetts, in Boston. 

It is an erroneous idea, that was enter- 



tained for a long time, that banks, by the 
issues of credit, create capital, and on this 
idea many new banks were started, impart- 
ing much activity to trade. The good 
efl'ects of their operation were due, however, 
rather to the concentration and application 
of capital to mercantile uses, than to an in- 
crease in the quantity of capital. Before the 
establishment of banks, individuals kept the 
money they received in their own houses, 
tempting robberies, and subjecting them- 
selves to loss of interest, and to risk and 
trouble in seeking small investments. The 
shopkeeper and merchant who received 
money in the course of business in small 
sums, kept it by him until ho made his 
wholesale purchases, when ho paid it out 
altogether. The aggregate sum thus lying 
entirely idle was very large. On the estab- 
lishment of a bank, the owners of money 
deposited it in the vaults. The institution 
thus became the common receptacle for all 
idle funds. Inasmuch as that, although all 
the depositors were entitled to draw their 
money whenever they chose, yet but a small 
proportion did so, the banks might safely 
lend the money so deposited on notes at 
short dates, sixty to ninety days, and still 
have as much within their control as would 
meet the probable demand of the depositors 
for payment. It was necessary, however, 
that the notes discounted should be prompt- 
ly paid at maturity, in order that the bank, 
itself subject to be called upon to pay on 
demand, might have control of the means of 
payment. The discount of mercantile notes 
with two good endorsers then became the 
business of lianks ; and wo may here remark 
in passing, that this wrought a change in the 
mode of borrowing money in the communi- 
ty. Up to that period, good character, in- 
dustrv, and sobriety were security for loans. 
An illustration of this is afforded in a be- 
quest of Dr. Franklin in trust to the city 
(then town) of Boston, of a sum of money 
from which young mechanics of the above 
characteristics were to be loaned two hun- 
dred dollars to start them in business. They 
were -to repay the money with interest, and 
the sum, with its accumulation, w»3 to con- 
tinue a fund for the same purpose. The 
fund still continues to exist, but without 
accumulation. Under the newly established 
banking system, character was no longer an 
clement of credit. A note with two good 
names became indispensable. The capitals 
of the banks were seldom paid in loanable 



200 



BANKS IN THE UNITED STATES. 



money. They were notes of tlic subscriber, 
or real estate, and were mostly designed to 
inspire confidence. A portion of it was req- 
uisite to be kept on hand in specie to meet 
the calls of depositors and note-holders. 
The banks, in order to increase their loan- 
able funds, were permitted to issue their own 
promises to pay specie on demand, these 
promises to circulate as money. The old 
colonial issues of credit bills did not pretend 
to be payable on demand, and the applica- 
tion of that principle, it was now supposed, 
would obviate the evils that had grown out 
of the old system. The bills were freely 
taken and circulated. The institutions were 
not limited in the amount that they luigh.t 
issue, and they increased the currency al- 
most at pleasure. It became obvious, how- 
ever, that if one bank issued a larger quan- 
tity in proportion than the other banks, its 
notes, paid into the rival institutions, would 
immediately be sent back to it for redemp- 
tion, and it would have to pay in specie the 
balance above what it held of their notes. 
Hence the laws of trade compelled each 
bank to keep its credits within a safe ratio 
to those of other institutions. This, how- 
ever, did not prevent all from increasing 
their issues to any extent as long as their 
mutual balances were adjusted. When, 
however, the whol,c of them increased their 
circulation, the mass of currency became 
cheap, a fact which manifests itself in a rise in 
prices of all commodities. The effect of this 
is, that the produce of the country ceases to 
be exported, because it is too high to pay a 
profit to the merchant, while, on the other 
hand, goods are imported to avail of the high 
prices. This state of affairs involves an ex- 
port of specie, which drains the banks, and 
forces back upon them their bills for re- 
demption. Hence, if the banks regulate 
each other by their balances, the foreign 
trade becomes the common regulator of all. 
Kept within a certain limit, governed by 
produce and business, the bank circulation 
is useful. Although it does not in any de- 
gree create capital, it supplies the place of 
the precious metals as currency. If wo sup- 
pose a miller wishes to purchase grain ; he 
gets a note or acceptance at sixty days, on 
New York, discounted at a local bank, 
which pays out to him circulating notes. 
With these he purchases wheat of the farmer, 
flours it, and forwards it to New York for 
sale, and tlie proceeds are applied to the 
taking up of his draft that the bank had dis- 



counted. In the mean time the farmer has 
paid awa}' the notes he took for his wheat, 
probably to the storekeeper in discharge of 
his bill. The storekeeper has now to remit 
to New York to pay a note that falls due for 
merchandise previously purchased, and fur- 
nished to the farmer. To do so he goes to 
the bank, and buys of it the draft on New 
York that the institution had discounted for 
the miller. This he remits to his merchant, 
who gets it paid from the proceeds of the 
flour. The transaction is thus closed, and 
by it farm produce has been got to market, 
and merchandise, in return, has passed from 
the manufacturer to the consumer, ctl'ecting 
an exchange of commodities without the use 
of any money at all. The notes that the 
bank put out on a draft, after performing 
the functions fif money, returned to it in ex- 
change f.>r the draft, and all obligations 
were cancelled. This is the operation of 
paper when confined to actual business 
ti'ansactions. The number and kinds of 
these are almost infinite, but the principle is 
the same when the paper is only issued on 
actual commodities, the exchange of which 
cancels the obligations that grow out of 
them. There is, in this, no creation of capi- 
tal, only the facilitating the exchange of that 
already created. Under such circumstances, 
the quantity of currency rises and falls with 
the quantities of produce and merchandise. 
The moment the bank lends its notes to 
speculative operators, who seek to borrow 
capital itself, rather than credits with which 
to interchange capital, it becomes insolvent, 
because it lends what it has not got to spare. 
The early banks mostly confined themselves 
to sound rules, and with the rapid increase 
of business which followed the formation of 
the new government, their business being 
profitable, stimulated the increase of institu- 
tions, mostly in New England, where com- 
merce was concentrated. The three origi- 
nal state banks were eminently success- 
ful, and they suggested a resource to the 
federal government. This was developed 
in the celebrated report of Alexander Ham- 
ilton, Secretary of the Treasury, in favor of 
a National Bank. The proposition at once 
called up the right of Congress to charter a 
bank under the constitution. After a warm 
congressional debate upon the subject, I'resi- 
dent Washington demanded written opinions 
of his four cabinet officers. The Attorney 
General and the Secretary of State declared 
the bank unconstitutional. The Secretary 



BILLS OF Cr.EDIT GOVERNMENT ISSUES UNITED STATES BANK. 



201 



of War and the Secretary of the Treasury 
•were of a contrary opinion, and the celebra- 
ted paper of the latter upon (he subject de- 
cided Washington, who signed the bill, and 
the bank went into operation -Hith a capital 
of 810,000,000, of ^vhich $J,000,000 was sub- 
scribed by the government, and §8,000,000 
by individuals. Of this latter amount, 
1:^,000,000 was to be paid in specie and 
?!0,000,000 in six per cent, stock of the 
United States. The charter was to continue 
until March 4, 1811. Immediately on the 
organization of the bank, the shares rose 25 
to 45 per cent, premium, and the institution 
paid 8 1-2 per cent, dividend. The creation 
of this bank was attended by the rapid mul- 
tiplication of banks in the various states, be- 
coming rivals to each other, and gradually 
consolidating an interest which was strong 
enough in 1811, with other interests, to defeat 
the recharter of the Bank of the United 
States. The recharter was opposed on the 
grounds: 1st, that it was unconstitutional; 
2d, that too much of its stock was owned by 
foreigners ; 3d, that state hanks were better. 
It is singular that at a time wlicn capital 
was scarce in the country, objections should 
have been made to its coming in from abroad. 
Nevertheless, the bank was closed, and on 
settlement paid $108 1-2 to each share of 
$100. From that d.ate, gold and silver only 
were by law receivable for government dues. 
The winding up of the National Bank was the 
signal for creating state banks to fill the 
vacuum. The old bank and its business was 
purchased by Stephen Girard, who conducted 
with it a large private banking business w itli 
great success on a capital of §1,000,000. In 
four years, to 1815, 120 banks, with an ag- 
gregate capital of §40,000,000, went into 
operation. Pennsylvania alone, by act of 
March 21, 1814, created 41 banks. The 
amount of notes emitted by these institutions 
was never known with certainty, but was es- 
timated by Mr. Jefferson, in 1814, as high as 
$200,000,000. A large portion of these, in 
the middle states, were issued as loans to the 
government ; and tlie war pressure became 
such, that in September, 1814, all the banks 
out of New England stopped payment. The 
bills immediately depreciated 20 per cent, 
in Baltimore, and 15 per cent, in New York. 
The news of peace, in February 1815, caused 
some improvement, but in 1816 the difficul- 
ties were greater than ever. The discount 
in Baltimore was 20 per cent., Philadelphia 
17, New York 12 1-2. This kind of paper 



being the only currency, the government was 
compelled to take it for dues, in violation of 
law. This caused the greatest injustice, since 
the funds received in one place were more 
depreciated than in another, and New Eng- 
land, where the currency was sound, had 
great cause of complaint. In such a state of 
atlairs, although the state banks had multi- 
plied to 24G, with $89,822,422 capital, anew 
National Bank became inevitable, and Con- 
gress, by act of April, 1816, again chartered 
a National Bank, which went into operation 
January 1817. Its charter was to last until 
March 4, 183G; its capital was $35,000,000, 
of which the United States subscribed 
87,000,000 in a 5 per cent, stock, and the 
remaining $28,000,000 was to be subscribed 
by individuals — one-fourth in gold and silver 
and three-fourths in the funded debt of the 
United States. The debts of the bank, in 
excess of its deposits, were not to exceed 
$35,000,000. The bank was to pay a bonus 
of $1,500,000, and perform the money busi- 
ness of the government free of charge. In 
return it received the public funds on deposit, 
and nothing was to be taken for public dues 
except specie, treasury notes, notes of specie 
paying banks, and the National Bank notes. 
When the bank went into operation it became 
necessary for the state banks to resume or 
wind up. Those of New York, Philadelphia, 
Baltimore, and Virginia resumed, and those 
which did not were gradually purged off. 
From 1 81 1 to 1 830, 1 65 banks, with a cipital 
of $30,000,000, closed business. The loss 
of the trovernment by these was estimated at 
$1,390,707, and the public lost much larger 
sums. The bank, in the first few years of 
its operation, encountered manv perils, grow- 
ing out of the foreign trade. Imports poured 
into the country in prodigious amounts, and 
an active demand for silver sprung up for 
Europe and Asia. The institution had, how- 
ever, in the public .stock and in its own stock, 
forming its capital, the means of drawing 
specie from Europe, which it did to an ex- 
tent that subjected it to a loss of over half a 
million dollars. 

The institution was of much service to 
the government, and enjoyed great facilities 
from the use of the public funds. The prin- 
cipal bank was at I'hiladelphia, with branches 
in most of the large cities. This organiza- 
tion of the bank made it very powerful as a 
means of exchange, and this power was likely 
to grow with the increasing .wealth of the 
country, up to the time when railroads and 



202 



BANKS IN THE UNITED STATES. 



telegraphs made communication more rapid. 
The power of the bank was based upon the 
federal finances, of whicli it was the agent, 
and it operated through the growing busi- 
ness of the country, which was conducted 
largely upon the credit system. As the 
country increased in prosperity, other banks, 
under state charters, sprung up, and these 
became the recipients of mercantile deposits, 
or, in other words, of the money which each 
merchant received in the course of his busi- 
ness, and also of private funds. The mer- 
chants who thus placed their funds with the 
banks were constantly debtors of the govern- 
ment for duties and taxes ; these they paid 
by checks on their respective banks. The 
I'nited States Bank, being the common re- 
cipient of all these checks, was thus always 
the creditor of the local banks, and could 
always force them to contract their loans by 
compelling them to pay, or could permit 
them to increase their loans by being indul- 
gent in regard to balances. The govern- 
ment funds thus collected by the United 
States Bank were paid out by it wherever 
the government required. Tlius the Boston 
and New York branches would collect the 
largest amounts, but the branches in Rich- 
mond and elsewhere, or the parent bank in 
Philadelphia, would pay the drafts of the 
government. In the first year of the old 
bank it received $3,'652,000 of the pub- 
lic money. As business prospered, the 
amount rose annually, until it reached 
$17,038,859 in 1808, before the embargo. 
Thus the receipts and payments on govern- 
ment account were thirty-four millions in a 
year, when the wliole population was 
5,200,000 souls. The new bank in 1817 re- 
ceived ^32, 786,002 for accounts of the gov- 
ernment. The sum declined year by j^cir 
to $21,347,000 in the year of crisis, 1825, 
and subsequently continued at about twenty- 
four millions per annum, until 1833, when 
the deposits were removed by the govern- 
ment. These large sums annually flowed in 
and flowed out of the bank on account of 
the government, and a large proportion of 
the payments were on account of the public 
debt. This reached §127,334,934 in 1810, 
and was by annual payments extinguished 
in 1835, a period of nineteen years; the 
average amount paid oft' annually by the 
government was thus §0,700,000. The 
government bank, being furnished with such 
machinery, «as necessarily the best medium 
of collecting bills ; thus the New York mer- 



chants, as an instance, sold their goods to 
the shopkeepers all over the Union, and 
they took notes payable at the local banks. 
The credits thus granted could be collected 
by the United States Bank clicaper than by 
any other bank. Hence, in New York, the 
" branch" would be the receptacle for 
accounts to be collected in all other cities ; 
the bank would forward these to its appro- 
priate branch, say Richmond ; the branch 
there would notify the local merchants of 
the notes it held against them ; these would 
p.ay in checks upon the local banks wliere 
they kept their deposits, and all these cliecks 
Collected by the United States brancli would 
make it the common creditor of all the local 
banks, whose specie it thus controlled ; it 
would notify the New York branch of what 
collections liad been made, and these would 
credit the mercantile owners with the 
amounts. The power of the bank from this 
source, operating through all its branches, 
was much greater than from the use of the 
government funds, and the state banks com- 
plained loudly of the tyranny that they 
alleged it exerted over them. A stormy 
opposition was thus formed against it, while, 
on the other hand, a generation of merchants 
had grown up under its administration of the 
exchanges, and they feared the results of a 
change. Meanwhile, the question became 
political, and a great party, as early as 1829, 
gave indication that the rceharter in 1836 
would not be granted. A struggle between 
the bank and the government ensued, and 
in 1833 the President removed the public 
deposits from the bank and placed them 
with numerous state bank.s. These ran a 
race of expansion with the United States 
Bank; the consequence was an immense spec- 
ulation, which resulted in general bankruptcy 
in 1837. The government, on removing the 
deposits to the state banks, enjoined them 
to be liberal to the merchants. This was 
done in tlio view of counteracting the strin- 
gency which the closing up of the United 
States Bank was expected to cause. This 
did not occur, however, since that institu- 
tion also was liberal with its loans. A rapid 
expansion resulted from this rivalry, and 
specul.ation ran wild, paiticularly in public 
lands. In the midst of this excitement, the 
government issued the famous " specie cir- 
cular," by wliich the lands were to he sold 
for cash, gold and silver only. The efl'eet of 
this would be cither to kill the speculation 
or to drain all the specie into tlie land oflSccs; 



BILLS OF CREDIT GOVERNMENT ISSUES UNITED STATES BANK. 



203 



it did the former. This was followed by a 
resolution of the Bank of England to cut 
off credits to American merchants, and the 
revulsion was precipitated. The charter of 
the United States Bank was not renewed by 
Congress, but the same institution obtained 
a charter from the State of Pennsylvania, 
February 18, 1836, under the name of the 
United States Bank of Philadelphia. The 
terms of this charter were very onerous, such 
as no institution could pay from profits ; the 
bank consequently failed, in common with 
all others in the Union, in 1837. It resumed 
its payments, following those of New York, 
January, 1830, and struggled on until Octo- 
ber 1839, when it finally failed. On 
going into liquidation, it was found that 
more than the whole of its large capital, 
635,000,000, had been swallowed up, sub- 
jecting the stockholders to a total loss. This 
disaster was no doubt brought about by its 
abandonment of sound principles in the vain 
hope of compelling the government to re- 
charter it. But the institution had outlived 
its usefulness ; the country had outgrown 
the circumstances for which such a bank 
was fitted. We have thus sketched the 
outline of that bank before glancing at the 
progress of the state institutions, because, 
up to 1840, that bank was the controlling 
power. The progress of banking among the 
states has been step by step with the grow- 
ing wealth, population, and commerce of the 
country. This growth was manifestly too 
vigorous to permit of the continued existence 
of any regulating power. 

The relative growth of the state banks, 
and the business of the country proportional 
to the national bank, was as follows : — 



No. 

1791, 3 

1811, 89 

1817, 246 

18.S7, 634 

1860, 1,562 



State bnnks. 

I apitui, 

2,000,000 

52,601,001 

89,822,422 

290,772,091 

421,880,095 



Nation.ll b,ank. 
C;tpital. 
10,000,000 
10,000,000 
35,000,000 
35,000,000 



Thus the national bank, which began 
with a capital five times as large as all the 
state banks, was only one-fifth of their 
aggregate in 1811. In 1817 the state capi- 
tal was two and a half times the new Na- 
tional Bank capital, and in 1836 it was eight 
times that capital. Had it then been re- 
chartered, with the same amount, it would 
now have lieen but one-twelfth of the capital 
of the state banks. 



CHAPTER II. 

STATE BANKS— SUFFOLK SYSTEM-SAFETY 
FUNDS— FREE BANKS. 

The growth of state banks has fluctuated 
from time to time, under different circum- 
stances of local trade, and the general nature 
of banks has changed in obedience to similar 
conditions. The nature of the banking sys- 
tems of each locality has, however, under- 
gone repeated modifications, and the general 
tendency is to the circulation of less paper. 
We .shall endeavor to give a sketch of each. 
The first attempt at banking in New Ensiland 
was the creation of a land bank in 1740. 
At that time about eight hundred persons 
subscribed a capital in real estate, and hav- 
ing appointed ten directors, agreed to issue 
one hundred and tifty thousand pounds in 
paper, to circulate as money. Tiiis was dis- 
solved by Parliament, and the stockholders 
held individually liable for the bills. In 
1784 a bank was chartered by the Massachu- 
setts Legislature, and the other New England 
states followed the example from time to 
time. In 1805 there were in existence 
forty-seven banks in the six New England 
states, with an aggregate capital of §13,- 
353,000. In 1815," at die close of the war, 
these had risen to sixty-three banks, and 
819,053,902 of capital, and the circulation 
had become large. In 1860 the number of 
banks in those states had risen to five hun- 
dred and five, with a capital of S9ij,l 86,990. 
In the course of tliis increase, the .system of 
banking there had undergone less' chann-es 
than in other states- 

The paper currency of New Enifland was 
generally of small denominations, and emit- 
ted by a larger number of banks with small 
capitals than that of most other sections. 
These institutions were scattered over the 
six New England states, and the bills of 
each bank forming the currency of its neigh- 
borhood, would, in the course "of trade, ulti- 
mately find their way to Boston, the com- 
mon centre of business. There being no 
provision for their redemption, they cii'cu- 
lated at a discount, and this discount was 
increased in proportion to the issues of each 
bank, inflicting lo.ss ufion the community. 
To remedy this, the Sufl'olk Bank of Boston, 
in 1825, undertook to receive all the bills 
and send them home by an agent to the 
issuing bank, requiring each to redeem in 



204 



BANKS IN THE UNITED STATES. 



specie at its own counter. Thi.s compelled 
eacli banlc to keep a large amount of specie 
on liand, at an expense which ate up the 
profits of the circulation. They all agreed, 
in consequence, to keep at the Suffolk about 
three thousand dollars deposited, to redeem 
any balance of notes that might be there 
found against them. To keep down that 
balance each was then compelled to restrict 
its circulation to the actual business wants 
of its locality, that there might be no surplus 
currency ; in other words, tliat the course 
of trade might carry to Boston no more of 
its bills than would be paid by the produce 
of the localit}' sent thither for sale, and also 
to send promptly to the Suffolk any bills of 
other banks that might come into its hands, 
as an offset to its own balances. Thus all 
the banks in New England were actively en- 
gaged in running each other, and five hun- 
dred streams ]ioured country money daily 
into the Suffolk receptacle, to be assorted 
and sent back to the issuers. This kept down 
the volume of the currency in that section. 
After the creation of railroads and tele- 
graphs, the ditliculty of keeping out an excess 
of circulation was greater. To be '' thrown 
out of the Su'folk," or, in other words, not 
be able to meet a balance there, was fatal 
to the reputation of a bank. The system 
worked well up to the civil war. It was 
the case, however, that although those insti- 
tutions could not put out an excessive cir- 
culation in New England, many of them 
lent their notes on securities, on condition 
that the notes should be ]iaid out at the far 
west, whence they would be very slow in re- 
turning for redemption. The Suffolk mode 
of regulation by the laws of trade was, upon 
the whole, very successfiil. 

In New York the same evils manifested them- 
selves as in New England, and in 18-29 a rem- 
edy was attempted in the shape of the " safety 
fund." This did not undertake to restrain the 
issues of the banks, but to protect the public 
from loss by failure. Under it all the banks 
doing business in the state were required to 
contribute one-half of one per cent of their 
aggregate circulation to a fund to be called 
the " Safety Fund," out of which the notes 
of a broken bank were to be paid in full. 
This worked very well during a number of 
years of prosperity, but in the revulsion of 
1837 a number of banks failed under disas- 
trous circumstances, and the fund was found 
to be entirely insufticient — besides being 
wrong in principle, since it called upon the 



honest and well-conducted hanks to pay the 
debts of the dishonest ones. It is hardly 
worth while, in a short history like this, to 
enumerate all the restrictions as to discounts, 
specie on hand, and emission of bills, that 
the various states have incorporated in bank 
laws. It may suffice to say, that all are 
powerless to prevent evil. On the failure of 
the safety fund system of New York, how- 
ever, a radical change took place in the policy 
in regard to banks. The privilege of issuing 
notes to circulate as money at their own will 
and pleasure, had been found to be danger- 
ous to the public, and the law of April, 1 838, 
called the " free banking law," was passed, 
by which the power to issue bills directly 
was taken from the banks. Under that law, 
the Comptroller of the state prepared the 
plates, and delivered the bills to the banks, 
upon their lodging with him such securities, 
mostly state stocks, as amply secured the re- 
demption of the bills. The name, " free 
banking," was given to the law, because it re- 
moved from the banks the restrictions rela- 
tive to discounts, and the necessity for a char- 
ter. This law was altered in some respects 
almost every year of its existence, but its 
main features remained the same, and it be- 
came in New York the sole law to regulate 
banking. All the old banks, as their charters 
expired, reorganized under it, since the state 
constitution provided that no new charters 
could be granted or old ones renewed. The 
VForking of this law was so efficient and pop- 
ular, that it spread into most of the northern 
and western states. The progress of bank- 
ing in New York has been as follows : 

NUMBER OF BANKS AND AGGREGATE CAPITAL. 





No 


Capita!. 




ISOl, 


5 


4.720,000 




1811, 


8 


7,522,760 


Expiration of first tJ, S. bank. 


1316, 


27 


18,706,756 


Kecharter U. S. banlt. 


1831), 


86 


31,281,461 


Ciiarter U. S. Bk expired ; supp 


1S.S8, 


94 


3i;,401,460 


Free banking law ; resumption. 


185;, 


2^4 


107,449,143 


Suspenion. 


I860, 


3 '3 


111,441,.370 


Recovery - 


1861, 


302 


109,982,324 


AVar commenced. 


1863. 


809 


109,258,147 


Organization of Nat. banlu. 



The New York law requires the banks to 
issue the bills at the place of their location, 
and to redeem them at not more than one- 
half per cent, discount in the city of New 
York. These institutions, liowever, have an 
arrangement with the Metropolitan Bank, in 
New York, by which they are redeemed at 
a less rate. 

Pennsylvania, in the early part of the cen- 
tury, was slow to create banks, and it had 
but three up to 1814, in which year 41 new 



STATE BANKS SUFFOLK SYSTEM SAFETY FUNDS FREE BANKS. 



205 





Jo 


Capital. 


1801, 


■A 


5,i>X),0(XI 


ISIl, 


4 


6,1.>3,0'») 


1SI5, 


4'J 


l."i,0 -.-i.ooo 


IS-iil, 


Si 


i»,i;si,i)i() 


ISSii, 


41) 


23, 15 i,:S3S 


l&ii), 


4H 


2.5,2.V,,,-S3 


1S59, 


S7 


21,r)i.-,,SI|-j 


ISlll, 


«i) 


2J,S4:i2l5 


l8tJ3, 


ai 


2U,561,3J7 



bunks were incorporated. Siibsequent'y, it 
created numbers, and has probibly MiHered 
more than any other state from its abused 
bank credits. The progress of affairs there 
was as foUaws, exchisive of the United States 
Bank, which was situated at Pliiiadelphia: — 



Expiration of U. S. bank. 
Lo\vcr«dit ; 41 new banlts. 
Twenty-two banl^s failed. 
State oliarter U. S. bit ; susp. 
Itesuniption. 

Recovery from panic of 1867. 
AVar commenced. 
Orj^anizatiou Nat. banks. 

1 Tliere was, up to 18.'50, a great number of 
unauthorized l>anks iloing business in Penn- 
sylvania, and I hey presented a constant suc- 
cession ot bankruptcies. The authorized 
icapilal down to the present time lias not kept 
pace with that of other states, taking the 
wealth and population of Pennsylvania into 
consideration. 

Mar^and chartered its first bank in 1790, 
ithe Banlt of Maryland, capital $.JiiO,ii()0, and 
continued to increase tliein moderately up to 
the present time. The progress of capital 
Ithere has been as follows : — 





No. 


Capit,al. 




1801, 


2 


Sl.iioii.ono 




ISII, 


6 


4,8-i."),402 


U. S. Bank expired 


1814, 


17 


7,8-2,000 


Banks suspended. 


18211, 


14 


6,708,180 




1 8.! 7, 


21 


10.438,6.'>.'j 


Suspension. 


18.-.9, 


32 


12..')60,635 




1862, 


33 


12,.'iO.),5.'>9 


War in progress. 



New Jersey has been influenced to some 
exlentTii her b inking operations, by the slate 
iif tilings in New York and Penn.sylvania, 
and in 18.50 it adopted the general iianking 
law of New York. Its progress has been as 
follows : — 

No. Capital. 

180.1, 2 Sl.OOO.OOO 

1811, 3 789,740 IT. S. B.ink expired. 

1815, II 2,121.9.33 Suspension. 

1-20, 14 2,1,!0,949 

1837, 2.i 3.9711.090 Suspension. 

1830, 24 3. .56.5 283 Free law. 

185.5, 32 5,314, S85 

1857, 48 7,494,ei2 Suspension. 

1859, 45 7,331., 122 

1802, 51 7,933, 9J3 War in progress. 

The multiplication of banks in New Jersey 
under the new law, was mostly for the benefit 
of circulating their issues in New Y'ork at a 
di.^count, and they were of but little service 
to New Jersey. 

Delaware has created banks in proportion 
to its size, in the following ratio : — 





No. 


Capital. 




1801, 


1 


5110,000 




1815, 


5 


966,0(10 


Suspension. 


1819, 


6 


974,000 




1837, 


4 


817,775 


Suspension. 


1849 


2 


210,000 


Gold diseovery 


1839' 


12 


1,638,185 




1862, 


14 


1,915,010 


War in prog re 



Ohio has been, of all the states, the most 
diversified in its policy in regard to banks. 
Its first bank was chartered in 1803, but it 
did not increase charters much until migra- 
tion set thither after the war of 1812. when 
the new United States Bank established two 
branches, one in Cincinnati and one in Cliil- 
licolhe. The progress of banks was then 
rapid up to the explosion of 1837, when alont 
36 of the banks of tliat state failid undi r 
disastrous circumstances, leaving but few in 
existence on the resumption of specie |'ay- 
raents in 1840. In 1845, a new systtni of 
banking 5vas introduced, designed to restore 
that conlidence in banks which had been so 
rudely shaken by the previous failures. It 
was called the " safety fund system," being 
compo.sed of thirty -six banks w hich, together, 
form the State Bank, under a board of con- 
trol, composed of delegates from each bank, 
which furnishes the notes to all for circula- 
tion. Each biink mu-t deposit with the board 
10 per cent, of its circulation in securities. 
Of 42 banks started under this law, 36 re- 
mained with capital of $4,034,525. The same 
law created the "independent system," by 
which the banks doing business under it 
must deposit Ohio or United States stock 
with the State Treasurer to secure tlie circu- 
lation. There were 7 of these banks. There 
remained the old chartered banks, of which 
the Ohio Life and Trust — whose explosion 
in 1857 precipitated the panic which had 
been prepared for the public mind — was 
the last. In 1851, the free banking la5v of 
New York was adopted ; under this 13 1 anks 
were started. In ihe same year, by the new 
constitution of the state, the legislature was 
deprived of the right to grant banking powers 
until the law for so doing should be approved 
by the people. The general progress in Ohio 
to 1862, was as follows : — 





No. 


Capital. 




1805, 


1 


$200,000 




1811, 


4 


895,000 




1816, 


21 


2,061.927 


New XJ. S. Bank 


1837, 


32 


10,870,089 


Suspension. 


1845, 


8 


2,171,807 


State bank law. 


1831, 


56 


7,129,227 


Free law. 


1854, 


66 


7,166,581 


Free law. 


1859, 


53 


6,701,151 


Recovery. 


1862, 


56 


5,539,950 


War in progress. 



206 



BANKS IN THE UNITED STATES. 



Indiana became a state in 1816, and in 
1819 there were two banks, with a capital 
of S'202,857, and so continued until 1834, 
when the State Bank of Indiana was created, 
capital $1,600,000, and with ten branches, 
which were mutually liable for each other's 
debts, and notes under $5 were prohibited. 
The bank stopped, partially, in 1837, and 
resumed payment October, 1841, In 1852 
the general banking law of New York was 
adopted, and under it ninety-four banks were 
speedily organized, and (ifty-one of them soon 
failed. The charter of the State Bank of 
Indiana having expired, the legislature char- 
tered a new one, with capital of $6,000,000, 
and twenty branches, which bouglit out the 
state interest in the old bank, the charter 
being paid up to January 1, 1857. The 
progress of the state has been as follows • 

No. Capital. 

1819, 2 $202,857 

18.35, 10 800,000 State bank. 

18.37, 11 1,845,000 Suspension. 

1839, 11 2,216,700 Resumption. 

1841, 11 

1 852, 44 5,554,552 Free banking law. 

1854, 59 7,281,934 New state bank. 

1859, 37 3.017,629 

1862, 39 4,557,654 War in progress. 

Eighteen of these free banks, capital 
$1,203,454. 

Illinois came into the Union in 1818, and 
in 1819 there were two banks, capital 
$140,910 — one of which had been chartered 
in 1813, under the territory. It stopped in 
1815 and rema'ned so until 1835, when the 
legislature revived it and increased its capital 
to $1,400,000. The constitution of the 
state in 1818 forbade the creation of any 
new banks except a st.ate bank, which 
was cliartered in 1819, with a capital of 
$4,000,000. This was repealed and a new 
bank chartered, which speedily failed. In 
1835 a new bank was chartered, capital 
$1,500,000 to $2,500,000. These banks sus- 
pended in 1837, going into liquidation in 

1842, and no banks existed in the state until 
the adoption of the free banking law in 1851. 
The general progress to 1862, was as follows : 

Nn. Capital. 

1819, 2 .$140,910 

1835, 2 278,739 State bank charter. 

1838, 2 5,473,0.50 Failure. 

1 843, Liquidation. 
1854, 29 2,513,790 Free banking law. 
1857, 45 4,679,325 Suspension. 
1859, 103 8,900,000 Recovery. 

1862, 18 712,.15l War produced a crisis. 

Michigan was admitted as a state in Jan- 
uary, 1837, but there had been already a 



number of small banks authorized by the 
territorial legislature. These rapidly multi- 
plied under the state, during the speculative 
year 1837. In the early part of that year 
there existed 20 banks, with a capital of 
$1,918,361. These were a total wreck, and 
in March, 1838, a general banking law 
was passed, in order, as was alleged, to throw 
the Ijusiness open. In one year, 49 banks, 
with a capital of $3,915,000, were projected. 
Of these, 42 went into operation. Those 
banks were not required to redeem their 
issues on demand. The result was utter in- 
solvency, inflicting a heavy loss upon the 
public. In 1849, the " free banking law " 
was adopted, with personal Uabilities to stock- 
holders. The progress was as follows ; — 

No. Capital. 

1835, 8 $658,980 Territorial government. 

1837, 9 1,400,000 State and general law. 

1838, 43 2,317,765 Revulsion. 
1844, 3 202,650 Liquidation. 
1849, 5 392,530 Free law. 
1859, 4 755,461 

1862, 4 786,455 

Iowa was admitted into the Union in 1846. 
It had at Dubuque the Miners' Bank, char- 
tered by Wisconsin before the erection of 
Iowa territory, in operation since 1838. In 
1858 it adopted the free banking law, and 
authorized a State Bank, which, with its 
branches, organized in 1859. In 1862, the 
State Bank and its 15 branches had $720,- 
890 capital. 

Wisconsin was admittted into the Union 
in 1848. It had, during some ten years, two 
banks, that of Mineral Point and the Bank 
of Wisconsin ; these failed, and in 1851 a 
new bank was started at Milwaukee. In 1854 
the free banking law was adopted ; since that 
time the progress has been as follows : — 





No. 


Capital. 




1837, 


2 


$119,625 




1839, 


2 


139,125 


Suspension. 


1848, 






State admitted. 


1854, 


10 


600,000 


Free law. 


1857, 


38 


2,635,000 


Suspension. 


1859, 


98 


7,995,000 


Expansion. 


1860, 


108 


7,620,000 


Exp.ansion. 


1862, 


70 


4,397,000 


I'anic. 



The operation of the free law, by retarding 
the convertibility of the bills ot the Wis- 
consin banks, caused, when crops are short, 
exchange on the east to rule high, in other 
words depreciates the currency. The bank 
circulation was about $4,600,000. 

Minnesota has made, as yet, little prog- 
ress in banking. It adopted the free bank- 
ing law in 1858, and several banks were 



BTATK BANKS SUFFOLK SYSTEM SAFETY FUNDS FREE BANKS. 



207 



Started uiKler it. In 1800 there were 17, 
but before May, 1862, 14 of these had failed 
and 2 of the remaining three did no business 
in the state. 

Nebraska, before becoming a stale, had 
a number of imnk^, chartered by the legisla- 
ture, but these all went down, some in the 
panic of 18;') 7 and some afterwards, and in 
1862 she had not one left. 

Kentucky was admitted into the Union in 
1792, and in 1801 it authorized a bank, with 
a capital of §150,000, under the guise of an 
Insurance Company, authorized to issue 
notes. In 1804 it chartered the Bank of 
Kentucky, capital $1,000,000 ; this bank 
failed in 1814, but resumed in 1815. In 
1817abatch of forty banks, with $10,000,000 
capital, was authorized to redeem their notes 
by paying out Kentucky bank-notes for 
them instead of specie. The result was a 
flood of irredeemable paper, which stimu- 
lated all kinds of speculation and jobbing, 
and ended in a general explosion and dis- 
tress within the year. To " relieve " the 
people, the state chartered the Common- 
wealth Bank, capital $3,000,000, pledging 
lands south of the Tennessee river, in addi- 
tion to the faith of the state, for the redemp- 
tion of the bills, which creditors were re- 
quired to take at par for their claims, or 
wait two years for their pay. The bills fell 
at once to fifty cents on the dollar, and 
which proportion of their debts creditors 
were thus required to lose. This gave rise 
to party strife, which, at the end of five years, 
resulted in the repeal of the law and the 
suppression of the paper. The United States 
Bank had two branches in the state, one at 
Lexington and one at Louisville. When, in 
1833, it became evident that that institution 
would not be rechartered, throe new banks, 
with branches, were authorized, capital 
$7,030,000 ; subsequently another was start- 
ed. These went into operation, but sus- 
pended in 1837, resuming in 1839 with the 
Lnited States Bank, and again .suspended on 
the final failure of that concern. In 1842, 
the banks again resumed, and since then the 
number has gradually increased, as follows: 

No. Capital. 

$4307.431 Irredeemable. 
792,427 New cli.irter. 
4,10G,2G2 "n'itli ten branches. 
8,499,09-t Suspension. 
7,536,927 
]0,.')9R,''f"' 
12,83,'j,670 
15,305,.')00 



1819, 


18 


1833, 


9 


1835, 


4 


1837, 


4 


1851, 


26 


1857, 


35 


1860, 


45 


l^b2, 


57 



Pnspension. 
Recovery. 
War time. 



Tennessee commenced banking in 1807, 
with the Bank of Nashville, which soon 
failed with great loss. In 1811 it again 
chartered ten banks, and a number of others 
were from time to time started, but failed 
disastrously. In 1852 the free banking law 
was adopted, an<l the progress of affairs to 
18G0 was as follows : — 



No. 

.819, 3 

1820, 1 

1835, 3 

1837, 3 

1852, 2.3 

1857, 45 

1860, 34 



Cnpitol. 
$1,545,867 
737,817 
2,890,381 
5,293,079 
6,881,568 
9,083,693 
8.067,037 



Bisastrous failure. 
State bank cliarter. 
Four branches. 
Suspeusion. 

Suspension. 



Arkansas had two banks that were startetj 
upon state bonds. These the state issued 
to the extent of $3,500,000 to the banks to 
form their capitals. The bonds were sold 
through the United States Bank, and the 
money obtained for them was loaned out 
pro rata to the stockholders, who became so 
by filing mortgages on their plantations and 
lands. Speedy ruin, of course, overtook 
both banks. These went into liquidation, 
owing the state some $3,000,000 on the 
bonds' which were not paid. No banks were 
started again in Arkansas till after the war. 

Mississippi is a state in which banking 
for a long time ran riot, but which lias liad 
but little in the last ten years. When the 
state came into the Union in 1817 it had 
one bank, which continued with an increased 
capital to 1830. In that year the state 
chartered the Planters' Bank, with a capital 
of $3,000,000, two-thirds to be subscribed 
by the state in stock, which was issued, and 
the bank went into operation. Other banks 
were then chartered, and in 1837 there were 
seventeen, with eighteen branches, and a 
capital of $16,760,951. In that year the 
Union Bank was chartered, with a capital of 
$15,000,000 in state stock; of this amount 
$5,000,000 was issued, and repudiated on 
the ground of illegality of sale, and in 1852 
the people refused, by a large vote, to pay 
those bonds. All the banks of Mississippi 
failed, and there has since been but little 
movement, as follows : — 

No. Cnpilnl. 

1820, 1 $900,000 

1830, 1 950,600 Capital increased. 

1834, 1 2,666,805 

1837, 17 16,700,951 18 br.anches. 



1838, 
1840, 
1851, 
1859, 
1861, 



U 

18 

1 

2 



19,231,123 

30,379,403 

118,460 

1,100,000 



suspension. 
Failure. 



All faUed. 



208 



BANKS IN THE UNITED STATES. 



Missouri had one btiiik when it came into 
the Union in 1821, but it failed disastrously. 
The State Bank of Missouri and branches 
continued to be ihe only institution up to 
18J6, when a law was passed authorizing 
others, and the progress to 18 02, was as 
follows : — 

No. Branches. Capital. 

1819, 1 $250,000 

l-.!7, 1 1 533,350 State bank. 

18S9, 1 I 1,027,870 

1857, 5 5 2,620,615 Suspension. 

1859, 17 5 5.796,781 Expansion. 
1861), 9 29 9,08-',951 

1S62, 44 — 13,884,383 

Louisiana came into the Union in 1812, 
wiih one bank, having a capital of $.500,000. 
Tills was increased to three banks in 181.5. 
capital $1,4.'J2,000. The proj^ress subse- 
quently was not great until alter 1830, when 
the speculative spirit of those years was 
largely developed in Louisiana, and thence 
to 18(50, was as follows : — 

No. Cranche.f. Capital. 

1830, 3 $4,665,980 

1817, 16 31 36,769,4.'.5 Suspension. 

1810, 16 31 41,711,214 Faihire. 

1843, 6 22 20,929,;i40 Lii|ui(l:ition. 

1851, 6 22 12.370,390 Fni' bank law. 

1857, 6 22,8(MP,830 Suspension. 

1860, 13 — 24,496,866 

The free banking law was adopted in 
1853, and four banks were started under its 
provisions, which required the banks to 
keep one third of their liabilities in specie 
on hand. 

Alabama has had experience of a disas- 
trous nature in state banking, and there has 
been little enterprise in that direction since 
the fa lure of the State Hank. When she 
came into the Union in 1819 she had one 
bank, with a capiial of $321,112. In 1830 
slie had two banks. It was then supposed 
that by embarking in banking, the state 
might derive prolits enough to pay all the 
state expenses and dispense with taxation. 
Accordingly, state bonds were issued to form 
the capital of the State Bank, which how- 
ever, soon failed, and the state was saddled 
with a debt of some $11,000,000. 

The progress was as follows : — 

No. CapiUl. 

1819, 1 $321,112 

18.30, 2 781,010 

1837, 3 10,141,806 Suspension. 

1840, 3 14 379,255 Liquidation. 

1843, 1 1,. 500,000 Bank of Mobile. 

1851, 1 1,.500,000 Free banking law. 

1857, 4 2,297,800 Suspension. 

1860, 8 4,901,000 



Virginia chartered a bank as early as 1804 
for 53 years, the Bank of Virginia, capital 
Sl,.500",000, since enlarged. In 1830 there 
were four banks, and the change w.as not great 
down to 185 1 , when the free law was adopled, 
but the charters, of the old banks were re- 
newed as they expired. The course of 
events was as follows : — 

No. Branches. Capital. 



$5,112,192 

5,571,181 

6.732,500 Suspension. 

7,458,248 
10,363,362 

9,731,370 Free banking law. 
14,651,600 Suspension. 
16,005,156 



1819, 3 

1830, 4 18 

1837, 5 18 

1839, 5 20 

1840, 6 
1851, 6 20 
1857, 22 40 
18C0, 24 41 

North Carolina began her tiank career in 
1804, in granting u charter for $250,000 
capital. From that time the number and 
amount of capital steadily increased, with- 
out any material deviation from a steady 
course, until 18G0, as follows : — 



Suspension. 



South Carolina was more variable in its 
banking movement. Its first institution 
was the State Bank. In 1820 the capital 
was pledged as security for the state debt, 
and it became a regular bank. The progress 
of the state to 1860 was as follows : — 





No. 


Branches. 


Capital. 


1810, 


3 




82,964,887 


1830, 


3 




3,195,0ii0 


1837, 


3 


7 


2,880,590 


1850, 


3 


42 


3,789,250 


1860, 


12 


• 18 


6,526,488 



1792, 
1711, 
1820, 
1836, 
1837, 
1839, 
1850, 
1860, 



No. 

1 

4 

3 
10 

4 
11 
14 
20 



Capital. 
$675,000 
3,475,000 
2,474,000 
8,636,118 
4,100,000 
9,1.53,498 
13,179,131 
962,062 



Suspension. 
Eisht new charters 



Georgia had a regular supply of banks 
after the expiration of the first United States 
Bank in 1811, when she chartered an insti- 
tution with $215,000 capital. In 1820 this 
had increased to four banks, with a capital 
of $a,40I,510, and the progress to 1860, 
was as follows : — 

No. Capital. 

1811, 1 $215,000 Old U. S. Bank expired. 

1816, 3 1,502,000 New " chartered. 

1820, 4 3,401,510 

1833, 13 6,.534,691 Deposits removed. 

1837, 16 11,438,828 Suspension. 

1840, 39 15,098,694 

1846, 22 8,970,789 

1857, 30 16,015,256 Suspension. 

1860, 20 16,689,560 



BANKS OF THE UNITED STATES CLEARING HOUSES PRIVATE BANKING. 



209 



I District of Columbia banks were estab- 
ished as early as 171)2, in the district, and 
ncreased pretty rapidly, as follows : — 





No. 


Capital. 


1792, 


1 


$5(10,000 


1802, 


2 


1,500,000 


1811, 


4 


2,3 11,395 


1815, 


10 


4,078,295 


1820, 


13 


5,525,319 


18:iO, 


9 


3,879,574 


1837, 


7 


2,204,445 


1844, 


6 


1,649,280 



Most of the charters expired, and not 
aeing renewed, the concerns gradually went 
into liquidation. 

1 Florida came into the Union in 1845, with 
t load of five banks that had been chartered 
iy the territory in 1838. with an aggregate 
•a|iital of $2,113,000. These were mostly 
used upon $3,500,000 territorial bonds, 
ssued to the banks for capital, and sold in 
London. The concerns filled almost as soon 
lis they got the money, and went into liqui- 
iation, when the state repudiated the bonds, 



and there were no banks in Florida, until 
1860, when two were started, with $300,000 
capital. 

From this sketch of banking in each state, 
it is to be observed that the creation of banks 
has been due more to the desire to borrow 
money through their operation than to lend 
it. The mistaken idea that they cnuld sup- 
ply capital, was the temptation to their cre- 
ation, and disastrous failure everywhere at- 
tended the experiment. Gradually a prin- 
ciple of sound banking vindicated itself amid 
numerous disasters, and actual capital came 
to be employed in the business. 



791, 

800, 
811, 

815, 
816, 
820, 
830, 
837, 
1840, 
843, 
846, 
i854, 
'.S57, 
.860, 
J 863, 



BANK! 

No. 

3 

32 

89 

208 

246 

308 

330 

634 

901 

691 

707 

1,208 

1,416 

1,562 

1,466 



OF ALL THE 

Capital. 

$2,000,000 

23,550,000 

52,601,601 

82,259,590 

89,822,422 

137,110,611 

145,192.263 

290,772,091 

358,442.692 

228,861,948 

19B, 894,309 

301,376,071 

370,834,686 

421,880,095 

405,045,829 



UNITED STATES — TOTAL 
Loans. Circulatioa. 



CHAPTER in. 
BANKS or THE UNITED STATES— CLEAR- 
ING HOUSES— PRIVATE BANKING. 

Having sketched the course of events in 
each state, we may recapitulate the leading 
features of all the state banks : — 

OF rilPOKTS AND EXPORTS — POPULATION. 

Specie. Deposits. Imports & Exports. Population. 



200,451.214 
525,115,702 
462,896,523 
254.544,937 
312.114.404 
557,397,779 
684,456,889 
691,945,580 
648,601,863 



$28,100,000 

45,500,000 

68,000,000 

44,863,344 

61,323,898 

149,18.1,890 

106,968,572 

58,563,608 

105,552,427 

204,689,207 

214,778,822 

207,102,477 

238,677,208 



$15,400,000 
17,000,000 
19,000,000 
19,820,240 
22,114,917 
37,915,340 
33,105,155 
33,515,805 
42,012,095 
59.410,353 
58,349,838 
83,594,537 

101,227,367 



$35,950,470 

55,559,928 

127,397,185 

75,686,857 

56,168,628 

96,913.070 

188,188,744 

2.30,351,352 

253,802,129 

■393,686,126 



$48,212,041 
162,224,548 
144,716,833 
165,599,027 
229,024,452 
144,141,669 
144.726,428 
258,408,593 
2.19,227,465 
149,100,279 
235,180,313 
582,803.445 
723,850,821 
854,500,000 
594,097,040 



3,929,827 

5,305.925 

7,449,960 

8,353,338 

8,595,806 

9,638,131 

12.866,020 

15,681,467 

17,069,453 

18,713,479 

20,51.5,871 

26.051,890 

28,406,974 

31,443,321 

34,478,633 



j This table shows the number of banks, 
kith their aggregate capital, at important 
eras. As in 1701, when the national bank 
■ind mint went into operation ; 181 1, when 
ihe bank charter expired; 1815, when the 
tiumerous banks that had sprung into being 
'sn the dissolution of the National Bank, were 
|ill suspended; in 1816, when the peace, 
bringing with it large imports of goods, and 
i heavy drain of specie to Europe and Asia, 
increased the confusion and aided the re- 
3stablishment of a national bank ; 1820, 
when that bank, in full operation, was stag- 
herring under adverse exchanges and the ope- 
ration of local banks ; 1830, when five years 
jf successful working, after the revulsion of 
1825, and under a high tariff, had given con- 
Sdence to the public ; 1837, when the rivalry 
between the state and the national banks 
13 • 



had, aided by the state of affairs in Europe, 
stimulated speculation, which resulted in the 
revulsion of that year; 1840, when the 
number of banks had reached the highest 
point, under efforts to restore prosperity 
by paper credits ; 1843, the lowest point of 
depression after the failure of those efforts, 
and the liquidation of the unsound banks ; 
1846, when the bank capital was at a low 
point, but bank credits had begun to multiply 
under the effects of the famine abroad ; 1 854, 
when the gold discoveries had prompted the 
creation of five hundred new banks ; the 
panic period of 1857 ; the partial restora- 
tion of 1860 ; and the contraction and gen- 
eral upheaval in all financial operations pro- 
duced by two years of war, in 1863. 

The mere fisfures, showing the magnitude 
of the bank movement, do not indicate the 



210 



BANKS IN THE UNITED STATES. 



changes in the manner of doing business, nor 
do they indicate any unsafe expansion, except 
as in connection with the business they 
represent. Thus, in 1837, the bank loans 
were $525,000,000, and their circuhition 
$149,000,000. Events proved that those 
loans were of the most speculative and un- 
safe character. In 18G0, the loans were 
$691,900,000, and the circulation $207,000,- 
000. Yet these larger figures were very far 
from being excessive. They represent but 
$6 circulation per head of the people, while 
that of 1837 was nearly SlO per head. The 
imports and exports, were, in 1837, but half 
the amount of bank loans. In 1860 ihey 
exceeded the amount of bank loans, but 
in 1803 were fifty-four million less. It is 
thus evident, that the larger sum of bank 
loans represents actual business, while those 
of 1837 represented only speculative values. 
This fact of the nature of loans made is the 
key to sound banking. It is a matter which 
depends upon the judgment and skill of the 
banker, and it cannot be regulated by law. 
Hence the futility of all tlie laws that have 
been devised to prevent banks from breaking. 
Jt is to be remembered, that the bank loans 
form but a portion of the credits which are 
the great purchasing jiowcr in trade. Almost 
all the wholesale business of the country is 
done with the notes of individuals, running 
for a longer or less time. These are entirely 
independent of law or banks. In a time of 
great mercantile confidence and speculative 
activity, business men are disposed to buy 
on credit, and their competition for produce 
and merchandise causes a rise in prices. This 
rise stimulates greater activity, which reacts 
upon prices until revulsion is brought about. 
The agency which the banks have in this 
matter is to discount a portion of the notes 
which a dealer takes in exchange for the mer- 
chandise he sells. The bank in discounting 
does not actually lend any money. It 
merely operates a canceling of credits by 
book accounts. Thus, a merchant buys goods 
and gives his note at six months. He then 
deposits what money he receives in the 
course of business to await the maturity of 
the note. As the period approaches, ho finds 
that he has not money enough, but he has in 
his pocket-book a number of notes that he 
has taken for goods. These he takes to the 
bank and ofl'ers as collateral security for his 
own note, that he offers fi>r discount. The 
bank making the discount places the amount 
to his credit. He draws a check against that 



credit in favor of the note he has to pay, and 
the two entries cancel each other. There 
has been no money used, but one kind of 
promise has supplanted another. As the 
crops come forward from the country, the 
drafts drawn against them pay the notes held 
by the merchant and lodged as collateral. 
Dcarness or scarcity of money in the market 
depends mainly upon the disposition of the 
banks to facilitate the canceling of credits, 
and in this the institution affects to be gov- 
erned by the state of the foreign trade. If 
the disposition to buy goods has been very 
active and prices are consequently so high as 
to pay good profits on imports, the arrivals 
of merchandise will be large and the exports 
proportionablv small. This involves a demand 
for specie which the banks avoid, by refusing 
to come under new obligations. A competi- 
tion in curtailment sets in. The bank that 
curtails the most rapidly will have the 
balances in its favor from the other banks, 
and will command their specie. Each en- 
deavors to attain such a position. The pres- 
sure becomes great, the public alarmed, and 
individual depositors draw their specie, which 
exhausts the banks, and they stop. This was 
the state of affairs in 1857. 

The general tendency of the banks has 
been, under the teachings of experience, to 
equalize balances and to insist on prompt 
payment. In the case of circulation this was 
done in New England by the Suffolk system, 
and in New York and most other states by 
the free law. which required a deposit of state 
stocks of dollar for dollar of the circulation. 
It is obvious, however, that these regulations 
in no degree affect discounts and those ope- 
rations where circulation is not in question ; 
as in the checks of individuals, by which a 
large portion of credits are transferred. In 
New York city there were about 60 banks, 
each of wliich received checks on all the other 
oaiiks, and had cheeks drawn u)ion it in favor 
of all others. There were also drafts and bills 
from abroa<l, constaidy coming to each 
to be paid by others. Up to 1853, all 
the banks emidoyed each a man to go round 
and collect all these checks and drafts each 
day. and each bank kept fifty accoimts open. 
To obviate this and to enforce settlement, 
the " clearing house " was devised. By this 
system, each hank sends thither every day a 
clerk, with all the demands it has against all 
other banks. The fifty or sixty clerks as- 
sembled make a mutual exchange of all 
claims, and the balance, if any, is struck, and 



bANKS OF THE UNITED STATES CLEARING HOUSES — PRIVATE BANKING. 211 



each bank pays iu cash the amount of that 
balance. The amount of accounts depends 
upon the activitj' of business. The clearing 
house commenced in Oct, 1853, and its ope- 
rations have been as follows : — 





Amount Exchanged. 


Balances Paid. 


1854, 


5,750,435,987 


297.411,493 


1856, 


6,906,213.328 


3.34,714,489 


1858, 


4,756,064,386 


314,238,910 


1800, 


7,231,143,057 


351,000,000 


I'^Gi, 


6,871,443,591 


415,530,331 


1864, 


24,' 97,196,656 


885,719,205 


1866, 


28,717,146,914 


1,066,135,106 


1868, 


2.-i,4S4,288,037 


1,125,455,237 


H70, 


27,804,539,406 


1,036,484,822 



The emergencies of the war required the 
is>ne of demand notes by the Government, 
of small denominations to serve for circula- 
tion, as well as the putting forth of bonds, 
treasury notes, and loans of various kinds. 
At fii>t these demand notes were the equiva- 
lent of gold and silver, and were receivable 
in payment of customs duties, as well as all 
other moneys due to the United States ; but 
the gradual advance in the price of gold made 
them so valual)le as to take them out of the 
circulation, and cause them to be hoarded as 
gold. Congress then authorized the issue 
of legal-tender notes of small denomina- 
tions, receivable for the p.ayment of all dues 
to the Unites States except customs, which 
must be paid in gold, the coin being needed 
to pay the interest on that portion of the 
national debt upon which interest in gold 
was guaranteed. (Jf these legal tender notes, 
or yrcenbacks, S4.0O,OOU,OOO were issued, and 
on the 1st of December, 1871, there was 
outstanding only $357,592,801. Beside 
this. Congress authorized the issue of postal 
and fractional currency to the extent of 
$50,000,01)0, but the amount issued never 
exceeded $45,000,000, and was, December 
1, 1871, only $40,166,03(5. From our brief 
review of the condition of the banks in the 
various states, from 1860 to 1863, it will be 
apparent that they were rapidly approach- 
ing a crisis, their issues being very generally 
distrusted and the discounts on them so per- 
plexing and ruinous to the holders that every 
one who could, fhunned them. The issue 
of legal-tender notes and fractional currency, 
while it was absolutely necessary to the ex- 
istence and efficiency of the National Gov- 
ernment, in the great war it was conducting, 
was seen by the great financiers who were 
managing the nation's finances, to be but a 
temporary expedient, and liable to the seri- 
ous objection, as a permanent currency, of 



expanding most when it should be contract- 
ed and least, when expansion was necessary. 
But a national currency was needed ; for the 
people would not go back to the old uncurr 
rent money and the mysteries of the coun- 
terfeit detectors and uncurrent money lists, 
the banks of the country could not issue notes 
which would inspire general confidence. The 
national banking system devised by Mr. 
Chase, then Secretary of the Treasury, and 
based in its main features upon the New 
York Free Banking law, though with addi- 
tional safeguards for depositors and bill hold- 
ers, satisfied this demand fully, and at the 
same time furnished a home market for 
$300,000,000 or more of the bonds and 
Treasury notes the Government was then 
issuing. The capital of the National Banks 
consisted of these Bonds, Treasury Notes, 
&c., and these being deposited in tlie U. S. 
Treasury, the Controller of the currency is- 
sued to the banks, National Bank notes of 
different denominations (printed from the 
same plates, but with the name and place of 
the bank and the coat of arms of the state 
to which it belonged inserted.) to the amount 
of not more than ninety per cent, of the par 
value of the bonds. The amount of circu- 
lation was at first limited to $300,000,000, 
but in July, 1870, an additional amount of 
$50,000,000 was permitted. Minor modi- 
fications of the original law have been madei 
providing for rigid and frequent inspection 
of the condition of each bank, redemption 
in New York city, and avoiding all depreci- 
ation of the notes. At first the development 
of the National Banks was slow, as their 
advantages were not appreciated, and the 
state and local banks made a very bitteif 
fight against them, but Congress passed in 
1865, an amendment to the Internal Reve- 
nue Law taxing the circulation of the st.ate 
banks so heavily that they were glad to with- 
draw it from the market and most of them 
reorganized as Nation.al Banks, which from 
this time had a ra])id growth. 

The following Table shows the progress 
of the National Banks : 



Oct. 



Tear. 
, 1863, 
1864, 
1865, 
1866, 
1867, 
1868, 
1809, 
1870, 
1871, 



No. of Banks. 
66 
507 
1,513 
1 ,643 
1,643 
1,645 
1,617 
1,615 
1,784 



Capital. 
$7,188,393 
86,782,802 
393,157,206 
415,278,969 
420,073,415 
420,634,511 
426,399,151 
430,399,301 
462,518,602 



Circulation. 

45,260,504 
171,321,903 
280,129,559 
293,887,941 
295,769,489 
293,593, 64^ 
291,798,640 
322,952,030 



212 



BANKS. 



The following Table, giving the condi- 
tion in several particulars of the National 



Banks, Sept. 30, 1871, is of interest in this 
connection. It is official. 



Statement showing the numhpr of Banks, amount of capital, amount of bonds deposited, and circulation, in each 
Staie and Teriitory, on the 30th day of Hcptemher, 1871. 

States and 

Territories. In operation. Capital paid in. Bonds on deposit. Circulation issued. In actual circulation. 

Maine, 61 $9,12.^,UU0 OJ It;8,:i99,i!r)0 $8,414,346 $7,538 6110.00 

New Hampshire,... 42 4,889,U00.00 4,919,000 4,835,845 4,341,695.00 

Vermont 41 7,910,012 50 7,271,400 7,191,350 6,468,720.00 

Massachusetts, 207 88,072,000.00 6.-.,61 6,750 68,233,960 57,480,866.00 

Rhode Island 62 20,364,800.00 14,851,400 15.081,565 13,236,805,00 

Connecticut, 81 25,0.")6, 820.00 20,078,400 20,443,410 17,800,455.10 

New York, 291 113,140,741.00 73,545,900 83,960,388 64,018,348.(0 

New Jersey, 57 12,580,3.50.00 11,371,850 11,42.',575 10,032,52000 

Pennsylvania, 198 51,7,-0,240 00 45,731,750 46,537,610 40,357,046.00 

Maryland, 32 13,590,202.50 10,296,750 10,789,210 9,181,306.00 

Delaware 11 1,528,185.00 1,4.53,200 1,477,875 1,303,47500 

District of Columbia, 3 1,350,000 00 1,234,000 1,471,800 1,081,570.00 

Virginia, 23 3,870,00000 3,711,.500 3,481,880 3,312,400.00 

Weat Virginia, 17 2,621,000.00 2,504,750 2,452,540 2,175,54000 

Ohio, 130 24,349,700.00 21,401,400 22,357,655 19,.138,976.00 

Indiana 75 15,032000.00 14,.3.33,300 14,095,465 12,524,942.00 

Illinois, 115 17,128,000.00 15,527,200 15,245,550 13,722,82500 

Michigan 61 7,263,800.00 5,896,300 5,909,210 5,310,360.00 

Wisconsin, 41 3,400,ii0000 3,314,550 3,359,650 3,083,257 00 

Iowa 60 4,997,7.50.00 4,764,000 5,146,875 4,452,999 00 

Minnesota, 23 2,432,025.00 2,413,000 2,325,500 2,104,600.00 

Kansas 12 850,000.00 785,000 741,800 649,600.00 

Missouri, 30 8,895,300.00 6,191,750 6,401,670 5,679,718.00 

Kentucky 29 6.168,240.60 5,625 150 5,350,510 5,071,730.00 

Tennessee 19 2,817,300.00 2.706,150 2,656,170 2,443,171.00. 

Louisiana 6 3,500,000.00 2,858,000 2,813,020 2,555.489.00 

Mississippi 1 100,000,00 80,000 66,000 33,776.00 

Nebraska 5 650,000.00 640,000 581,100 561,50000 

Colorado 4 400,000.00 404,000 383,490 358,990.00 

Geor-'ia 10 2,384,400.00 2,156,400 2,041,300 1,942,743.00 

North Carolina 9 1.560,000.00 1,515,100 1,385,300 1,362,300.00 

South Carolina, 7 1,895,160 00 1,380,000 1,245,340 1,240,1.50 00 

Alabama, 8 916,275 00 842,150 884,100 768,783.00 

Nevada 1 2500110.00 100,000 146,200 72,486.00 

Oregon 1 250,000 00 250,000 136,000 135,000.00 

Texas 5 625,000.00 £25,000 648,300 557,500.00 

Arkansas 2 200,000.00 200,000 192,500 180,000.00 

Utah 1 250,000.00 150,000 176,520 132.281.00 

Montana, 1 loo, 000.00 100,000 90,000 90,000.00 

Id.iho 1 100,000.00 100,000 94,.300 89,500.00 

Wyoming 1 75,000.00 30.000 27,000 27,000.00 

New Mexico 1 150,000.00 150,000 135,000 135,000.00 

Fractional redemption, . . 8 20 

Total, 1,784 462,518,601.60 365,444,350 380,609,879 322,952,030.20 

There are two National Gold Banks in existence, as follows : 

Gold Banks. Capital. Gold on Deposit. Gold Notes Issued. Circulation. 

Ma.ssachusetts 1 300,000.00 150,000 120,000 120,000.00 

California, I l.(X)0,000.00 500,000 375,000 375,000.00 

Total 2 1,300,000.00 650,000 495,000 495,000.00 



There were in the United States in May, 
1871, 3.J2 chartered banks (not National) 
but working under special charters. None 
of them were, of course, banks of circulation, 
but only of discount and deposit. Their 
aggregate capital was, at that date, about 



$93,000,000. There has been also a great 
increase of private banking houses, and 
some of these having extensive foreign con- 
nections and employing a larger capital than 
any National bank, do an extensive busi- 
ness. 




.--. ~^^-i;,¥:S-^"SSSSS; 1 Ills. -,>> ■ ^^^^-^-^ . 

LVTERIOB VIEW OF THE MINT, I'lil-ADEH-UIA, ADJUSilNU UUUM, 



UiNlTED STATES MINT. 



CHAPTER I. 

ESTABLISHMENT OF MINT— STANDARD OF 
COINS— LAWS REGULATING COINAGE- 
PROGRESS OF COIXAGE— PRECIOUS MET- 
ALS IN THE COUNTRY. 

The currency, or circulating medium of 
a country, is of itself a very simple matter, 
althouijh complicated at times by the theo- 
ries of financiers, and the efforts to make 
promises of a thing pass for the thing it- 
self. In the early stages of society the pro- 
ducts of industry cou.stitute the wealth of 
the people, after they have ceased to be 
merely herdsmen. These products being 
exdiangod against each other, the transac- 
tions form barter trade. As wealth in- 
creases and wants become more diversified, 
as well as the products of industry, by being 
subdivided, some common medium of value 
becomes requisite to meet all the wants of 
interchange. The precious metals have gen- 
erally been adopted as this medium, because 
the supply is the most steady, the equivalent 
value most generally known, and the trans- 
portation mt)st convenient. Hence all trade 
comes to be represented by a weight of pure 
gold or its equivalent of pure silver, and all 
commodities come to be valued, or called 
equivalent, to certain quantities of these 
metals. To ascertain the purity and weight 
of the metal offered in payment at each 
transaction would, however, involve diflicul- 
ties that would neutralize the value of the 
metals as a common medium of exchange. 
Every man would require to be an assayer, 
and to be provided with scales. To obviate 
this the government stops in, and by means 
of a mint assays the metals, and weighs 
them iuto convenient pieces, placing on each 
a stamp, which soon becomes universally 
known, and this is called "money." Every 
nation makes the pieces of different weights, 
and puts in more or less pure metal. To as- 
certain the "par'of exchange" between two 



countries, the coin of each is assayed, and 
the quantity of pure metal in each being 
ascertained, tlic par of exchange is known. 
When this continent was discovered, its in- 
liabitants were savages, who had no idea of 
property, and no trade beyond the mere ex- 
change of, perhaps, a skin for a bow or a 
bunch of arrows. Money was unknown, 
and the value of the precious metals was not 
understood. The little gold and copper that 
they had was twisted into rude ornaments; 
but no man would work for a piece of these 
metals. When the first emigrants landed, 
they commenced the cultivation ot the earth 
and the interchange of its products. The ac- 
cumulation of industrial products formed 
wealth. Their first exchanges were mere 
barter. As late as 1652 the payment of 
taxes and other dues was made in cattle, 
skins, and other products in Massachusetts ; 
and tobacco was a medium of trade in Vir- 
ginia. Some money existed, but this was 
mostly the coins brought by the immigrants 
from the mother country, and did not suffice 
for the daily wants. Massachusetts, there- 
fore, established a mint for the coinage of 
shillings, sixpences, and threepences of ster- 
ling silver, which were " two pence in the 
shilling of less valew than the English 
coyne." This " pine tree shilling," so called 
from a pine tree on the reverse, was worth 
about twenty cents. This coinage gave 
umbrage to the mother country, and when 
Governor Winslow was introduced to 
Charles H., that usually good-natured mon- 
arch took him roughly to task for the pre- 
sumption of the colony in assuming to coin 
money, at the same time producing the coin 
with the pine tree upon it. The ready wit 
of the governor, however, turned the rebuke, 
by assuring his Majesty that it was an evi- 
dence of the devotion of the colony, which 
struck these medals in commemoration of 
the escape of his Majesty in the Royal Oak, 
which was executed as well as the poor state 
of the arts in the colony would permit. The 



214 



UNITED STATES MINT. 



coinage was ncvcrtlieless suppressed, and the 
example of Massachusets was followed Ly 
Maryland with the like results. Carolina 
and Virginia struck some copper coins, hut 
without much cftect. There being no mint, 
therefore, in any of the colonies, foreign coins 
were circulated freely as a legal tender. The 
country produced none of tlie precious 
metals, but as the trade of the colonies in- 
creased, and tliey began to have a surplus of 
fish, provisions, food, tobacco, etc., beyond 
their own wants, to sell, they built vessels, 
and carried these articles, mostly fish, to the 
West Indies and the catholic countries of 
Europe ; and as the mother country did not 
allow the colonics to buy manufactures ex- 
cept from herself, money was mostly had in 
exchange for this produce. Guineas, joes, 
half joes, doubloons, and pistoles of various 
origin constituted the gold currency, while 
the silver was mostly the Spanish American 
dollar and its fractions : the half, quarter, 
eighth, and sixteenth, with the pistareen and 
half pistareen. This silver coin flowed into 
the colonics from the Spanish West Indies, 
in exchange for fish and food ; and the 
Spanish dollar thus^ came to be the best 
known and most generally adopted unit of 
money. The coin had upon its reverse the 
pillars of Hercules, and was known as the 
pillar dollar ; hence the dollar mark (^), whicli 
represents " S," for " Spanish," entwining the 
pillars. Inasmuch as the " balance of 
trade" was in favor of England, the largest 
portion of tlie coin that flowed in from other 
quarters was .sent thither, and this tendency 
was increased by the pernicious issues of 
paper money by the colonies. This paper 
displaced the coin, and drove it all out of the 
countr}'. The exigencies of the several 
colonial governments caused them to make 
excessive issues of this " paper" or " bills of 
credit," and it fell to a lieavy discount as 
compared with coin. Not being convertible 
at the date of the Revolution the deprecia- 
tion in the several colonies was nearly as 
follows : — 

VALUE OF TUB DOLLAR AND THK £ STERLING IN 
COLONIAL PAPER MONET. 

£ sterling:. Dollar. 

£. 8. (1. s. d. 

New England and Virpinia ... 1 G 8 GO 

New York and North-eastern .115 6! 8 

Middle states 1 13 4 7 6 

South Carolina and Georgia. . . 1 8| 4 8 

On the formation of the new government, 
the terrible state of tlie currency first attract- 



ed attention. The country had been flooded 
with " continental money," which had been 
issued to the extent of three hundred and 
sixty millions for war expenses. The states 
had issued " bills of credit," which were de- 
preciated as in the table ; and the debased 
and diversified foreign coins that circulated 
were very few in number. Private credit 
hardly existed. Frightful jobbing took 
place in the government paper, and industry 
could with difficulty get its proper reward. 
The first efl'ort was to give the federal gov- 
ernment alone the right to coin money, to 
prohibit the states fn>m ife.suing any more 
" bills of credit," and to get the continental 
money out of circulation by providing for 
its payment. Ilobert Morris had been di- 
rected to report upon the mint and a system 
of coin.agc, and he did so early in 1782. 
Many plans were based upon his report, and 
finally that of Mr. Jefl'erson was adopted. 
It conformed to the decimal notation, with 
the Spanish dollar as the unit : A gold piece 
of ten dollars, to bo called the eagle, with 
its half and quarter ; a dollar in silver ; a 
tenth of a dollar in silver ; a hundredth of a 
dollar in copper. 

In accordance with the plan of Mr. Jeffer- 
son, a law of April 2, 1792, enacted regula- 
tions for a mint, located at riiiladelphia, and 
the coinage proceeded. It was found that, 
owing to the rise in the value of copper, the 
cent had been made too heavy, and, Janu- 
ary 14, 1790, it was reduced to two hundred 
and eight grains, and January 26, 1790, it 
was again reduced to one liundred and sixty- 
eight grains, at which rate it remained until 
the late intr'xlnctiun of nickle. Tlie mint 
being established at Philadelphia, the work 
of coinage went on slowly, for two principal 
reasons. The first was that the material for 
coin — that is, gold and silver, no matter in 
what shape it may bo — was obtained only, by 
the operation of trade, from abroad, and 
nearly all of it arrived at New York, the 
property of merchants. Now, although the 
government charged nothing for coining, 
yet, to send the metal from New York to 
Philadelphia during the first forty years 
of the government, when there was none but 
wagon conveyance, was expensive, and ac- 
companied with some risk. It was not, 
therefore, to be expected that the merchants 
would undertake this without any benefit ; 
the more so, as the same law, in the second 
place, still allowed the foreign coins to be 
legal tender. The merchant who received, 



UNITED STATES MINT. 



215 



say ten thousand dollars in gold coin at 
New York had only to lodge that coin in the 
local bank, and use the paper money issued 
by the bank. There was no necessity to 
send the coin to Philadelphia merely to be 
recoined without profit. It was also the 
case that iu the course of the newly devel- 
oped commerce between the United States 
and the couutries of Europe, it was found 
that silver had been valued too high at the 
mint. It was coined in the ratio of fifteen 
to one of gold, when its real value was near- 
er sixteen to one. This relative value of the 
two metals depends upon the respective de- 
mand and supply ia the markets of the 
world. At about the date of the discovery 
of America it was ten to one ; that is, ten 
ounces of pure silver were equal to one 
ounce of pure gold. When Peru and Span- 
ish America poured in their large supplies 
of silver, the rate gradually fell to fifteen to 
one. At the close of the eighteenth centu- 
ry, and with the greater freedom of com- 
merce in the first half of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, it was found still to decline. The 
reason of this is obvious, since, in any local- 
ity, the relative value of the metals will be 
proportioned to the local supply of either, 
influenced by the expense of sending either 
to other localities. Thus, silver may have 
been really fourteen to one in one place, and 
sixteen to one in another, and the ditHcul- 
ties of transportation prevented an equaliza- 
tion. As soon as communication became 
prompt and cheap the equalization took 
place, and the general relative value was 
found to be somewhat changed. The effect 
of this was tliat silver came here and gold 
went away. Nearly all the coinage of the 
mint was silver. Tins evil attracted the at- 
tention of the government, and a remedy 
was sought. This was finally found in 
changing the relative value of the silver to 
gold in the coinage by simply putting less 
pure gold into the eagle, and letting the 
silver remain as it was. The quantity of 
pure gold in the eagle was, therefore, by the 
law of June 28, 1834, reduced from 247.5 
grains to 232 grains, or rather more than 
six and five-eighths per cent, and the quan- 
tity of alloy was slightly increased, so as to 
make the fineness of the gold nine-tenths, 
or nine grains of fine gold to one of alloy in 
each piece. 

This was found not to be exact, and in 
1837 the pure gold was slightly increased, 
and this regulation remains. Under all 



the laws the gold coins have been as fol- 
lows : — 



Fine- 
ness. 



^",7 Alloy. Total Total 

,!;^L «"-- -^PP"- Alloy. ^^ 

1192, 247.5 5.G2i 16.87^ 22.5 270 916.7 

\SM, 232.0 6.50 ' 19.50 26.0 25S S99.2 

1837, 232.2 6.45 19.35 25.8 258 900.0 

These proportions remain now the same 
for gold. In order to bring the silver to the 
same standard, the law of 1837 reduced the 
alloy in dollars three and a half grains, mak- 
ing the dollar weigh 412 1-2 grains instead 
of 41G. 

In all this period, up to 1838, there had 
been bat one mint, and that at rhiladclphia. 
In 1831, under the desire of the government 
to enlarge the metallic basis of the national 
currency, three branches were authorized, 
one at New Orleans, one at Charlotte, North 
Carolina, and one at Dahlonega, Georgia. 
These two latter were in mining districts, 
where gold began to be produced to some 
extent, and all three went into operation in 

1838. The coinage progressed down to 
1853, when, in consequence of the change 
brought about by the gold discoveries in 
California, a new law in relation to the silvef 
currency was enacted. Before giving an 
account of that change, we may take a table 
of the coinage at the mint since its organiza- 
tion for several periods. 



1791 to 1820, 
10:^1 10 ma4, 


UNITED 

OoM. 
7.431,545 
4,3J4 -.US 


STATES COINAGE. 

Copper 
Silver. and Niokel 
10,'.IS0.431 4il,7;i6 
■25.^:il.«47 23f..7a3 


Total. 
18.833.771 
29.945,78T 


Total to 1834, 
!m:u u. 18:t7. 
ih:w t.> 1«48, 
\Hi9lo 1H52, 
lH.->3 to 1H60. 

18B1 to laio, 


11.825.»!K) 
11,41:4.450 
53.. ■!■«(, 965 
G0,2U.:U5 
3JI.377.'.Ol 
38:i.-i-10.()IO 


S6.2»5.078 
12.560,115 
■24.251.7fi9 
6,014.503 
4fi. 318.9.56 
18.47fi.7tO 

144,0I2,U7 


658.590 
l:t7.323 
5i:i.33S 
311,207 
1,030.347 
8,473.235 


48.779.558 
24.121.888 
78.195.570 
166,567.031 
498.790,80* 
410,180,985 


Tot.-il. 


$S71,lOi>,lGl 


U,223.03S 


1,226, Ui,8fiS 



In the first twenty-seven years of the mint 
operation, the gold coinage was about seven- 
ty-five per cent, of the silver coinage. That 
whole period embraced the European war, 
and the first operations of the mint were to 
coin as much of the metals already in the 
country as came within their reach. In the 
second period, from 1821 to 1834, the oiTect 
of the change in the relative value of the 
metals of which we have spoken, became 
manifest, and the gold coinage was about 
one-sixth only of the silver coinage. In 
1834 the new gold bill produced a change, 
and the gold coinage became nearly equal to 
that of silver. Soon after the passage of 
this law, the payment of the French indem- 



216 



UNITED STATES MINT. 



nity, enforced under the administration of : 
General Jackson, took place, and it was paid 
in the form of gold bars, of weiglit varying 
from twenty-five to six hundred and fifty 
ounces each. The first of them were received 
at the United States mint Septeml>er, 1834, 
and from that date to September, 1838, six 
liundred of these bars were deposited at tlie 
mint; the value was Ci3,500,(j(JO. In 1838 
the branches came into operation, and the 
coinage was increased by their operations 
and l>y 13,705,250 of gold of domestic jiro- 
duction, to the close of 1848. In 1840 
California gold began to make its appear- 
ance, and $'7,079,144 worth of it was coined 
in tliat year. The great influx of gold bul- 
lion upon tlic mint by far exceeded its capac- 
ity to do the work, and Congress author- 
ized, by the act of March 3d, 1849, the coin- 
age of doulile eagles, or S^20 pieces, and 
also one dollar pieces to supply the place of 
the silver coin, which had been drained off 
to California in exchange for the gold, whicli 
sold as low as $15 and 8lG per ounce, 
although worth $20 and 821. The law of 
May, 1852, autliorized the coinage of S3 
pieces. 

In ten years, to flic close of 1848, the 
gold coinage had amounted to double the sil- 
ver coinage, and tlie new influx of gold excited 
fears that the value of siher woulil rise rap- 
idly as compared with gold. From 1848 
to 1857 the coinage of silver was very small, 
while the domantl for it was large. To avoid 
inconvenience from this cause, a new bill 
was passed, to take effect April 1st, 1853. 
By this bill it was enacted that gold or sil- 
ver deposited with the mint, miglit be cast 
into bars or ingots of pure metal, or standard 
fineness, at the option of the depositor, with 
a stamp designating the weight and fineness; 
no pieces less than ten ounces shall be other 
than of standard fineness ; the charge for 
this is one-half per cent. Inasmuch as most 
of the gold arrives at New York, efforts were 
made to procure the establishment of a mint 
at that point. Instead, however, of a mint, 
an assay office was established there, and a 
branch mint at San Francisco, in 1854. The 
law allows the depositor to draw either bars 
or coin in return, the description desired to 
be stated at the time of the deposit. The 
production of bars and coins under all these 
regulations has been large, for gold as well 
as silver. 

Until the law of 1834, the quantity of 
gold coin in circulation was not large. The 



banks supplied so largo a quantity of smaU 
bills as to fill the channels of circulation for 
sums above a dollar, and under that amount 
the circulation was almost altogether small 
Spanish coins, which, being much depreci- 
ated l)y wear and tear, passed for more than 
their intrinsic value, and consequently flood- 
ed the country, greatly infiucncing retaU 
prices. This was particularly the case with 
the pistarcens, wliich, up to 1827, were 
taken at twenty cents, or five to the dollar, 
although they were really worth but eighteen 
and a half cents, consequently there was lit- 
tle other change to be had. In consequence 
of a report of the Mint Director of that year, 
they were refused at more than seventeen 
cents, and they very speedily disappeared 
from circulation, and liave not now been 
seen for more than 35 years. The quar- 
ters continued to circulate at twenty-five 
cents, although the average value was twen- 
ty-three and a half cents ; the eighths were 
taken at twelve and a half, although they 
were worth only eleven and one-eighth ; the 
sixteenth was taken at six and a quarter, 
although wortli but five cents. It resulted 
that these coins became very abundant, driv- 
ing out the dimes and lialf dimes, and in 
1843 the post-ofnce and the banks refusing 
them altogether, they were supplanted by 
the American coin, until the gold discover- 
ies of 1848. After that event, owing to the 
increased production of gold, and the fact 
that some of the European states changed 
their monetary policy, making silver the 
sole standard of value, the latter metal be- 
came worth more in market than its nominal 
value in United States coin, and was gradu- 
ally withdrawn from the currency, until, in 
1852, silver coin became very scarce, and 
there was not sufficient left in circulation for 
the purposes of change. A premium of four 
per cent, was paid for dollars and half dol- 
lars for export, and the smaller coins com- 
manded, in many cases, a still higher price, 
for use among shop-keepers and small traders. 
It was easy to see that, unless the weight of 
our silver coin was reduced, there would 
soon be none left in the countr}'. Already 
the eating-houses and drinking saloons had 
issued their tickets, or shinplaster tokens, in 
place of coin ; and the poor, who purchased 
the necessaries of life in small amounts, 
were put to great inconvenience, or obliged 
to submit to ruinous shaves upon their paper 
money. To remedy these evils, Congress 
passed the act of February 21st, 1853 (to 



UNITED STATE3 MINT. 



217 



take cflr<'ct the 1st of April following), au- 
thorizing the coinage of lialf doUars, qnarter 
dollars, d mes, and half dimes, weighing 
less than the old coin, as follows : 





Old coin. 


New coin. 


II !f dollar, jjrains. 


...200^:^ 


192 


QiiatiTdolUr, do.. 


...U«l8 


9C 


i me, do. . 




3S 2 5 


Uoii dime, do.. 


19 1-.^ 



The dolhiT was not changed, and the 
weight (if ihat ]Mcce i.-i 412 1-2 grains, the 
weight which it has borne since 18oG; this 

Philadelphia. New Orleans. 
I'icccs. Pieces. 

PoI]ars 1,621,000 87.').OO0 

Half dollars 14,323,1,30 12,566,000 

tiiiartei- dollars . . . 23,089,430 2,348,000 

Dimes 7,236,380 2,350,000 

Hair dimes 13,826,130 4,660 000 

3 cent pieces 4,222,230 720,000 

64,318,300 23,519,000 

In addition to this ^mall silver coin, there 
has been coined .since ly49, $18,9UO,000 in 
one dollar gold pieces. Thtse were never, 
however, a popular coin. 

The main ^ource of supply of the precious 
metals to the mint was, before 1849, from 
al)road, through the operations of conjmerce, 
though the Southern States furnished almost 
fifteen millions. Since that time, the Pacilic 
slope has been the leading .-ouree. The quan- 
tity of domestic gold deposited at the mint 
has been as follows : 

DEPOSITS OF D0M:;STIC gold at SnST AND DRA.VCHES. 

To 1851. 1851 to 1859. To 1870. 

Virginia. 1,197,338 327,977 1,615,736 

N. Carolina, 6,707,458 2,236,951 9,684,622 

S.Carolina, 817,692 462,913 1,371,384 

Georpa, 6,018.603 782,270 7,151,236 

Tennessee, 76,574 4,337 81,530 

Alabama, 186,627 10,131 206,041 

New Mexico, 38,963 9,709 523,133 

California, 31,838,079 419,472,761 630,575,666 

Kansas, 4,172 5,008 

Oregon, 69,272 10,738,134 

Other places, 41,103 33,121 106596,699 

Total, $46,922,437 $423,418,614 $768,019,189 

Of this large amount, S721,09G,752 of gold 
depo.-iited at the mint and its branches in the 
20 years, 18.51-1870, about $236,000,000 
was cast into bars, and exported, together 
with the surplus of coin, to Europe, as mer- 
chandise. The domestic silver supplied to 
the mint and branches amounted in all to 
SI 2,558,244 up to June 30, 1870. The 



reduction of weight being fourteen and a 
half grains in the half dollar, or nearly seven 
per cent. The .silver currency was not 
debased, in the ordinary sense of the word, 
the same fineness (nine hindred parts pure 
silver, and one hundred of alloy) being re- 
tained, and the only change in the coin it.self 
being in the weight. A very important pro- 
vi>ion, however, was made in regard to it ; 
it is not a legal tender i:i payment of debts 
in sums exceeding five dollars. 

The quantity of silver coined at the mint 
and branches under the law of 1853, to 1870, 
has been as follows : — 



S. Francisco. 

Pieces. 

20,(100 

11,163,450 

l,5fJ9,40O 

2,160,750 

1,060,000 



15,913,600 



Total pieces. 

2,516.200 
3S.0.'i2,580 
20,946.830 
11,747,130 
19,546,130 

4,942,('00 



Talue. 

2,510,000 

19,026,290 

6,736,709 

1,174,713 

977,306 

148,260 



103,750,070 $30,579,273 



largest amount, almost one-half, was parted 
from domestic gold, and $707,448 was from 
fine bars privately a-sayed. Kevada fur- 
nished almost 85,000,000. 

The amount of specie actually in the coun- 
try cannot be ascertained wiih perfect ac- 
curacy. Ihe amount in the country in 1821 
was estimated at 837,000,000. The calcula- 
tion, then, up to 1849, upon official figures, 
would be as follows ; — 



Specie in the country in 1821, 
Product of U. S. mines to 1849, 



$37,000,000 
13,811,206 



Imported 1821 to 1849, 
Exported *' '* 



242,239,061 50,811.206 
180,590,004 01,042,397 



Specie in the country in 1849, $112,453,603 

Of Ihis amount, 843,619,000 was in the 
banks and 85,700,925 in the ffederal treas- 
ury ; $32,133,688 was probably in circula- 
tion, and $31,000,(100 in plate and orna- 
ments. From 1849 to 1859 the amount 
was as follows : — 

In the country in 1849, $112,453,603 

Coinage, 1849 to 1859, 529,019,919 

Supply to 1859, $642,073,522 

Import of the metals, 1849 

to 1859, 78,838,864 

Export in the same time, 435,023,906 



Excess export, 
In the country in 1859, 



356,185,042 

$285,888,480 



218 



UNITED STATES MINT ^ 



This gives an increase of $173,434,877 of 
specie in tlie country to 1860. The distri- 
bution of this mono)' was nearly as follows : 

Stock in the country, 8285,888,480 

United Stuti'S treasury, S10,000,000 
In all the banks, 101,537,818 

In plate, ornaments, &c., 50,000,000 
In general circulation 121,350,662 

$285,888,480 

Immigrants bring with them large sums of 
coin and bullion whirli go cither to the mint 
or the brokers for export. We may now 
ascertain the amount of money that circula- 
ted in the country m 1859, as follows : — 

1849. 1859. 

Less notes on hand 16,4:27,000 18 858,289 

Bank notes in circulat'n, 112,079,OuO 174,448,529 
Specie in circulation, 32,133,688 121,350,662 

Total mixed circulat'n, $144,212,683 $295,799,191 
From 1859 to 1870 some now elements 
entered into the calculation. Tlie suspen- 
sion of specie payments in 18G1, led to hoard- 
ing and the disuse of specie in circulation, 
but the amount of gold and silver in the 
country was very nearly as follows : — 

Specie in the country in 1859, §285,888,480 

Accession from 1S59 to 1870, 836,452,754 

$1,122,341,2-34 
Less export 1 859 to 1 870 582,074,940 

$546,266,294 
Of this large amount, the United States 
Treasury held — 

At the end of 1870 $107,802,280 

TheNational Banks held 26,307,251 

State banks and private banks about 104,000,000 

Giild brokers and speculators 25,O0(),O0J 

I'latc, watches, ornaments, &c., 150,000,000 

Hoarded, 127,140,01 

$540,259,531 

There was at this time, (Dec. 1870) of 
course no specie in general circulation, ex- 
ec ,it the nickel and silver five and three cent 
)iie;'es, and the copper cents and two ct'ut 
pieces, and these did not exceed $4,000,000 
or $5,01)0,000 in value. The circulating me- 
dium consisted of — 

Les.al tender notes, (greenbacks) $356,1 01 ,086 

Fractional currency 39,9!I5,089 

Gold certificates of deposit 26,149,000 

National Bank Notes, 296,205,446 

$718,450,621 

The mint operates upon the various forms 
of the metals brought to it, and these are of 
great variety, from the most delicate plates 



and ornaments down to base alloys, and thesft 
are all included under the general term bul- 
lion, except United States coins. The bullion 
is either unwrought or manufactured. The 
first description embrac-'s gold dust, amalga- 
mated cakes and balls, lamiiuiled gold, melted 
bars and cakes. The " dust " is the shape in 
which it is derived by washing in the |)lacer 
mines. In South America, Kussia, and 
elsewhere, amalgamated gold is that which 
has been procured by the use of quicksilver, 
forming a lump. Laminate<l gold is that 
which is comhined with silver, and derived 
mostly from Central America. IJoth these 
kinds come to the mint in bars an<l cakes 
three inches wide, and one and a half thick, 
weighing 275 ounces, and are worth $5,'.)(iO. 
The maiuifactured i-! mostly jewelry, plate, 
and coin. Jeweliy is received at the mint 
in every variety of article into the manufac- 
ture of which gold enters. Its value depend? 
upon the quantity of pure gold in it, ai.d this 
requires to Ije extracted by assaying. The 
range of fineness of the better kinds of jew- 
elry is 300 to 6oO, or from 1 3 to 2-3 the 
value of coin of the same weight, but the 
cheaper kinds contain veiy little g dd. All 
this mass of metal must be reducctl to a uni- 
f )rm material, containing the j)roper propor- 
tion of alloy, and cast in bars, 1 2 in. long, 
i in. thick, and from 1 to 1 1 in breadth, ac- 
cording to the size of the cijin to be struck. 
Tlie-e are tested to see if they are of the legal 
fineness. They are then annealed, and rolled 
into long thin strips by means of a steam en- 
gine. These strips are then drawn through 
plates of the hardeststeel, to proper thickness, 
and by a steam press cut into '-planchets" 
or pieces of the exact size of the coin wanted, 
at the rate of ICO per minute. These are 
then cleaned, annealed, whitened, weighed, 
and placed in a tulie, which slides them one 
by one into a steel collar, in which they fit. 
The |)iece is seized, stamped with perfect im- 
pressions on both sides by the dies, and in- 
stantly pushed away to be followed by ano- 
ther piece. The devices on these dies are first 
cut in soft steel. This " original die " is then 
hardened, and is u.-ed to im|>ress a piece of 
soft steel, which is ihen like a cohi with the 
figures raised, and is called a " nub." This 
being again hardened, is used to impress the 
dies, with which the coining is done, and a 
pair of them will do two weeks' work. The 
coining presses are of sizes proportionate to 
the work. 



INSURANCE-FIRE AND MARINE. 



The history of Fire Insurance dates back 
only to the year following the Great Fire in 
London in 1606, if indeed it can be said to 
' have had any clearly defined existence be- 
fore the year 1G96, when the first organized 
association was formed, based upon the sim- 
ple principle of contribution in tlie shape of 
annual premiums proportionate to the 
amount of projierty insured, to a common 
fund, out of wliich the losses of its various 
memljers were to be made good. This as- 
j sociation was very appropriately styled the 
I " Hand in Hand, or Amicable Contribution 
; Society," and was strictly mutual in cliarac- 
j ter. A number of attempts had been made 
j for some system of Fire Insurance as early 
1 as 16G9, all of which proved abortive, as 
did the attempt of the City of London in 
1681 to settle lands and ground rents to the 
! value of £10",(iOO, together with the sums 
: to be received for premiums, as a fund for 
. the insurance of houses. About the year 
1 670 a company was estalilished in Edinburgh 
for friendly insurance against, fire, consi>ting 
' of a number of private contributors, who 
', agreed to insure each other. This insur- 
ance, howevi-r, was not personal, like modern 
fire insurance, but the interest, and stock, 
and benefit were inseparably annexed to the 
houses insured as long as the contribution 
was continued. Little piogress was made 
under any of these forms before the com- 
mencement of the eighteenth century, when 
the Sun Fire Office in London was estab- 
lished in 1710, from which time Fire Insur- 
ance may be said to date its progress under 
the form of both mutual and stock compan- 
ies. The limited experience obtained up to 
that time, had given some general notions as 
to hazards of diflFerent classes of property, 
and by enabling a proper rate to be fixed 
propoi tionate to the hazard, had so far re- 
duced the rates charged as to render insur- 
ance ea<ily obtainable and popular. From 
this time companies multiplied in England, 
and previous to the war of our revolution 
had numerous agencies in the then Colonies. 
In other countries of Europe the practice of 
insuring against fire was not introduced until 
a. much later period, about 1754, when the 



marine companies in Paris obtained permis-. 
sion from the government to make insurances 
against fire. For a long time the practice 
was by no means general. Owing to the 
solid structure of their buildings and the ex- 
traordinary caution on the part of the people 
for the prevention of fires, few sought pro- 
tection by means of insurance. It lias been 
confidently asserted by persons well ac- 
quainted with both the cities of London and 
Amsterdam, that after making all fair allow- 
ances there is upon an avei'age more pro- 
perty destroyed by fire in the former in one 
year than in the latter in twenty. Fire In- 
surance has, however, now become very- 
general, and some of the continental com- 
jianies are the largest and strongest in the 
world. 

The first Fire Insurance Company organ- 
ized in the United States was the " Philadel- 
phia Contributionship for insuring houses 
from loss by lire," in 17.32. This was pure- 
ly a mutual company, requiting a depo-it 
from the insured, the interest of which would 
meet the losses of each year and yield some- 
thing over for a dividend at the termination 
of the risk, which was for seven years. The 
plan was borrowed from the first English 
company of similar name, and the company 
numbered among its directors Dr. Franklin 
and other men eminent in colonial and revo- 
lutionary time<. For many years after the 
peace of 1783, an insurance company, on 
the principle of the ancient London " Hand 
in Hand," existed in New York, and con- 
tinued to do a moderate business until incor- 
porated companies with capital stock became 
common and superceded the mutual plan, 
wliich was found to be too slow and cum- 
brous for the growing business of that city. 
The first stock company formed in the 
United States was the Insurance Company 
of North America in Philadelphia in 17'JJ. 
Others followed in Providence, Boston, and 
New York from that time until a few years 
after the beginning of the present century, 
when Fire Insurance in this coimtry may be 
said to have been established on essentially 
the same general principles as at present 
conducted. The first quarter of this cen- 



220 



INSURANCE FIRE AND MARINE. 



tury witnessed a modernte giowth ; the 
second quarter made some progress, not- 
withstanding the two great fires, and ended 
with a moderate increase in capital and 
business. The extensive iin<l enormous de- 
velopment of tire insurance in this country 
Jias been the work of" the last twenty-five 
years, during which lime a radical change 
has been wrougiit in the mode of doing the 
bui^iness by stock companies instead of mu- 
tual, and by tiie present wide spread and 
almost universal system of agencies. 

In 18.'}."), previous to which we have no 
reliable statistical information, there wi^re in 
the City of New York some eighteen Fire 
Insurance Omipanies, with an aggregate 
capital of a little over f 6,(liiO,00(S one of 
which had a c.ipital of Sl,OnO,0(iO, and three 
others had $50(>,0(HI each, while the remain- 
ing capitals langedfrom S^itKl.fKK) to $3,30,- 
000. It would be interesting to know the 
exact amount of premiums ainiually received 
by these companies at that date, but having 
no reliable statistics to refer to, an approxi- 
mate estimate can only be formed, based 
upon the recollection of parties who were 
then connected with certain of those institu- 
tions. Fi-oni the last data of this kind now 
available it is ascert'.iined rpiite satisfactorily 
tiiat ihc whole amount of premiums received 
by all the companies in that and the two 
following years respectively, was something 
less than "ijl,(!00,000. At that time there 
were no agencies of companies of other 
states, or foreign companies, in the Slate of 
New York, the English companies iiaving 
been excluded by a law passed Marcli, 1814. 
From 1833 to December, 1835, seven new 
companies were organized, with an aggregate 
ftipital of about SI, 700. 0011, making the en- 
tire fire insurance cajiital at the time of the 
great fire in December of the latter year a 
little less than §8,000,000. The great fire 
j)f 1835, which destroyed about six hundred 
buildings, mostly stores and warehouses, and 
property to tlie value of between $ 1 5,000,000 
and $20,000,000, caused the insolvency of 
all but seven of the companies tlien in exis- 
tence in that city, thus reducing the actual 
capital for lire insurance to about $1,000,000. 
The insolvent companies paid variously from 
40 to 90 per cent, on the claims for losses 
under their policies. During the next ten 
years many of the companies were revived 
under favorable legislation and new com- 
panies organized, so that the fire insurance 



capital of Kew York and Brooklyn amount- 
ed to about $6,000,000 ; to which should be 
added a considerable number of mutual 
companies and agencies of Hartford and 
Bosion companies, which were then estab- 
lished for tlic first time to any considerable 
extent in that city. The great fire of July, 
1845, swept most of these mutuals and again 
sever.al of the stock companies into insolv- 
ency, and left a large number with capitals 
seriously impaired. Of the companies ren- 
dered insolvent by this last calamity, none 
ever revived. From this time there was 
little increase in companies or capital until 
the passage of the general insurance law by 
the State of New York in 1849, under which, 
and tlie law of 1853, which took its place, a 
very large number of the comjianies were 
organized in the City of New York, thus 
bringing the aggregate fire insurance capital 
of the state at the end of 1870 up to over 
twenty-nine millions of dollars, again, how- 
ever, reduced at the end of 1871 to a trifle 
over twenly-two millions by the great fire 
at Chicago. The progress of iire insurance 
in the City of New Y ork may be taken as 
a fair criterion by which to judge of its pro- 
gress in other prominent cities of our coun- 
try. Philadilphia and Boston have not ex- 
perienced such sudden fluctuations in capital 
as New York, having escaped fires of mag- 
nitude like those of 1835 and 1845. The 
older companies in both cities have been 
noted for solidity and conservatism. To 
Hartford belongs the credit of originating 
and giving vitality to the agency system in 
fire insurance. For a lime, indeed, that city 
had almost a monopoly of the agency fire 
business, and is now second to none in the 
country in the character, position, and finan- 
cial strength of its companies. The busi- 
ness has proved a source of wealih to that 
city, and it now has more insurance capital 
in proportion to its size than any other city 
in the country. Within the past fifteen 
years a great number of companies have 
been started in the prominent cities of the 
west, with more or less success. Such as 
have been organized with actual capital and 
prudently managed have generally succeeded, 
with the exception of the Chicago companies, 
which were engulfed in the terrible disas- 
ter of October, 1871. The past tliirfy years 
have witnessed the rise and extinction of 
hundreds of mutual and stock companies of 
purely speculative character, which never 



INSURANCE— FIRE AND MARINE. 



221 



deserved public confidence, and soon met the 
'fate which always a' tends corporations or- 
■ganized with fraudulent purpose or managed 
•by incompetent men. To one of these 
causes may be attributed the failure of near- 
ly all the companies which have gone down 
during that time, except such as have been 
overwhelmed in one or the other of the 
three great fires already referred to. Many 
strong and well managed companies have 
;beeu swipt away before the great cyclones 
of fire which have more than once marked 
the history of tiie ]iast forty years, and in 
yielding to inevitable and unavoidable ca- 
lamity have secured the commendation rather 
than C3nsure of tiie pulilic; while such cor- 
; porations, whether mutual or stock, as have 
ibeen conceived in fraud and designed to prey 
' upon the credulity or ignorance of the as- 
sured deserve only contempt and the sever- 
i est punishment of the managers through 
! whom such vast injur}' has been doue to the 
I insuring pub'ic. 

Of this class of companies, those of a 
' mutual ciiaracter have bi en most noticeable 
for the injury which has been inflicted on 
1 the insured and the disrepute into which the 
business of fire insurance was brought in 
i the ten years following 18.'(0. Under the 
general insurance law of 184'J a large num- 
i ber of mutual companies were organized in 
, the State of New York, and in 18.J3 num- 
bered C2, with nominal assets in excess of 
I eleven and a half millions of dollars. In 
18G0 the number had fallen to 27, with as- 
sets less than four and a quarter millions, 
and in 1870 oidy eight companies were in 
existence, with assets of about two and a 
quarter millions. In the Stale of New York 
the system of mutual insurance has proved 
a signal failure. In Massachusetts, at the 
close of 1849, sixty mutual companies were 
in existence, and at the close of I8G8 the 
number had been reduced to 54, with gross 
assets of $3,9i)i ',307.06, and outstanding 
risks to the amount of $307,003,988.05. 
Most of these are located in the interior of 
the state, and are so small as to make the 
policies of comparatively little value, since, 
to pay losses, assessments are required, and 
these, if of any considerable magnitude, are 
fatal to the standing of the companies. The 
mutual system in JNIassachusetts is adapted 
only to the immediate locality of the com- 
panies, and seems to be gradually following 
the fate of the system in New Y'ork, as will 



be noticed in the fact that the entire premium 
receipts of all the mutual fire insurance com- 
panies in that state do not exceed one-third 
of those of the ^tna of Hartford, or one- 
half those of the Home of New York, while 
the premiums of nearly a dozen stock com- 
panies separately equal the entire aggregate. 
In Vermont the system has been tried for 
more than forty years by the Vermont Mu- 
tual with better results, owing to the excel- 
lent management of the company, and tho 
fact that its business has ever been confined 
exclusively to risks in that state. In other 
states of the Union mutual companies have 
shared the same fate as those of New York, 
and it would seem that the system, as such, 
is totally inadequate to the growing demands 
of trade and the increasing value of property 
to be insured. 

It is a noticeable ftict that in 1837 tliere 
were 43 joint stock companies in Massa- 
chusetts, witli a combined capital of SO, 415,- 
00i>, while in 1808 there were only 20 com- 
panies, with a capital stock of $0,934,800. 
Comparing, howe\er, the business of the 
companies, it will be found that the 48 com- 
panies in 1837 were insuring iire and marine 
risks to the amount of only SI -IO,0(J(i.Oi)(), 
while the 29 companies in 1808 had S330,- 
000.000 at risk. The increase of risks as- 
sumed in that state by companies from othrr 
states for the 16 years previous to 1809, was 
even more marked than that of the state 
companies, having risen from $0,373,000 in 
1852 to S-'50,OOn,00'i in 1868. The devel- 
opment of the joint stock plan of fire in- 
surance in the State of New York has been 
equally remarkabh 
20 companies, havi 

of 55,710,000, with amount Insured $[l9,. 
571,000, while in 1870 the number had in- 
creased to 105, with an aggregate capital of 
29,701,232, and amount insured $.',813,- 
983,709. The number of companies in the 
state at the end of 1 87 1 was reduced by the 
great fire at Chicago to 84, with capital of 
S22,307,"10. and amount of risks covered 
$2,397,339.03. It may be proper to note 
in this connection the increase of capital in 
companies from other stales doing business 
in the State of New York from $12,351,315 
with $507,887,073 at risk in 1859, to $22,- 
971,101 for capital in 1870, with risks $1,- 
695,033,500. 

The following table, compiled from offi- 
I cial reports of comi^anies doing business in 



equally remarkable. In 1844 there were 
panics, having an aggregate capital 



222 



INSURANCE FIRE AND MARINE. 



the State of New York from 1859 to 1871 
inclusive, shows the increase of capital in- 
vested in the business of lire insurance (lur- 
ing fliat time, and the amount of dividends 
declared from year to year, with the yearly 
percentage and the average percentage for 
the whole period. 



TEAR. 


CAPITAL. 


DIVIDENDS. 


PERCENTAGE. 


1859 


§32.358,315 


S4,.595,350 74 


14.19 


1860 


19,998,760 


3,83J,141.97 


12.78 


1831 


29,384,260 


3,2.50,749.76 


lO.'ifi 


1862 


29,834,260 


3,324,566.01 


11. u 


1853 


3.';,24i),7i30 


3,567,:J31.51 


10.72 


1864 


41,iH9,9t5 


4,141,374.42 


9.94 


1865 


44,2S2,750 


4,616,60, .11 


10.42 


18G3 


44,410,350 


3,3r;9,250 70 


7.81 


1867 


45,611,232 


3,774,326.96 


8.27 


1868 


49 ..531, 134 


5,051,796-38 


10.24 


1809 


61,118,602 


6.2.52,779.39 


12.23 


1870 


62,7.32.333 


6,609,998.68 


12 34 


1871 


43,857,010 


4,834,380.00 


11.02 


Aggregate, 


§527,795,771 


§57,125,153.63 


10.82 



This table embraces a very large propor- 
tion of all the American companies, as near- 
ly all fire companies seek to do business in 
the State of Ne\'\' York, and in order to do 
so have to make annual reports, whicli form 
the basis of this table. As near as can be 
ascertained the entire fire insurance capital 
of the country at the close of 1<S70 amounted 
to $65,000,fiU0. It will be noticed that the 
average dividends on this enormous amount 
of capital has been less than 1 1 per cent, 
during the past thirteen years. If the loss 
of capital itself during that time be taken 
into account, it is doubtful if the average 
dividends woidd amount to nine per cent., a 
figure by no means unreasonable for income 
on capital suVijected to such fearful hazards 
as those of fire insurance. It is fair to as- 
sume that the capital of all the companies 
not reporting to tlie New York Department 
has yielded aliout the same average divi- 
dends, and as the capital would of itself earn 
iit least seven per cent., there remains only 
about two per cent, for the profits of the 
business, as such, a figure quite insignificant 
in view of the nature of the business aud 
the risk assumed. 

It may be interesting to note the increase 
in the amount of premiums received, aud the 
fluctuations in the amount of losses, with 
tlie various j'early percentage of losses to 
premiums, as will appear by the following 
table, showing the .same for the past thir- 
teen years, compiled from official sources 



and embracing the same companies as the 
foregoing table. 



TEAR. 


FIRE PREM. REC'D. 


FIRE LOSSES PAID. 


PER CENT. 


1859 


$14,413,458.56 


§8,031,247.41 


55.72 


1860 


11,866.648.45 


6,993,630.90 


68.93 


1861 


10,.527 ,327.76 


6,249,689.79 


69.36 


1862 


11,308.418.99 


7,056.731.57 


62.40 


1863 


14,019,6.58.13 


5,666,976.64 


40.35 


1864 


20,141,152.68 


11 356,624.97 


56..38 


1865 


25.419,589.55 


17,264,618.33 


67.91 


1866 


32,281,404.76 


23.913,745.87 


74.07 


1867 


36,162,138.45 


20,818,269.87 


57.66 


1868 


37,395,740.25 


19,283.979.11 


51.56 


1S69 


39,.3.53,578.57 


20,0.54.341.80 


50.95 


1870 


37.237.621.73 


21,869,440.75 


68.72 


1871 


36,984,570.00 


31,604,180.00 


85.18 


Aggregate, 


§327,111,207.88 


§200,053,476.01 


61.15 



Thus it will be seen that the leading Ame- 
rican fire companies lost over CI per cent, 
of their premium receipts from 185'J to 1871 
inclusive. 

It is proper to remark that the New York 
Report for 18C7, embracing the New York 
Companies doing Fire, Inland, and Marine 
business from 1848 to 186G inclusive, gives 
o^'er C3 per cent, of losses to premiums for 
thrit period ; while the strictly mutual state, 
companies from 1858 to 1867 inclusive suf- 
fered a loss of over 01 per cent. The fire 
coni])anies in Massachusetts from 1858 to 
1866 inclusive paid for losses (J7 per cent., 
and companies from other states, doing fire 
business in that state, over 59 per cent, for 
the same period, or an aggregate loss on 
both classes of companies of over 00 per 
cent. The great fire at Chicago increased 
the general average of the last thirteen years 
at least one per cent, above the normal aver- 
age. It will therefore be safe to assume 60 
per cent, as the average for the last thirty 
or forty years of fire losses in this country 
to jireinium receipts. 

Tlie expenses of management form an im- 
jjortant item in the history ot fire insurance, 
and have not oidy exercised a great hifiueiice 
on the profitableness of the business but 
also on the character of the business done. 
The increase of the commission to brokers 
and agents in 1805 from ten to fifteen per 
cent., no doubt had a b.ad influence on the 
general conduct of the business, aside Irom 
the increased losses on risks influenced by 
the increased commission. 

The following table shows the cash pre- 
miums received and expenses paid, with 
average percentage for time named: 



INSURANCE FIRE AND MARINE. 



223 



1839 
ISoO 
1861 
1S62 
18G3 
13i4 
1885 
1S66 
1867 
1868 
1S69 
1870 
1871 



aggregate 



NET CASH PREM^S 

RKCEiVED, IN- 
CLUDIAG INLAND. 



BXPENS'S, LESS 
DIVD'S, LOSSES, AND 

AMOUNT PAID IN 

INTEREST ON SCRIP 

AND REDEMPTION. 



$14,»5.112.94 

13,7.50,7ia.49 
l'->,400,643.ri9 
13,41)4,597.62 
lrt,414 21:3.94 
23,.*43,521.89 
29,.319,092.28 
a8,Si;7 ,492.27 
42,23S,059.38 
43,023,947 81 
4.5,024,14.5..51 
42,.593,083.68 
40,818,312 00 



8376.430,998.90 



§4,004,567.39 
3,741,323.86 
3,484,593.73 
3,569,905.98 
4,.500.85O.i50 
6,861,790.26 
9,403,134.28 
11,791,369.66 
13,124,292.14 
13,874,810.99 
14,924,366.16 
15,128,290.66 
10,879,392.00 



$115,288,677.60 



27..55 
27.20 
28.10 
26.63 
27.42 
28.77 
31.85 
30.33 
31.07 
32.24 
33.14 
33.51 
26.65 



30.62 



! From this table it appears that the aver- 
ige expenses of American Companies is not 
iess than 30 per cent, of the premiums re- 
•eived. This figure, however, includes taxes 
i)n capital, which in most of the states are 
laid by the companies. The expenses of 
Companies in England average about 31 per 
';eiit. ; those of France about the same, while 
lliose of Germany average about thirty per 
fent. If, therefore, we assume thirty per 
;ent., in round numbers, as the average ex- 
)ense of conducting the business, we shall 
lot be far from the absolute figure. Com- 



bining the ratio of losses with that of ex- 
penses, we find a margin of only one-tenth 
of the premium received for profit, loss of 
capital, sweeping conflagrations, and epidemic 
periods. How far this can be trifled with 
by ignorance or credulity the public mind 
must judge for itself. To the intelligent and 
prudent property-holder these figures are 
full of meaning and admonition. 

Thus far attention has been directed to 
the profits of underwriting and only inferen- 
tially to the adjustment of rates to hazards. 
The comparison of losses and expenses with 
premiums will go ftir towards enabling the 
practical underwriter to form a correct judg- 
ment, in view of past rates and experience, 
on individual risks ; but to the political econ- 
omist it is of first importance to know the 
absolute relation between losses and amount 
of property insured, the actual amount of 
risks assumed to each dollar of loss, and the 
average rate of premium on ri^ks w-ritten, 
as affording some safe criterion of judgment 
as to the aspect of the busine.^s as a whole. 
"With this view the following table has been 
prepared, embracing twelve years, from 1860 
to 1871 inclusive : 







HRE PREMIUMS 








° 8 


Ui 


TEAR. 


PIRE RISES WRITTEN. 




FIRE LOSSES PAU). 


g" 2 


£«»§ 


Sis 






RECEIVED. 






s:.s~s 




i^'^ 












Si.-.:; 


|l? 


K^ 










P.V.2 


e.^ c i 


















I>^CO 


$1,617,439,267 


$11,866,548.45 


$6,993,630.90 


58.93 


.4323 


231.27 


.7336 


isiu 


1. 5:10,019,235 


10,527,327.76 


6,249,089 79 


59..36 


.4084 


244.81 


.6880 


18G2 


1,729,988,571 


11,308,418.99 


7,056,731.57 


62.40 


.4079 


245.15 


.6536 


1863 


2,150,200,798 


14,019,658.13 


5,656,975.64 


40.35 


.2630 


380.09 


.6520 


1864 


3,166,532,904 


20,141,152.68 


11,356,024.97 


56.38 


.3586 


278.82 


.6360 


1865 


3,428,105.224 


25,419,589.55 


17.264,018..33 


67.91 


..5036 


198.56 


.7415 


1866 


3,930,048,321 


32,281,404.76 


23,913,745.87 


74.07 


.6084 


164. .34 


.8213 


1867 


3,812,294.907 


36,162,138.45 


20,818,269.87 


57.56 


.5460 


183.12 


.9485 


186S 


4,169,495,474 


37,395,740.25 


19,283,979.11 


51.56 


.4625 


216.21 


.8968 


1869 


4,4.54,808.663 


39,353,578.57 


20,054,341.80 


50.95 


.4501 


222.13 


.8833 


1870 


4,509,617,329 


37.237,621.73 


21,869,440.75 


58.72 


.4849 


206.20 


.8257 


1871 


4,204.798,338 


36,984,570.00 


31,504,180.00 


85.18 


.7492 


133.46 


.8795 


Aggregate, 


$38,703,349,031 


$312,697,749.32 


$192,022,228.60 


61.40 


.4961 


201.55 


.8079 



During these eventful twelve years the 
imount insured has more than doubled, hav- 
ng reached in 1S70 more than four thousand 
ive hundred millions of dollars. The gross 
ji-emiums have more than tripled, having 
risen from less than twelve millions in 18G0 
X) nearly thirty-seven millions in 1871. The 
osses also increased from less than seven 
nillions in 1S60 to more than twenty-one 
aiillions in 1870, and more than thirty-one 
millions in 1871, including losses paid at 



Chicago. The most alarming feature is, 
however, found in the enormous increase of 
the percentage of losses to amount insured 
from .4323 to .4819 in 1871), or .7492 in 
1871, including the Chicago fire, or a general 
average for the twelve ye'ars of .496ll. This 
fact is full of meaning, and shows that the 
losses by fire have more than doubled in 
that time, a feet well calculated to call at- 
tention to the causes which have produced, 
in so short a time, so fearful an increase in 



224 



INSURANCE FIRE AND MARINE. 



tlie destruction of property in this country | 
by fire. "When it is considend that every 
loss ot property by fire, whether insured or 
not, is a loss to the common weultli of the 
country, the import of these figures will be 
more fully appreciated. So greiit, indeed, 
has become the destruction of properly by 
fire, tliat it has been doubted even by wise 
and intelligent persons whether, in a general 
or national point of view, the benefits re- 
sulting from insurance are not more than 
counterbalanced by the mischief it occasion*. 
The objections in that point of view which 
have been urged are, carelessness and inat- 
tention which security by insurance naturally 
creates, and the temptation to arsfm engen- 
dered by it. But though it must be admit- 
ted that this species of insurance has been 
oftentimes the cause of fires, the benefits 
really outweigh the mischiefs ascribed to it, 
and it would at this day be ditficult to con- 
ceive iiow the vast movements of trade and 
manufacture could be carried on without the 
protection of fire insurance. The immense 
accumulations of merchandise demand it, 
and notwithstanding the serious objections 
stated, it is essential to credit and the great 
industrial interests of the country. The 
general practice marks tie civilization of the 
a"e in wiiich we live, and has now become 
indispensible to the interests of trade and 
progress. 

With all the development made in this 
im|)ortant branch of political economy there 
yet remains much to be done before the 
business of fire insurance will be reduced to 
anything like the exactness its importance 
demands. Many reforms must be intro- 
duced, systematic statistics on fire insurance 
must be obtained and classified so as to af- 
ford a scientitic basis on which the business 
should be conducted. The evils of over in- 
surance, so productive of incendiarism ; loose 
undrrwriting; hasty adjustment and pay- 
ment of los-es, as an encourrigement to crim- 
inal carelessness or positive fraud, with nu- 
merous irregularities that have insidiously 
crept in upon the business, must be corrected 
before it can claim the high rank to which 
it is entitled. 

There is a great law of average governing 
the business, ceitain and univer-al as the 
law of gravitation, though it is as yet im- 
perfectly understood, lis principles are even 
now sufficiently well known to afford a safe 



guide for the practical administration of the 
business, and with a wise caution on the | art 
of the public there is little danger that a 
business like that of fire insvuance, com- 
manding as it does its full share of skill, 
talent, integrity, and honor, will be wantonly 
thrown into the hands of men or- corpora- 
tions devoid of all these qualities. It is a 
matter of public concern that these gnat 
interests, so intimately interwoven with nil 
the industrial pursuits of tiie country, should 
be so conducted as to lessen one of the bur- 
dens that now presses so heavily upon them. 
Such should be the aim ot those to whom 
these interests are entrusted, to the end that 
undoubted indemnity may be secured to 
the insured and profit to the capital invest- 
ed. 

Marine Insurance is of, a much older 
date than fire, and is supposed lo have ex- 
isted under the early Roman Kmperois. 

The Lombards from Italy introduced ma- 
rine underwriiing into England about the 
end of the 14th century. The first or;iimiz(d 
Company in New York was the Mew Yoik 
Insurance Company in ITllfi, with a capitnl 
of $.il)0,0OO. The business has inert ascd 
under Stock and Mutual Companies until 
the total assets in IKIJO were $:>l,S('w,!'.iH, 
and in 1871 §2.5,874,14(3. Total los^es for 
same time were S138,6.o8,0Gl. 

The "United States Lloyds," of Xcw 
York, is composed of 100 individual under- 
writers, who have each paid into the com- 
mon fund or capit;d Sl.O'ld, and each of 
whom is personally liable for at least an 
hundredth part of each and every risk taken 
by the attorneys of the association. 

The Fire and Jlarine Companies of 
Massachusetts in 1808 insured $104,6.)4.- 
'JG6 — received $2,4.38,'2o6 jiremiums, and 
sustained losses to the amountof $1.7<i9,872. 
IMany of the fire companies assume also In- 
land risks on our AVestern rivers and lake?, 
and there are a large number of companies 
scattered along the great rivers of the west 
devoted exclusively to this class of business. 
It is, however, impossible to obtain informa- 
tion futficiently accurate to warrant any gen- 
eial classification. 

The business of marine insurance has 
made rapid progress within the last fifty 
years under the mutual plan, which seems 
to be the only system adaptid to its success- 
ful prosecution in this country. 




HOOK AND LADDER HOSE C VHRAIGE, AND MODERN HAND FIRE EXGIX& WITH SUCTION AND FORCE PUMPS. 



LIFE INSURANCE. 



Life Insurance treats human-life as pro- 
ductive capital, as having absolute and defi- 
nite money value, and offers indemnity 
against its loss. Every person engaged in 
a productive industry, or whose income de- 
pends in any degree upon his labor, skill, or 
care, is worih in money to those dependent 
upon him what he earns, and is to earn for 
them during the ])eriod he may expect to 
live according to the average duration of 
life among men of liis age. If he die pre- 
maturely, his dejiendents lose just so much 
capital or money as would be earned by 
him had he lived his full limit. Life insur- 
ance brings together the men so situated, 
and upon their contributing to a common 
fund, according to their several chances of 
dying, according to the law of mortality, 
undertaives to replace to the surviving de- 
pendents the capital lost by the death of 
him wlio produced it for them. 

As regards the individual, nothing is so 
jncertain as the time of his death; as re- 
gards the multitude, nothing is so uncertain 
as what individuals will die first, or within 
a given time ; but, on the other hand, notli- 
ing is so certain as that the individual must 
pie at some time : and that among the mul- 
titude, the individuals will die at a certain 
rate until all are gone. To ascertain the 
pte of death or mortality, is tiierelore the 
ponsideration of first importance to a Life 
Insurance Company. This can be done 
only by a long and careful observation of a 
number of lives sufliL'iently large to give a 
uniform operation of the law of average in 
ieach year. Many tables of mortality, more 
or less imperfect, according to the circum- 
stances of their construction, have been pre- 
pared and used. Tiiose in use in modern 
offices are principally four, the Carlisle, the 
Actuaries, Farr's Table No. 3, and the 
American Experience. Any of these seem, 

•14 



by the experience of American companies 
at least, to place the rate of mortality so 
high as to make them safe guides for offices 
which accept only sound lives, as is gener- 
ally the case. Experience proves the rate 
to be an increasing one ; that is, the pro- 
portion of the dying to the living, increases 
with each year of age ; in consequence of 
which tlie contribution each person insured 
would be called upon to make in payment 
of policies of decedents would considera- 
bly increase from year to year. For exam- 
ple, suppose 10,000 persons mutually insur- 
ing each other for $ 1 0,0(JO each, at the age 
of 30; the first year each survivor would 
have to contribute $84.71 to pay the losses 
occurring during that j-ear. In the tenth 
year he would have to pay $102.03 ; in the 
"twentieth year, $152. G-t; in the thirtieth 
year, $207.'J(), nearly a thousand dollars in 
the forty-fifth year, over two thousand in 
the fifty-fifth year, and so on. It was found 
necessary to devise means whereby a com- 
pany could provide the increasing sums 
necessary to pay its increasing losses, and at 
the same time demand from its members no 
increase of their annual contribution or pre- 
mium. This could only be done by charging 
a premium in excess of the losses for the 
first years of tiie contract, and reserving the 
excess to meet the future rapid losses. This 
accounts for the large accumulation of assets 
by the life offices, as compared with the 
fire. To take the example just given : 
Suppose the company assumes that it can 
earn four per cent, compound interest, on 
any investments for the next seventy years, 
and charges each of the ten thousand mem- 
bers $fG'J.72 each, for life : it will receive 
for the first year $I,G07,200, pay out $840,- 
000 for losses, and have in reserve, from 
the premiums and interest, $930,700 invest- 
ed in some sort of proper assets ; the second 
(225) 



226 



LIFE INSURANCE. 



year it will receive in premiums $1,682,942, 
and pay for losses $S50,l)00, and have in 
reserve, from premiums, interest, and former 
reserve, SI, 875,512: the fifth year it will 
receive in ])remiums $l,G3y,lo6, pay for 
losses §880,000, and have in reserve, from 
jireraiums, interest, and former reserves, $4,- 
793,100; the tenth year it will receive in 
premiums 51,502,782, pay for losses $930,- 
000, and have in reserve, from premiums, 
interest, and former reserves, $9,936,029 ■ 
the twentieth year it will receive in premi- 
ums $1,388,479, pay for losses $l,230,0(i0, 
and have in reserve $20,721,981 : in the 
thirtieth year it will receive in jiremiums 
$1,101,14:^, pay for losses, $1,890,000, and 
have in reserve $27,423,219: the highest 
reserve will be in the thirty-third year, when 
the premium receipts will be $990,590, 
losses $2,140,00(1, and the reserve $27,913,- 
843 : in the fortieth year the premium re- 
ceipts will be $705,017, the losses, $2,650,- 
000, and the reserve, $24,690,628; the 
reserve is now being constantly drawn 
upon to pay losses which have really ex- 
ceeded the premium receipts since the 
twenty-third year ; the fiftieth year the 
premium receipts will be $261,538, loss- 
es $2,300,000, and reserve, $10,428,088: 
the sixtieth year the premium receipts 
will be $25,797, losses $030,000, reserve 
$1,310,591 : in the sixty seventh year the 
premium receipts will be only $339, losses 
$20,000, reserve $18,484, and only two 
persons left alive, who will die within the 



next three years, and the $18,484 reserve, 
with the additional premiums to be paid by 
them, and the four per cent, interest wiU 
provide the $10,000 to be piid at the death 
of each, and leave not a cent in the hands 
of the company. E^very dollar of the vast 
accumulation it once held was reserved 
against a day of certain need, and went in 
its appointed time to its appointed owner, 
according to the law of mortality. 

The constant additions of new lives, pro- 
cured by the companies, pre\ents any such 
extinction of assets as is above shown, by 
replacing the reserves withdrawn by old 
members, with those derived from the new. 
Tliere is always in progress, the practical 
substitution of a new company for an old 
one. 

No enterprise has had more rapid growth in 
this country within the last ten years, than 
Life Insurance. On the first of January, 
1871, there were 113 companies incorpo- 
rated by the several States ; these had in 
force 834,498 policies, insuring the immense 
sum of $2,203,438,213. The necessary 
reserve to provide for the ultimate payment 
of this sum was, at that date, about $250,- 
000.000, and they held assets amounting to 
$300,010,050. Over 620,000 of these poli- 
cies were issued by only 24 companies, who 
also held over $232,000,000 of the entire 
amount of assets held by all the companies. 
The following table shows the distribution 
of this business by States: 



state. 


No. of Co's. 


No. of Policies. 


Amount insured. 


Amount of Assets. 


Average amount of 
Assets to each Co. 


Maine, - - - 


1 


15,852 


$36,008,360 


SS ,295,533 




Vennnnt, - 


2 


3,494 


6,-500,326 


1.075,111 


$537,56660 


Massachusetts, - 


6 


52,137 


la5, 189,840 


17,724,629 


2,954,104.66 


Ktiode Island, - 


1 


2,743 


6,359,718 


H7,897 




Connecticut, 


9 


177,676 


447,207.836 


65.373,407 


7,268,600.00 


New Yorlt, 


41 


377,744 


1,048,SS9,779 


133,546.120 


3,257,222.43 


Mew Jersey, 


i 


45,339 


14S,793,S50 


23 343,275 


6,835.818,76 


Pennsylvania, - 


6 


•23,778 


64,493,461 


16,619,647 


2,763,27450 


Maryland, - 


2 


1,425 


4,296,772 


623,332 


311,666.00 


Delaware, - 


1 


1,052 


1,841,907 


187,923 




Virginia, 


1 


8,715 


28,178,654 


1,606,063 




South Carolina, 


1 


320 


1,099,040 


47,375 




Georgia, - 


1 


1,.592 


6,675,425 


562,607 




Alabama, 


1 


790 


1,808,500 


331,235 




Louisiana, 


1 


408 


2,070,500 


264,242 




Tennessee, - 


1 


3,467 


83,361709 


2,045,169 


1,022,680.00 


Kentucky, 


2 


2 530 


9,548,243 


1,059,142 


629,561 00 


Missouri, 


8 


33,256 


131,388,883 


10,671,634 


1,333,941,75 


Ohio, 


4 


11,807 


22,135.199 


1,376,952 


343,9,58,00 


Illinois, 


6 


9,546 


13,938,708 


2, .564 ,404 


890,734,00 


Indiana, - 


1 


1,011 


2,433,314 


177,311 




Michigan, - 


1 


1,674 


3,021,065 


219.842 




Iowa, 


1 


4.52 


796,622 


166,687 




Minnesota, - 


1 


326 


703,700 


1.37,460 




Califonua, 


2 


2,568 


8,357,745 


1,361,683 





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173 



LIFE INSURANCE. 



227 



The following fable shows the comparative 
iiagiiitude of the business of Life Insurance 
a the United States as compared wiih Great 
Jritain, the English Colonies, and Germany : 



^nited States, 
reat Britain, 
nglish Colonies, 

«riDany, 







o- 
















z3 


1- 


113 


834,498 


Vh 


1,225,308 


4 


12,741 


36 


424,922 




S300,61i;,056 

4&9,330,350 

6,079,815 

Thalers. 

61,446,040 



The largest foreign company is the 
Gotha of Germany, which had in force 
January 1st, 1871, 36,392 policies, with 
assets amounting to 19,439,7:^8 thalers. 
The ISIutual Life of New York, the Con- 
necticut Mutual, and the iEtna of Hartford, 
the Mutual Benefit of New Jersey, and the 
New York Life, each had a larger number 
of policies in force at that time, and jios- 
sessed a larger amount of assets, some of 
them several fold. 



IMMIGRATION. 



CHAPTER I. 

GENERAL MIGRATION— COLONIES AND 
UNITED STATES. 

At the date of the recent national census, 
(1870) nearly one-seventh of the inhabitants 
of the United States, (5,566,546 out of 38,- 
555,983) were of foreign birth, and since 
that time (to Jan. 1, 1872) about 500,000 
more aliens have arrived in this country. Of 
those classed as " natives " in the census, 
quite as many more are children, one or both 
of whose parents were foreigners. It may, 
then, be salely computed that two-sevenths 
of our population are either of foreign birth 
or parentage. This is irrespective of the 
large negro element, most of which has been 
in this country for more than one genera- 
tion. 

The term " native " has been used to dis- 
tinguish the born citizen from the newly ar- 
rived foreigner, as well as the former from tlie 
" red man," who was also an emigrant in the 
view of the lost races that preceded him, and 
of which monumental traces alone remain in 
evidence that they ever existed. Tlie history 
of the human race is a history of migration. 
Twice has the race comprised only a sin- 
gle family, occupying a single point on the 
earth's surface, and twice has it spread in all 
directions, forming nations and founding em- 
pires. The antediluvian world was swept 
away by the deluge, and all traces of the 
race of Adam had been washed away by the 
obliterating waters from the earth's surface 
when the ark gave up its freight. From its 
door migration was resumed, and three con- 
tinents owe their populations to the several 
sons of the patriarch. Asia, Africa, and 
Europe were settled by Shem, Ham, and 
Japhet and their descendants, who have 
stamped their characteristics upon each. 
From that day to the present, the same re- 
curring circumstances have from time to 
time produced the same results. As each 
locality became overcrowded by increase, the 
most adventurous sallied forth in quest of 
new homes, which, in their turn, filled, aad 



overflowed into some more distant region. 
These successive waters rolling on until the 
remotest shores of each continent were occu- 
pied, were succeeded by more formidable 
hosts of armed invaders, who came, sword in 
hand, to dispossess occupiers and seize accu- 
mulated wealth. With the growth of mod- 
ern civilization migration has no longer a 
destructive character. It seeks to build up 
by bringing industry and aid of natural re- 
sources, rather than to destroy by seizing 
what others have produced. It is more steady 
and effective in its commercial character- 
having industry for a means and prosperity 
for an object — than in its old form of inva- 
sion, plundering by force and leaving deso- 
lation in its train. 

The British Islands were the last subjects 
of European incursions. The Britons, of 
mythic origin, were plundered by Norse en- 
terprise, and the Saxons alternated with the 
Danes in dominating the nation on the with- 
drawal of the Romans, to be in tlieir turn 
subjected to the Normans. Sin e then 800 
years have been spent in amalgamating the 
races and in peopling the islands. Even at 
that date the adventurous Norseman, in 
search of the whale, had discovered the new 
continent and formed a colony on what is 
now known as Newfoundland. It required 
long centuries, however, in that barbarous 
age, for the people to struggle successfully 
against the effects of feudal oppression, civil 
wars, and their consequences, famine and 
plague. Nevertheless, progress was made and 
commerce a good deal developed, when, at 
the close of the fifteenth century, the dis- 
covery of the West Indies by Columbus was 
followed by an influx of the precious metals 
into Europe, giving a renewed impetus to 
industry and enterprise. The Spanish were 
attracted by gold, and the commercial Dutch 
by the desire to found colonies, and their 
example was followed by the English and 
French. In both these cases, however, the 
desire of civil and religious freedom was a 
powerful incentive to the emigrants. These 
motives were more strongly developed when 



GENERAL MIGRATION — COLONIES AND UNITED STATES. 



229 



the English revolution began to operate in 
the first half of the 17th century. The new 
world was then looked upon as the place of 
refuge, and Cromwell himself, with his com- 
panions, were only prevented from migra- 
ting by the interposition of the government 
which they afterward overthrew. Of the four 
leading nations that planted colonies on this 
continent, the English alone became perma- 
inently successful. The Spaniards sought gold 
only. The French settlement of the Missis- 
sippi was more a financial bubble of Law than 
a movement ot settlers. The Dutch had not 
; sufficient breadth at home to sustain the un- 
Idertaking; and the English necessarily ab- 
sorbed the whole, with tiieir steady industry 
and abiding religious faith. 
I The disposition to emigrate to America 
I gradually gained ground as the eighteenth 
i century a(l\anced, more partiiularly in the 
I north of Ireland and Scotland, which already 
' enjoyed the advantage of some intercourse 
I with friends in America. Just before the 
Revolutionary war, this disposition to emi- 
I grate showed itself strongly. The linen 
weavers in the northern part of Ireland wore, 
^ by the decline in that trade, induced to mi- 
^ grate. For two years, 1771 and 1772, sixty- 
i two vessels left with eighteen thousand pas- 
• sengers for America, p.aying passages seven- 
teen dollars each. Most of these were linen 
i weavers and farmers, possessed of property, 
and they carried with them so much money 
! as to attract the notice of the government. 
' The movement, however, continued in 1773 
I and extended itself to the north of Scotland, 
whence the highlanders migrated in great 
numbers. Knox, in his view of the British 
empire at that time, asserts that in tlie twelve 
years ending in 1775, about thirty thousand 
highlanders emigrated, exclusive of the low- 
landers ; and it was computed that there 
! were sixty thousand highlanders citizens of 
' the United States in 1799. In the report 
' of the committee on the linen manufactures 
' in the Irish Parliament in 1774, it is stated 
' that the whole emigration from the province 
of Ulster was estimated at thirty thousand 
people, of whom ten thousand were weavers, 
who, with their tools and money, departed 
; for America ; thus adding to the numbers 
' and wealth in the new world, in the propor- 
I tion that the British Islands lost from the 
' same cause. 

I The breaking out of the War of Inde- 
' pendence, naturally interrupted the commu- 



nication between America and the old world ; 
but with the return of peace, in 1783, the 
migration revived, notwithstanding the in- 
credible hardships which at that time at- 
tended the transit. The shipping was little 
adapted to the trade, and no special laws 
protected the rights of the poor emigrant. 
As an instance of this, it is related that in 
September, 1784, a ship left Greenock with 
a large number of passengers, who had paid 
twenty-five dollars each for their passage. 
They were robbed of their chests and pro- 
visions by the master, and one himdred of 
them turned ashore on the Island of Rathlin, 
coast of Ireland. Another vessel rescued 
seventy-six emigrants from a desert island, 
where they had been turned adrift by the 
master of a brig, who had engaged to carry 
them from Dunleary, in Iceland, to Charles- 
town. In the same year there were great 
numbers landed at Baltimore, Philadelphia, 
and elsewhere. Blodgett's Statistical Man- 
ual, published in 1806, states that from 1784 
to 1794, the arrivals were four thousand per 
annum. In the year 1794, ten thousand 
persons were estimated to have arrived in 
the United States. Adam Seybert, a mem- 
ber of the House of Representatives, in his 
" Statistical Annals," admitting the number 
for that year, states that so large a move- 
ment did not again occur until 1817. 

When the colonies separated from the 
mother country, the population of the latter 
was, for England and Wales, 7,225,ti00, and 
about 2,000,000 for Ireland, making to- 
gether 9,225,<i00 souls, or about one-fourth 
the present inhabitants of the United States. 
The population of the newly formed United 
States in the year 1790 was 3,174,167 
whites, or about one-third the numbers in 
England and Wales. The founders of the 
nation were then not unmindlul of the 
fact that these three millions of people, 
occupying 163,746,686 acres of land al- 
though possessed of a vast territory, had 
little else to depend upon. Cajiital was 
scarce, and manufactures had not been per- 
mitted under imperial rule, hence skilled 
artisans were not to be found. While all 
these things were indispensable to the new 
country, crowds of poorly paid and oppres- 
sed operatives on the other side of tlie At- 
lantic were impatient to enjoy the |)rivileges 
th.at our new form of government held out 
to them. The French, German, and Eng- 
lish troops, that returned home after the 



230 



IMMIGRATION. 



war, had not only left a portion of (heir 

numbers here as settlers, but had carried 
home favorable reports of the advantages to 
be here enjoyed. It was manifestly to the 
interest of the new government here to in- 
vite and encourage these settlers, at the 
same time to guard again~t possible political 
abuse of the privilege. The new Constitu- 
tion therefore required Congress to pass 
uniform laws for n^ituralization. This was 
not done until April 14th, 1802, when the 
regulations that have since mainly continued 
were enacted. By that law, those aliens 
who were in the country prior to 1795 
might be admitted to citizenship on proof 
of two years' continuous residence in the 
"United States, sustaining a good moral char- 
acter, and .abjuring allegiance to foreign 
nations. Any .alien arriving in the United 
States after the passage of the .act was to 
comply with the following conditions : 

1. lie shall, before some compent court, 
swear, at least tliree years before his admis- 
sion, that it is his bona fide intention to re- 
nounce forever all allegiance to any sove- 
reign state to which he was a subject. 

2. lie shall swear to support the Consti- 
tution of the United States. 

3. Piefore he can be admitted he must 
show that he has resided within the United 
States five years, and within the jurisdiction 
of the court one year. He must also show 
that he has been of good moral character, 
and well disposed to the happiness of the 
United States. 

4. He must renounce all titles of nobility. 
The law of March 3, 1813, required that the 
residence of five years should have been con- 
tinuous in the United States. This restric- 
tion was repealed Jan. 26, 1848. The Law 
of May 2G, 1824, reduced the term of notice 
of intentions from three to two years. 
These were the chief regulations of the fed- 
eral government in relation to naturalization. 
Many of the states have, however, from time 
to time, passed laws relative to immigrants, 
importation of paupers, convicts, lunatics, 
etc. New York and many other states have 
laws requiring of the owner, or master, or 
consignee of the passenger ship, a well se- 
cured bond to the people of the state .against 
loss for the relief or support of such pas- 
sengers. In lieu of this bond, commutation 
money may be paid. 

The federal government having smoothed 
the way, the migration proceeded until 



unfriendly relations between the United 
States and Great Britain, growing out of the 
wars of Europe, checked intercourse. The 
claim enforced by Great Britain to the prin- 
ciple, " Once a subject always a subject," 
served to take from emigrants the security 
they sought under the American fliig ; and 
in 1806 Great Britain declared France in a 
state of blockade, and France retorted upon 
the British Isles. These proceedings being 
succeeded by others, compelled the United 
States, in 1 809, to prohibit intercoiu-se with 
France and Great IJritain. In 1810 K;i o- 
leon annulled his decree, but Gre.at Britain 
continued her vexations, seizing American 
seamen, and riding rough-shod over their 
rights. The einbai'go was then succeeded 
by the war of 1812, during which migration 
was very limited. In February, 1815, peace 
was concluded, and the stream of migration, 
long pent up, resumed its flow with greater 
force The accommodation was, of course, 
limited, and the more restrained that a law 
of Parliament restricted the number that 
might be carried to the United States to one 
for every five tons, although one for every 
two tons might be carried to any other coun- 
try. In the year 1H17, 22,240 persons ar- 
rived in the United States, including Ameri- 
cans who returned home. This large mi- 
gration was attended with immense suffering. 
The attention of Congress was called to it, 
and a law was passed, March 2, 1819, to 
regulate the transportation of passengers. 
This act limited the number to two for every 
five tons of measurement, and provided for 
an ample allowance of food and fuel. AVhen 
the famine of 1846-7 gave a new impulse 
to the movement, more complete laws were 
found requisite, and a number were passed. 
March 3, 1857, the present passenger act 
was enacted, repealing all former laws upon 
the subject, which with some slight modifica- 
tions since made, establishes the regulations 
now in force. It regulates the space for 
each passenger, the number of berths, ven- 
tilation and w.arming, and the kind and 
quantity of food to be furnislud by the ship 
and how it is to be dealt out, and if any pas- 
senger is put on short allowance, the mas- 
ter or owner shall jiay him three dollars each 
day of short allowance. 

The first accounts of the numbers of im- 
migrants commenced in 1820, under the law 
of 1819. The following table shows the num- 
ber of emigrants for fifty years. 



GENERAL MIGRATION COLONIES AND UNITED STATES. 



231 



The ndubek of Alibn Passengers arrived in the United States from Foreign Codntries, from 
Government to the 31sr of I>ecember, 1870. The dates are incldsive 


the commencemekt of the 


COU.NTIES. 


Prior to 1820. 


1820 to 1830. 


1831 to 1840. 1841 to 1850. 1851 to I860.' 1801 to 1869.1 Aggregate. 






15,037 

27,106 

3,180 

170 

35 ,.534 


7,611 

29,188 

2,667 

185 

243,540 


32,092 

162,332 

3,712 

1,261 

848,366 


247 1*^5 1 l.'^4 0.^ 


466,704 

1,360,061 

72,803 

11,763 

1,805,440 






748,740 

38,331 

6,319 

297,678 


392,685 

24,913 

3,828 

389,422 






Wales ,. 
















81,827 

7,683 
146 


283,191 

148,204 
4,260 


1,067,763 

422.477 
12,149 


1,338,093 

907,780 
43,887 


956,887 

690.2S8 

39,949 

4,114 

93,434 

14,844 

8,609 

34,162 

21,365 

6,-377 

6,455 

1,790 

9,856 

73 

115 

8 

67 

1,905 

1,955 

487 

124 


3,706,761 

2,176.332 

100,372 

4,115 

129,563 

20,384 

39,148 

242,226 

69,093 

16,239 

22,703 

4,404 

21,053 

2,103 

675 

127 

183 

3,279 

3,614 

487 

294 

626 

97.659 

185 

176 

33 

4 

25 

27 

79 

60 

12 

5 

5 

453 




















94 

1S9 

1,127 

8,868 

3,257 

28 

2,616 

180 

389 

22 

17 

1 

20 

89 

21 


1,201 

1,063 

1,112 

46,575 

4,821 

22 

2,125 

829 

2,211 

35 

35 

49 

277 

369 


13,903 

639 

8,251 

77,262 

4,644 

5,074 

2,209 

650 

1,590 

221 

79 

78 

16 

661 

105 


20 931 
3,749 

10,789 

79,358 

25,011 

4,738 

9,298 

1.055 

7,012 

1,790 

426 

6 

31 

457 

1,164 


Denmark 




Holland 




France 








Belgium 








Portugal 








S.anliuia 




Sicily 




Malta 




Greece 




Russia 




Poland 








Turkey 




21 
2 
3 


7 


69 
51 
35 


83 

427 

41,397 


Europe, not specified 








8 


66,116 
185 
49 
S3 
4 
3 










9 


39 


36 


43 


Arabia 
















Persia 









7 
4 


15 
19 


Asia, not specified 




3 
2 

1 


1 


Cape of Good llope 




77 

31 

8 

5 






8 
4 


5 


5 


Egypt 














Morocco 






4 
36 


1 

47 

2 

41,723 

3,271 

363 








10 


186 


179 


Algiers 




British America 




2,486 

4,818 

107 


13,624 

6,599 

44 


69,309 

3,078 

449 


114,009 

1,923 

71 

43 

38 

36 

26 

40 

7 

3 

2 

1 

1,163 

3,693 

84 

80 

42 

4,787 

129 

75 

20 


2.31,151 

19,691 

1,039 

43 

38 

36 

26 

40 

7 

3 

2 

1 

7 364 










Guiana 




Venezuela 












Peru 












Cliili 












Brazil 












Buenos Ayres 












Bolivia 












New Grenada 












Paraguay 
















543 


856 


3,679 


1,224 


Cuba 




3,593 

84 

80 

42 

45,274 

233 

154 

99 

3 

8 


Jamaica 

Hayti 
























A\est Indies, not specified... 




3,998 
2 
1 
79 


12,301 
3 
6 


13,528 


10,660 
104 
44 






Sandwich Islands 




28 


East India Islands 




Isle of France 




2 


1 










4 
6 


4 


Society Islands 








1 


Islands of Pacific, not spec'd 








2 

3,083 

63 

42 

9 

9 

4 

3 

1 

34,754 


2 


Azores 




13 


29 


327 


2,873 


6,325 

68 

71 

323 

26 

290 

3 

11 

462,603 

9 

4 


Bermudas 




Cape de Verdes 




4 

70 


15 
52 
1 
6 


3 
3 
3 
1 


189 

13 

8 


Madeira 




St. Helena 






271 


Miquelon 














10 
25,438 


Countries not specified 

Corsica 


260,000 


32,892 
2 
4 


69,799' 

6 


52,725 
2 


Barbary States ] 






Aggregate 

Add emigration to I)e< . 31 , 70 














250,000 


151,824 


599,125 


1,713,225 


2,698,214 


2,112,655 
339,046 


7,425,069 
339,046 


Total from the beginning of 
the government to Dec. 31. 
1870 












2,451,701 


7,766,511 



232 



IMMIGRATION. 



The returns gave the number from Great 
Britain in many cases without distinguishing 
the particular divisions where all the passen- 
gers were horn. A very large portion of the 
whole, however, came from Ireland. The 
return shows, then, that Irebind and Germany 
furnish the largest proportion of tlic emi- 
grants. Other nations liave supplied a 
greater or less number, but irregularly. 
8ince 1850, or the era of gold discovery, 
Asia — mainly China and Ja]ian — have sent 
about 80 000 emigrants to California. Those 
do not, however, as a general thing, intend 
remaining. They are for the most part fitted 
out with small sums borrowed of friends and 
neighbors, wiio share in the profits of the 
adventurer on his return. Numbers of those 
■who come from other countries, as France, 
West Indies, and Southern Europe, as well 
as to some extent from England, are mer- 
chants and traveleis, who are not to be em- 
braced in the aggregate of settlers in new 
homes. The great sources of migration are, 
then. British and Ciorman, and the latter are 
confined mostly to the valley of the Rhine. 
The people of the north of Europe except 
the Norse folk seem to have lost the noma- 
dic character of their ancestors. It is true 
that then they were led by chiefs and tempt- 
ed by plunder to overrun the richer countries 
of tlie west, while at the present day migra- 
tion has no object but to seek an honest liv- 
ing ill countries where labor is in demand, 
and where hospitality and protection await 
the worker. The Kussian peasants while 
surfs were not allowed to leave their country, 
and the Russians in the table are mostly 
merchants and travelers. The Swede and 
the Norwegian are more fi-ee in their choice, 
and since 1800, have emigrated to this coun- 
try in large numbers, settling mainly in Iowa, 
Wisconsin, Minnesota, Kansas, and Nebras- 
ka. Many of them also enter into domestic 
service in our large cities. The Swiss are to 
a considerable extent free and thrifty in their 
mountain homes, but great division-* exist in 
respect of r.-ligion as well as politics, and 
there is among them a want of nationality. 
The cantons of Vaud and Geneva are mostly 
French, and threaten to become quite so. On 
the side of the Tyrol the Swiss become Ital- 
ians. The German Swiss are mostly con- 
nected with Baden, and are embraced in the 
German movement. The Hollanders mi- 
grate to some extent, and often from motives 
of religion. The Moravian Brethren thus 



founded colonies in Pennsylvania. Go1g| 
seems, since its discovery m (Jalifornia. toi 
have stimulated Dutch enterprise. The ital-' 
ians and Spanish do not migrate in the true 
sense of the word ; they leave their homesi 
to some extent for the countries that border! 
the Mediterranean, but they do not, unless' 
under the ban of exile, cro-s the Atlantic.^! 
The Sardinians and Basque Spaniards go to j 
some extent to the La I-'lata in South Amer-i, 
ica ; they do not frankly abandon their coun-i' 
try to adopt a new one. Tl;e French axta' 
more markedly attached to their native soil 
and national character, and colonize little; 
they migrate but moderately. Even Algiers 
has grown but very slowly under thirty years 
of governmental fostering care, and there are 
now but 60,000 French in the colony. Of 
those French who arrived in the United 
States up to 1870, about 40 per cent re- 
mained in the country according to the cen- 
sus. 



CHAPTER II. 

EUROPEAN MIGRATION— FRENCH AND 
GERMAN— NEW TRADE. 

The peace of 1815, in re-establishing the 
liberty of the seas, so long suppressed, 
opened new countries to European com- 
merce. On the other hand, many interests 
underwent adverse changes ; numerous ar- 
mies were newly disbanded, and great num- 
bers of men were forced to leave home in 
search of a useful application of their talents 
and energies. America was to them the chief 
point of attraction ; those who knew only the 
trade of arms, offered their swords to the 
Spanish colonies then fighting for emancipa- 
tion. Of these a majority found early graves 
from excess, fatigue, and misery ; many turn- 
ed their attention to agriculture, and the 
wi-est sought refuge in the United States, 
where services were well requited, and the 
broad territories offered a limitless field for 
activity. At first the emigrants were iso- 
lated individuals ; soon entire families went 
in quest of new homes, and their success was 
a tempting example to other families, each 
of whom drew others in their train, until a 
continuous movement was established from 
the valley of the Rhine to America. 

This developed a new era in the inter- 
national commerce. The cotton of the south- 
ern states had up to that time found a limited 



EUROPEAN MIORATIOK. 



233 



market in Havre, but being carried thither 
in American ships, there being little return 
freight for those vessels, the cotton was 
charged with freight both ways, out and 
home. The moment that considerable num- 
bers of passengers offered themselves for the 
return, that trade of itself became an object, 
affording a profitable home freight. It was 
then apparent that the light and elegant 
models of the American ships, which had so 
well answered the purpo&e of speed and 
efficiency during the war, were not adapted 
ito the transportation of passengers. A difier- 
;ent style of construction was needed.allowing 
;of greater stowage of cotton out, and better 
accommodation to piissengers, in accordance 
with the provisions of the law prescribing the 
room to be allowed to each passenger. This 
change causing greater attractions to the 
American ships, drew increasing crowds from 
the valley of the Rhine across France to 
Havre. Many of these poor people could 
raise only the sum needful for the passage, 
uid depended upon begging their way 
i.n>ss France to the port. These crowds 
jf beggars alarmed the government, and it 
look measures to stop them. It was ordered 
hat no one should be admitted to cross 
Prance unless he had previously paid his 
passage in the ship, was possessed of §150 
lor every member of the family over eigh- 
teen years of age, and had his passport 
tigned by the French embassador at Frank- 
fort. The effect of these absurd regulations 
jvas to destroy the trade of Havre, and turn 
he migration down the Ithine to Antwerp, 
Jrcmen, and ilamlnirg. The Havre mer- 
chants made great efforts to remedy the evil 
i>y sending agents to aid the emigrants, 
;ending them the money to pass the frontier, 
md to be returned immediately after. A 
Vreat rivalry was thus engendered between 
he northern ports and Havre, which still 
iad great advantages in respect of the num- 
,»er of American vessels that arrived with 
fotton, and finally the obstacles interposed 
iy the government were removed. The 
dty of Bremen was prompt to take advan- 
aiitage of the error of the French govern- 
nent, and used every effort to attract the 
anigrants to that port, by granting facilities 
.nd protecting thcra from imposition. A 
aw was passed regulating in the most min- 
ite particular the accommodations to be 
jiven to emigrants on shipboard. They are 
lot to be taken on board until the moment 
if departure. To accommodate them prior 



to shipment, an immense building was con- 
structed to hold 2,000 people ; it has a front 
of 200 feet, and is 100 in depth. It has 
public rooms, sleeping apartments, kitchens, 
baggage-rooms, etc., and is warmed by steam 
throughout. There are also chapels for cath- 
olic and protestant worship, and a hospital, 
with thirty-three beds. The price charged 
with board is fourteen cents per day. By 
these and other means Bremen has acquired 
a large share of the emigrant business. 
Hamburg did not make the same efforts ; and 
it is only recently that societies for the pro- 
tection of emigrants have been there formed. 

The Germans formerly preferred to cm- 
bark at Havre, Southampton, or Liverpool, 
and on American ^hips, to sailing ii-om Ger- 
man German ports and on German ships ; 
but a change has t;\ken place in this respect 
of late years. The German steamers, of 
which there are now three or four lines, are 
much better than formerly, and liaving good 
steerage accoinmodaiions, make the passage 
in KJor 14 days. The French steamships 
do not carry emigrants, and as u result of the 
hue war, there are few American steamers 
running regularly to Europe. Emigration 
liy sailing vessels is seldom attempted now, 
and only by the lowest class of emigrants. 
There are numbers who go from Rotterdam, 
Ostend, or Hamburg, to England, and depart 
thence to their final destination. From Bre- 
men the emigrant ships go to a greater va- 
riety of pons than from Havre. Tiie United 
States is, liowever, the ultimate destination 
of nearly all. 

The motives that impel German migration 
arc variously understood. The reports of the 
inimerous emigration societies give evidence 
of the highest traits of character. The Ger- 
man is described as a persevering worker, 
seeking to ameliorate his condition. He is 
always ready to go where his services will be 
the best paid, and certain professions have 
long been pursued by him in all countries. 
If his feeling of nativity is strong, his love 
of family is still stronger. And, moreover, the 
Teutonic race may now be said to be at 
home on half the entire globe. There are, 
however, other motives, and these are evi- 
dently the desire to find civil, political, and 
religious libert}', of which they have not the 
perfect enjoyment at home. The Gennans 
have never succeeded in founding colonies 
of their own under good government, but 
they are a valuable acquisition where others 
have established liberty and order. They 



234 



IMMIGRATION. 



seek exemption from military service. Tliey 
wish to contribute in just proportion to the 
public expenses, of which they enjoy the 
benefits, as equal citizens. They seek to 
escape the trammels of corporations. They 
wish also freely to dispose of the fruits of 
their own industry, and by so doing to avoid 
the misery of destitution. All this that they 
seek is evidently that which they have not 
got, or at least very imperfectly, at home. 

AVliile Germany was divided into many 
petty states, their division, which materially 
checked industry and increased the taxa 
tion, was itself an exceedingly strong incen- 
tive to emigration ; and before their confed- 
eration into one government was fully accom- 
plished, almost every family had its repre- 
sentatives here, and the tendency had become 
so strong for a home in the '• land of prom- 
ise," that no political changes could greatly 
affect it. 

The German governments have all, more 
or less, occupied themselves with the ques- 
tion of migration, and in some cases have 
sought to check it. Among those attempts 
was that by Prus^sia to found agricultural 
colonies. The king oftered lands in the 
duchy of Posen, and agents were sent among 
the emigrants from the valle}' of the Rhine. 
The conditions were, that the settlers should 
not leave the country without permission, 
and never without having performed military 
service. 

These, it may be supposed, were without 
success. Emigrant agents are, by some 
governments, required to submit to regula- 
tions; sometimes the number is limited, and 
sometimes they must give security. In Ba- 
varia only two houses are authorized to treat 
with emigrants for their passages across 
France, and the contracts must be inspected 
by the consul at Havre. There results a 
large clandestine emigration to avoid these 
restrictions, and at the frontiers numerous 
agents are ready to assist — a sort of under- 
ground railroad. The governments of Wur- 
temberg, Baden, and the two Ilesses, are less 
rigorous, but nowhere can passports be ob- 
tained until every effort has been made to 
dissuade the emigrant. In case he persists, 
he must renounce all rights of citizenship 
and nationalitj'. On the other hand, meas- 
ures arc taken to aid the emigrant. When 
the cause of departure is destitution, the 
communes and the government subscribe, 
while stipulating that the emigrant shall 
renounce all right to ufterior aid. All the 



persons so aided go from one canton together. 
When the emigrants pay their own expenses 
and have a small capital, bands of numerous 
families from divers points assemble and de- 
part together. Political exiles are very few, 
but these have generally consideraljle means. 
It is melancholy, however, to reflect in 
how great a degree destitution becomes the 
cause of migration. Singularly enougli, the 
valley of the Rhine, of which the German 
poets sing the beaut}' and the fertility, is 
precisely the spot, of all Europe, where the 
misery of Ireland is most nearly reproduced. 
From the Lake of Constance to the frontiers 
of Holland, that famous valley has so long 
felt the oppression of feudalism and been 
the battle-field of contending powers, as to 
have become completely impoverished. In 
the duchy of Baden the day's wages of a 
skilled workman is twent3'-eight cents — a sum 
which may sustain life in a year of good har- 
vest, but which is utterly insufficient in time 
of dearth, as in 1846, when potatoes became 
diseased. The insurrection of 1849 added 
to the calamities, and in 1852, of a popula- 
tion of 1,. 350,943 souls, 14,400 emigrated, 
or one per cent in one year. The thrift and 
endurance of the Germans are well devel- 
oped in a land of such hardships, and on 
their arrival in the United States they are 
not slow in turning their persevering indus- 
try to account. It is singular that the dis- 
tress and destitution which centuries of 
misrule have produced in Ireland, so famed 
for its natural advantages, should be repro- 
duced in Europe only in the Rhino valley, 
the garden of Europe. Tlie two localities 
best endowed by nature are precisely those 
where man is most anxious to escape by mi- 
gration from an accumulation of miseries. 
The highest nngration from Gernumy, 1'}' 
the four ports of ILunburg, Havre, Antwerp, 
and Bremen, rose to 203,537 in 1854. The 
movement has since declined, fluctuating 
with the harvests. There are, however, con- 
siderable numbers who go, by other convey- 
ance from those ports than the emigrant 
ships, to Liverpool, and embark thence for 
Americiu This aggregate German move- 
ment has come of late years to rival, and in 
some cases to exceed the broad stream ot 
British migration. Tlie migration from 
Great Britain has alw.ays been largest in tin' 
years of dear food, and it has again subsided 
when good har\'ests have diminished tlic 
prices of bread. Tlie number that went 
abroad in 1843 was 57,212, and it continued 



EUROPEAN MIGRATION. 



235 



to augment year by year until it reached 
'368,764 in the year 1852. Several causes 
concurred to produce this increase. The 
first was the famine of 1845-46-47, and the 
'consequent means adopted by the British 
Igovernment for the relief of Ireland ; the 
second was the gold fever, which carried off 
thousands; and the third was the prosperity 
of the emigrants in the United States, where 
■railroad building and other employments 
gave the means to send for friends in unu- 
'sual numbers. The most important cause 
■was, probably, the condition of Ireland. 
'The conquest of that country, which was 
Icommenced seven centuries since, is but now 
'being completed. We now see the insub- 
missive Celts quitting, with the aid of their 
iconquerors, the disputed country, to seek 
;new homes beyond the seas. They cannot 
lassimilate to the conquering race, and not 
being able to defend tliemselves, they aban- 
don the country rather tlian submit. Du- 
ring all the time of religious persecution, 
jfrom the reign of Henry VIII. to George III., 
|the economical condition of Ireland was de- 
'plorable, and misery made incessant prog- 
'ress. The landed population became in- 
Ivolved in debt, and a fatal subdivision of 
Ithe land was introduced in the mode of cul- 
Iture. Farms were subdivided as fast as the 
I people multiplied, which was fully equal to 
'the proverbial fecundity of a state of ex- 
treme poverty, and the potato came to be the 
sole dependence of all for food. The sud- 
den destruction of that dependence by rot 
was an overwhelming calamitv, that broutiht 
matters to a crisis. It was felt that migra- 
tion could not remedy the evil, but that a 
radical change in a wrong system was be- 
come indispensable. The system pursued 
had been for the landlords, mostly in debt, 
to absent themselves altogether. The land 
was then taken by " middle men," at a rate 
! which hardly met the interest on incum- 
■ brances. This land was then parcelled out to 
the poor cotters in lots down to one-fi lurth acre 
' or less, mere patches, at rates which gave a 
! large aggregate rent to the " middle man." 
' Those patches were planted with potatoes, 
; which were the sole dependence of the 
family for food in the year. They were 
' gathered, when ripe, into a pile, and that 
' pile diminished by daily consumption until 
' an approaching new crop found it exhausted. 
The supply of food for the year depended 
' entirely upon the amount of the crop. Its 
' yield was the sole dependence of the family 



to sustain life. The cotter had no property 
or capital of any kind to be made available 
in case of emergency. His only means of 
paying rent was an annual migration to 
England in harvest time to earn the necessa- 
ry sum. That done, the balance of the year 
was idly spent in watching the sinking pile 
of potatoes. It may well be imagined how 
great was the horror that seized such a peo- 
ple when the sole barrier between themselves 
and starvation was found rotten, suddenly 
perishing under their eyes. The scenes that 
followed were awful to contemplate. All 
that could, fled, and these were mostly the 
robust males, leaving the infirm, the old, and 
the young to encounter the slow death that 
was gradually approaching, and which over- 
took multitudes. The greatest efforts were 
made by the British government to purchase 
and distribute food, and to employ hands 
upon roads. At one time over 500,000 
were so emploj'ed. The introduction of the 
Indian corn was attempted as a substitute ; 
but it was nearly impossible amid a people 
entirely ignorant of its use. Hand-mills 
were furnished to grind it, and the priests 
and others used great exertions to teach 
them to cook it. It was frequently the case, 
however, that the grain did not agree with 
the people, but exhibited poisonous effects 
on being eaten. The body swelled, and se- 
vere illness ensued. Migration and famine 
did its work in spite of all efforts of human- 
ity, and the census of 1851 showed how 
awful had been the havoc. 

The population of Ireland has been as 
follows, per official reports : — 



1821, 6,801,827 
1831, 7,707,401 
1841, 8,222,604 

D«crease from 1841- 



1851, 6.623,984 
1861, 5,850,309 
1871, 5,402,759 

-30 years, 2,819,905 



In the ten years ending with 1831, the 
increase was one and a half per cent, per 
annum. From that date to 1841 it was 
nine-tenths of one per cent, and that was a 
period of much comparative prosperity. The 
crops were still good, and the failure of the 
English wheat crops in 1837 raised the prices 
of Irish grain, and gave much employment to 
its agriculturists. If it had continued the same 
rate up to 1847, the famine year, the popula- 
tion would then have been 8,616,680 souls, 
when the migration took place in large num- 
bers, and continued the succeeding thirteen 
\-ears down to 1859. The same increase in 
that thirteen years would have made the 



236 



IMMIGRATION. 



population 9,651,678 persons, or as fol- 
lows : — 

Population i-,1 1841 8,175,124 

Ten yeai-s' increase at 9 per ceut 735,761 

The population slionld have been in 1851 8,910,885 
Actual population 0,553,^91 



Loss by famine and migration 2,3r)7,594 

Nnmbcr cmijjjrated. 1,422,000 

l'o|inlation in 1851 C,623,982 

Ten years' increase at 9 per cent 595,501) 



The population should have been in 1861 7,148,791 
Actual population 5,850,309 



Loss by niigration, etc 1 ,298 482 

Number eniiynited 1 ,972,499 

In tlie famine j'ears, up to 1851, 935,594 
persons di.sa|i|X':ired more than were account- 
ed for liy m gration. From 1.S51 to 18G1, 
there migi-ated 074.017 more persons than 
.should have been lost by the census. The 
numbers who have returned were for a time, 
it is known, upwards of twenty thousand 
per annum, anil tlie.-e carried back much 
larger sums than they bronglit with them. 

In this view the emigration reacted upon 
the northern states, the emigrants carrying 
oif all that they have created. The whole 
operation above was as follows fur lifteen 
years : — 

Topnlation in 1847 8,616,680 

1861 5,850, yoit 



Decreased 2,766,.-!71 

Eniijjrrated 3,393,499 



Excess 372,872 

Carr^'iiif; forward the estimate, the 

poiiulation in 1861 was 5,850,309 

Ten years' increase at 9 per cent. . . 526,527 

The jiopulation should have been in 

1871 6,376.836 

Actual population 5,402,759 



A loss by nii;;ration, etc., of 974,077 

The first reformatorv eflForts of the English 
government were to thrnw the support of the 
Irish poor upon the parishes, and as the tax 
became onerous the forced sale of the encum- 
bered estates was authorized. The two mea- 
sures liave succeeded. The land has passed 
into thrifty hands ; the hankru])t landlord is 
dispossessed, and the extortionate " middle 
man" is abolished ; and the excessively poor 
population has been purged oft" by migra- 
tion. The " clearing of the lands" was in 
many cases conducted with nnich barbarity. 
The little huts of the peasants were pulled 



or burned down, and the hapless people 
driven forth to seek homes beyond the seas 
as they best could. In other cases the land- 
lords, the government, or societies furnished 
the means of shipments. The government 
soon found the necessity of interposing by 
law, as the United States had done, to pro- 
tect them from the rapacity of shippers and 
their ageubs. The law of 1849 was passed 
with that object. By its provisions no ship 
shall carry more than one person for every 
two registered tons; nor shall there be more 
than one person fur every twelve superficial 
feet on the main deck and below it. The 
size, number, and construction of the berths 
are regulated, and the captain is required to 
issue food as follows to each person twice a 
week : — 

Bread 2^ lbs. 

Wheat Flour 1 " 

Oatmeal 5 " 

liiee 2 " 

Tea 2 oz. 

Sugar i lb. 

Molasses i " 

A surgeon must be carried where there 
arc one hundred or more passengers, and 
many other regulations that experience lias 
pointed out as necessary, are enforced upon 
the carriers. The food is to be furnished 
entirely irrespective of the price of the pas- 
sage, which fiui'tnatcs almost daily between 
$10 and 1^24 each adult, and half price for 
children. The starving and destitute race 
each vcar sends forth crowds from all parts 
of Ireland to embark at Liverpool. The 
means arc mostly furnished by Irish in 
America, who consider it their duty to 
appropriate their first earnings in their new 
homes to the rescue of their relatives, and 
small remittances, aggregating millions in a 
year, find the way into every cabin and 
Workhouse as messengers of life to the des- 
pairing. Those poor people, once started 
on their travels, encounter numerous perils 
before reaching their destination. As soon 
as a j)artv of emigrants arrives in Liverpool, 
they are beset by a tribe of people, both 
male and female, who are known by the 
name of " man-catchers" and " runners." 
The business of these people is, in common 
parlance, to " fleece" the emigrant, and to 
draw from his pocket, by fair means or by 
foul, as nuich of his cash as he can be per- 
suaded, inveigled, or bullied into parting 
with. The first division of the man-catching 
fraternity are those w ho trade in commissiona 



EUROPEAN MIGRATION. 



237 



on the passage money, and call themselves 
the " runners" or agents of the passenger 
brokers. The business of the passenger 
broker is a legitimate and necessary one. 
Under the passenger act of the 12th and 
13th Victoria cap. 3, the licenses of all the 
passenger brokers expired on the 1st of 
February, 1850, subject to renewal after 
their being approved of by the government 
emigration agent, and to their entering into 
bonds, with two sureties, in the sum of 
$1,000, for the due fulfilment of all the re- 
quirements of the act of Parliament relating 
to the comfort and security of emigrants. 
The passenger brokers at Liverpool, in com- 
mon with the unwary and unsuspecting emi- 
grants, have suffered greatly from the mal- 
practices of the " runners," who pretend to 
be their agents. These man-catchers pro- 
cure whatever sums they can from emigrants 
as passage money — perhaps $25 or $30, or 
even more — and pay as little as they can to 
the passenger broker, whose business they 
thus assume — often as little as £3, or £3 5s. 
In addition to these large and knavish prof- 
its, they demand a commission of seven and 
a half per cent, from the passenger broker, 
and they have been often known to obtain 
and enforce this eonmiission, although their 
whole concern in the matter may have been 
to watch the number of emigrants going 
into or coming out of the brokery otflce, 
and to put in a claim for having brought or 
" caught" them. 

To form an idea of the sums paid in any 
one year as commission to the man-catchers, 
in the item of passage money, we have but 
to take the total steerage emigi-ation of that 
year and multiply it by £3 10s., or seven- 
teen dollars — the average amount of passage 
money — and calculate what a per-centage of 
seven and a half per cent, would amount to. 
The total steerage emigration of 1859 was 
one hundred and forty-six thousand one 
hundred and sixty-two souls, which, at seven- 
teen dollars a head, would amount to no 
less than two million fmrhundred and eighty- 
four thousand seven hundred and fifty-four 
dollars, on which, taking the commission at 
the low rate of six per cent., they draw one 
hundred and forty-nine thousand and forty 
dollars, which is generally stated to be about 
the sum actually paid to this particular class 
of people, on the average of the last three 
years, by the passengec-brokers of Liverpool. 
But these are not the only class of the man- 
catching fraternity, nor do they confine their 



operations to an exorbitant profit upon pas" 
sage money. The man-catchers keep lodging- 
houses for emigrants — wretched cellars and 
rooms, destitute of comfort and convenience, 
in which they cram them as thickly as the 
place can hold. The extra profits they draw 
iVum this source cannot be inferior in amount 
to their previouslv mentioned gains, and the 
cherished hoards of the poor pay a large per- 
centage to their unscrupulous rapacity. 

In addition to this trade, some of them 
deal in the various articles composing the 
outfit of emigrants, such as bedding, clothes, 
food, cooking utensils, and the nick-nacks 
of all kinds which they can persuade them 
to purchase. Some of the store-keepers in 
this line of business pay their "runners" or 
" man-catchers " as much as ten per cent, com- 
mission on the purchases ett'ected by the 
emigrants, from whicli the reader may form 
some estimate of the enormous plunder that 
must be drained from the poor ignorant peo- 
ple. As every emigrant must provide his 
own bedding, the sale of mattresses, blankets, 
and counterpanes, enters largely into this 
trade. After the bedding is provided, the 
man-catchers, who are principally Irishmen 
themselves, and know both the strength and 
weakness of the Irish character, fasten upon 
their countrymen — many of whom, poor and 
miserable as they look, have sovereigns se- 
curely stitched amid the patches of their 
tattered garments — and persuade them into 
the purchase of various articles, both useful 
and useless. Among these may be mentioned 
clothes of all kinds — shirts, trowsers, waist- 
coats, shawls, petticoats, south-westers, caps, 
boots and slioes, slippers, cooking utensils, 
cans for the daily allowance of water, and 
tins to hold their meal, rice, and sugar. Pro- 
visions, such as bacon, herrings, salt beef, and 
other articles not found them on board, and 
luxuries, in which whiskey and tobacco are 
generally included, come next on the list, 
after reiterated assurances from the man- 
catchers that no emigrant will bo taken on 
board without them. These being provided, 
and an Irishman being easily squeezeable 
when a friend and a countryman is the man- 
catcher who has him in hand, and when he 
fears that his passage-money will be lost for 
non-compliance with the regulations, his 
attention is next directed to such articles as 
pocket-mirrors, razors, bowie-knives, pistols, 
telescopes, etc. 

The stranger in Liverpool, who takes a 
walk in the immediate vicinity of the Water- 



238 



IMMIGRATION. 



loo Dock, whence the greater number of 
emigrant vessels take their departure, will 
see a profuse display of the various articles 
upon which the man-catcher makes his 
gains — articles generally of the most inferior 
quality, and sold at the most extravagant and 
ridiculous prices. The man-catching busi- 
ness, in all its various departments, has been 
reduced to a regular system, and no London 
sharper can be more sharp than the Liverpool 
runners. Perhaps the most complicated and 
ingenious trick is the following : When a 
steam-vessel laden with emigrants leaves an 
Irish port for Liverpool, one of the Liverpool 
fraternity, dressed up as a raw Irishman, with 
the usual long-tailed, ragged, and patched 
gray frieze coat, tlie battered and napless hat, 
the dirty unbuttoned knee-breeches, the black 
stockings, the shillelah, and the short pipe, 
takes his place among them, and pretends to 
be an emigrant. Before the vessel arrives at 
Liverpool he manages to make acquaintance 
with the greater portion of them, learns the 
parish they came from and the names of the 
relatives whom they have left behind, not 
forgetting those of the parish priest and the 
principal people of the neighborhood, lie 
also ascertains the names of the friends in 
America whom they arc going to join. He 
tells them of the roguery of Liverpool, and 
warns them against thieves and man-catchers, 
bidding them take especial care of their 
money. On arriving at the quay, in Liver- 
pool, he jumps ashore among the first, where 
a gang of his co-partners are waiting to re- 
ceive liim. He speedily communicates to 
them all the information he has gained, and 
tlie poor people on stepping ashore are beset 
by atl'ectionate inquiries about their friends 
in Ireland, and that good old man the parish 
priest. They imagine that they liave fortu- 
nately dropped among old acquaintances, 
and their friend of the steamboat takes care 
to infcirni them that he is not going to be 
"done" by the man-catchers, but will lodge 
while at Liverpool at su<di and such a place, 
which he recommends. Thcv cannot imagine 
that men who know all about the priest and 
their friends and relatives can mean them 
any harm, and numbers of them are usually 
led off in triunijih to the most wretched but 
most expensive lodging-houses. Once in the 
power of the man-catchers, a regular siege 
of their pockets is made, and the poor emi- 
grant is victimized in a thousand ways for 
his passage money, for his clothes and uten- 
sils, and for his food. Even after they have 



drained him as dry as they can, they are loth 
to part with him entirely, and they write out 
per next steamer a full, true, and particular 
account of him — his parish, his relations, his 
priest, and his estimated stock of money — to 
a similar gang in New York. Paddy — simple 
fellow — arrives in New York in due time, 
and is greeted on landing by the same affec- 
tionate inquiries. If his eyes have not been 
opened by woeful experience, he thinks once 
more that he has fallen among friends, and 
is led oft' by the " smart" man-catchers of the 
New York gang, to be robbed of the last 
farthing that he can be persuaded to part 
with ; and he is possibly induced to spend 
tlie savings of years in the purchase of land, 
supposed to be in the far west, but having 
no other existence but such as paper and lies 
can give it. 

It must not be supposed, from the state- 
ments in reference to the rogueries practised 
by runners and man-catchers upon the 
.simple, emigrants themselves do not occa- 
sionally endeavor to commit frauds, both 
upon each other and upon the owners and 
captains of ships. The Irish emigrant, with 
the passion for hoarding which is so common 
among liis countrymen, often hides money 
in his rags, and tells a piteous tale of utter 
destitution, in order to get a passage at a 
cheaper rate. The shameless beggary, which 
is perhaps the greatest vice of the lower 
classes of Irish, does not always forsake them, 
even when thev have determined to bid fare- 
well to the old country ; and I have several 
times been accosted by men and women, on 
board emigrant ships in dock, and asked for 
contributions to help them when they got to 
New York. " Sure, yer honor, and may the 
Lord spare you to a long life ; I've paid my 
last farden for my passage," said a sturdy 
Irish woman, with a eliild in her arms, when 
accosted on the qnarter-deck of a fine ship, 
in the Waterloo I>ock, "and when I get to 
New York I shall have to beg in the strates, 
unless yer honor will take pity on me." On 
being asked to show me her ticket, she said 
her husband had it ; and her husband — a 
wretched-loidcing old man — making his ap- 
pearance and repeating the same story, was 
pressed to show the document. He did so 
at last, when it was apparent that he had 
paid upwards of seventeen pounds — eighty- 
two dollars and twenty-live cents — for the 
passage of himself and wife and liis family of 
five children. "And do you mean to say 
that you have no money left V was inquired 



EUROPEAN MIGRATION. 



239 



of him. " Not one blessed penny," said the 
man. " No, uor a faidin," said the woman, 
" and God knows what'll become of us." 
" Do you know nobody in New York ?" " Not 
a living sowle, yer honor." " Have you no 
luggage ?" " Not a stick or a stitch, but the 
clothes we wear." As the good ship was 
detained two days beyond her advertised 
time of sailing, all the emigrants, as usual. 
Lad liberty to pass to and from the ship to 
the streets, as caprice or convenience dicta- 
ted. On the folh.iwing day, this sturdy 
woman and her husband were seen entering 
the Waterloo Dock gates with a donkey-cart, 
tolerably well piled with boxes, bedding, and 
cooking utensils. When they were dcjwn in 
the steerage, and she was asked whether that 
was her luggage, she replied it was. " You said 
yesterday, however, when you were begging, 
that you had no luggage." " Sure, it's a hard 
world, yer honor, and we're poor people — 
God help us." 

An incident of a kind not very dissimilar 
occurred on board of another American liner. 
When the passenger roll was called over, 
it was found that one man, from the county 
of Tipperary, had only paid an instalment 
upon his passage money, and that the sum 
of $6 each for three persons, or |1S, was 
still due from him. On being called upon 
to pay the difference, ho asserted vehemently 
that he had been told in the broker's otiice 
that there was no more to pay, and that to 
ask him for more was to attempt a robbery. 
The clerk insisted upon the money, and 
showed him the tickets of other passengers 
to proxe the correctness of the charge. The 
man then changed his tone, and declared 
that he had not a single farthing left in the 
world, and that it was quite impossible he 
could pay any more. " Then you and your 
family will be put on shore," said the clerk, 
" and lose the money you have already paid." 
The intending emigrant swore lustily at the 
injustice, and declared that if put on shore 
lie would "get an act of Parliament" to put 
an end to such a system of robbery. The 
clerk, however, was obdurate, and the man 
disappeared, muttering as be went that he 
would have his "act of Parliament to pun- 
ish the broker, the clerk, and the captain." 
He returned in a few minutes from below, 
and, without saying a word of what had 
happened, and looking as unconcerned as a 
stranger, coolly presented a £5 note, or 
$24 25, and asked for his change. Such is 
a specimen of the rogueries attempted by 



those who have money. Those w ho really have 
none at all, or who possibly have not suffi- 
cient to pay their passage, resort to other 
schemes for crossing the Atlantic at a re- 
duced rate, or free of charge altogether, and 
"stow away." This is a practice which is 
carried on to a great and increasing extent. 

After encountering these perils of poverty 
and cheating, the crowd becomes finally 
located on board of ship, and assigned their 
quarters for the voyage. It is a strange 
place for the new-comers, and their admiration 
of the new life they have entered upon be- 
gins with the first day's issue of regulation 
food. The experience of most of them in 
the edible way, has hitherto been confined 
to "murphys" or, at most, Indian meal, 
which they heartily detest as " starvation 
porridge." They now come to the allow- 
ances, as above, handed them by law. The 
meal, the tea, the rice, the sugar, and molas- 
ses prove frequently a puzzler — tea in par- 
ticular — and it is not unfrequcntly the case 
that a brawny Pat, who could do a good 
turn at Donnybrook fair, but whose knowl- 
edge of drinkables is confined to whisky, 
will, after gravelv survevint; the tea for a 
while, deliberately fill his pipe with a por- 
tion, and smoke it with much satisfac- 
tion. Others, with more expansive ideas, 
will at times mix the whole in a mass, and 
boil it into a thick soup or pudding, well 
specked with the expanded tea leaves. In- 
formation comes with experience, however, 
and the first serious experience is sea-sick- 
ness, which utterly prostrates them, mind 
and body, aggra\ating every dirty habit 
they may have formed. Then is ex- 
erted the utmost power of the captain to 
enforce cleanliness ; he usually selects a 
dozen or two of the more intelligent, and 
investing them with authority, a general 
turn-out, and a thorough cleaning every 
morning, and in all weathers, is compelled. 

By the rigid observance of this rule, much 
of the former sickness and mortality has 
been avoided. A voyage of some thirty 
days usually brings the human freight with- 
in sight of New York harbor. It almost in- 
variably occurs that in the first delight of 
arrival every utensil and article of bedding 
is pitched overboard. No matter how poor 
are the people, or how hardly the things 
may have been come by, over they go ; and 
cleaning for the landing takes place, llo-vv 
full of anxieties is that landing ! 



240 



IMMIGRATION. 



CHAPTER III. 

LANDING IN NKW-YORK— FUTURE HOMES. 
The Castle Garden, at New York, is allot- 
ted for the reception of the passen<;crs under 
the Commission of Emigration, which was 
organized by law in 1847, and which 
charges a tax of two dollars per head on 
each immigrant, applying the proceeds to 
the support of the needy and destitute 
among them. The operations of this com- 
mission have become very extensive. It has 
charge of the Quarantine. Since its organ- 
ization it has raised large hospitals on 
Ward's Island, where the sick are eared for. 
They are also sent to the Marine Hospital 
and the New York Hospital, and they re- 
imburse the towns and counties of the state 
for the charges they incur for support of 
poor aliens, and advance money to immigrants 
on pledge of baggage, without interest. In 
the year 1S59 82,180 was so advanced to 1G2 
families, and §2,031 was paid back. The 
operations of the commission in 1 859 were : — 

Receipis for comnnitation $159,112 

OlIicm' receipts 2a, 454 



Tcitnl receipts 182. 56G 

BalaDce in liaiid, Januarj', 1859 5,C5G 



Office $16,486 

Hospitals 6,380 

Comities for support 23,555 

Castle Garden 34,721 

Agent at Rochester 1,087 

" Albany 2,160 

" Buffalo 2,601 



$188,2 



Ward's Island 54,890 

Marine Hospital 18,360 

Floatin>r •• 4,647 

Forwarding Immigrants, &c.. Sic. 32,130 

Incidental 721 



NUMBER OF PASSENGERS THAT ARRIVED IN EACH YEAR IS THE CNITED STATES FROM EXOLAND, 
SCOTLAND, GREAT BRITAIN, AND GERMANY, WITH THE TOTAL FROM ALL COUNTRIES. 





Eiifilarnl. 


Ireland. 


Scotland. 


Gt. Britain. 


Germany. 


Switzerland 


Prussia. 


Total. 


1820, 


1,782 


1,725 


268 


2,249 


948 


31 


20 


8,385 


1821, 


1,036 


1,518 


293 


1,881 


365 


93 


18 


9,127 


1822, 


856 


1,346 


198 


1,088 


139 


110 


9 


6,911 


1823, 


851 


1,051 


180 


926 


179 


47 


4 


6,354 


1824, 


713 


1,575 


257 


1,064 


224 


253 


6 


7,912 


1825, 


1,002 


4,157 


113 


1,711 


448 


166 


2 


10,199 


1826, 


1,459 


3,333 


230 


2,705 


495 


245 


16 


10,837 


1827, 


2,521 


3,282 


460 


7,689 


435 


297 


7 


18,875 


1828, 


2,735 


5,266 


1,041 


8,798 


1,806 


1,692 


45 


27,382 


1829, 


2,149 


3,106 


111 


6,228 


582 


314 


15 


22,520 


1830, 


733 


747 


29 


2,365 


1,972 


109 


4 


23,322 


1831, 


251 


1,647 


226 


6,123 


2,395 


63 


18 


22,633 


1832, 


944 


5,120 


158 


11.545 


10,168 


129 


26 


53,179 


1833, 


2,96G 


4,511 


1,921 


4,166 


6,823 


634 


lbs 


58,640 


1834, 


1,129 


6,772 


110 


2G,953 


17,654 


1,389 


32 


65,365 


1835, 


4G8 


5,148 


63 


24,218 


8,245 


548 


66 


45,374 


1836, 


420 


2,152 


106 


41,006 


20,139 


445 


668 


16,2*1 


1837, 


896 


737 


14 


39,079 


23036 


383 


704 


79,3<i0 


1838, 


157 


1,225 


48 


16,G35 


11,369 


123 


314 


38,714 


1839, 


62 


1,199 




32,973 


19,794 


607 


1,234 


68,069 


1840, 


318 


677 


21 


41,027 


88,581 


500 


1,123 


84,066 


1841, 


147 


3,291 


35 


50,487 


13,727 


751 


1,564 


80,289 



$19T,744 

This account gives a general idea of the 1 
operations of the commission. The whole 
amount disbursed by the commission. May i 
5, 1847, to Jan. 1, 1860, was $834,786. The I 
jtroportion who go into hospital appears to 
be about six per cent, of the arrivals. 

A large majority of those who licrc land 
have their friends awaiting them to guide 
them to their future homes. Numbers have 
to seek their way amid numberless perils. But 
nearly all these have come provided with in- 
structions more or less minute, derived from i 
the numerous agents in Europe of the Ameri- 
can land companies, who hold out induce- 
ments to settlers. The Germans are mostly 
inclined to agriculture, and they soon find 
their way, by the emigrant trains of the great .i 
trunk lines of railroads. Those lines liave all i 
exerted themselves to profit by the movement. ' 

The following table, from official sources, 
gives the number of Germans and British 
under each head, and also the aggregate of 
all the aliens arrived since the returns have 
been regularly kept. Some of the passengers 
report themselves from Great Britain, with- 
out stating which portion. These are under 
the head "Great Britain." Thus, the total 
from Great Britain to 1859, is 2,670,059, of 
which, 1,415.399 arc reported from Great 
Britain, 289,654 from England, 918,729from 
Ireland, 46,277 from Scotland. 

IRELAKO, 




IRISIIMKV IN THE COMMON' mrSCIL, XEW YORK. 



LANDING IN NEW YORK FUTURE HOMES. 



241 





England. 


Ireland. 


Scotland. 


Gt. Britain. 


Germany. Switzerlan 


3. Prussia. 


Total. 


1842, 


1,743 


4,844 


24 


66,736 


18.287 


483 


2,083 


104,565 


•1843, 


3,517 


1,173 


41 


23,369 


11,432 


553 


3,009 


52,496 


1844, 


1,357 


5,491 


23 


40,972 


19,226 


839 


1,505 


78,615 


1845, 


1,710 


8,041 


368 


53,312 


33,138 


471 


1,217 


114,371 


1846, 


2,854 


12,949 


305 


57,824 


57,010 


698 


651 


154,416 


1847, 


3,470 


29,640 


337 


95,385 


73,444 


192 


837 


234,968 


1848, 


4,445 


24,802 


659 


118,277 


58,014 


319 


451 


226,527 


1849, 


0,036 


31,321 


1,060 ■ 


175,841 


60,062 


13 


173 


297,024 


1850, 


6,797 


40,180 


860 


167,242 


78,137 


375 


759 


369,980 


1851, 


5,300 


55,874 


966 


210,594 


71,322 


427 


1,160 


379,466 


1852, 


30,007 


159,548 


8,143 


2,544 


143,575 


2,788 


2,343 


371,603 


1853, 


28,867 


102,649 


6,006 


2,703 


140,653 


2,748 


1,293 


368.645 


1854, 


48,901 


101,606 


4,605 


5,141 


206,054 


2,953 


8,955 


427,883 


1855, 


38,871 


49,G27 


5,275 


1,176 


66,219 


4,433 


5,699 


200,877 


1856, 


25,904 


54,349 


3,297 


15,457 


63,807 


1,780 


7.221 


200,436 


1857, 


27,804 


54,361 


4,182 


26,493 


83,798 


2,080 


7,983 


251,306 


1858, 


14,638 


26,873 


1,940 


12,372 


42,291 


1,056 


3,019 


123,126 


1859, 


13,820 


35,216 


2,293 


10,045 


39,315 


833 


2,469 


121,282 


1860, 


13001 


48,637 


1,613 


15,123 


50,746 


913 


3,745 


153,640 


1861, 


8,970 


23,797 


"67 


9,938 


30,189 


1,007 


1,472 


91,920 


1862, 


10,947 


23,351 


657 


13,035 


24,985 


643 


2,544 


91,987 


1863, 


24,065 


55,916 


1,940 


40,878 


31,989 


690 


1,173 


176,282 


1 864, 


26,096 


63.523 


3,476 


23,856 


54,379 


1,896 


2,897 


193,416 


1865, 


15,038 


29,772 


3,037 


64,390 


80,797 


2,859 


2.627 


249,061 


1866, 


2,770 


32312 


672 


95,866 


110,440 


3. 823 


5,452 


318,494 


1867, 




69,977 




55,543 


121,240 


1.168 


12.186 


298,358 


1868, 


11,107 


42,747 


1,949 


51,779 


1 1 1 ,503 


3 261 


11,567 


297,215 


1869, 


55,046 


51.290 


12,415 


28,965 


124,766 


3,488 


22 


395,922 


1870, 


59,488 


56,628 


1 1 .820 


23,153 


91,168 


2,474 


111 


376.314 


792,846 


2,288,198 


128,900 


3,230,880 


3,723,493 


92,609 


155,191 


7,551,383 



We give tlie following table, compiled 
from the immigration returns and the c( nsus 
of 1860, because the ceii.-^us bureau has not 
yet (Jan. 1872) tabulated its returns of this 
character for tlie cen.'ius of 1870. It will be 
understood that the net difference, 'J2o,329, 
between the arrivals for forty years, and the 
residents represents those who have died 
and those who have returned to their native 
countries. It is evident that there must have 
been a very considerable number wiio came 
into the country across tlie lines fiom British 
America and Mexico without being reported 
to the Bureau of Emigration, since the dates 
of emigrants in forty years should alone 
araoinit to more than two-elevenths of the 
whole number, and it has been ascertained 
that in those forty years, full 300,000 return- 
ed to Europe. We may then witli confidence 
state the entire immigration into this coun- 
try from 18-20 to the close of 187<i, as not 
ii., II 8,000,(100. The deficiency colimin 
!'• tab!e below, is |)artly due to the im- 
jieriuction of the census returns, and partly 
to the unwillingness of m:iny emigrants to 
d ou their first arrival their native 
III V. It is noticeable that about one 
li of the whole number of arrivals re- 
, ited in the table, were from Great Britain 
and Ireland. 

15* 



ST.KTEM'^NT OF THE NUMBER OF ALIENS ARRIVET) IN THE tTNITED 
FROM 1820 TO IStiO, BOTH INCLUSIVE, AND THE NDMBER OF 
EACH NATION RESIDENT IN THE UNION BV THE CENSUS OF 1860. 



Countries, 



England 3n2,r>&'-, 

Ireland 967,.366 

Sroland 47,990 

Wales 7,935 

Ut. Britain & Ireland- .1,426,018 



ISL'O Res't ,lfi60, Excess o/ Dcfcifncy 
In IKfiO. Ceitstis. ISItO. ai-rivatg, of arrirala. 



Total. 



France. 



I*ortugaI 

lU'lgium 

Prussia 

(iermany 1 

Holland 

Penmark 

Norw.ay and Sweden 

I'oland 

Russia 

Turkey 

Switzerland '. 

Italy 

Greece 

.Sardinia 

Kurope 

British America . . . 

South America 

Central .\merica. . . , 



,760,874 
208.0113 
16,248 
2,614 
9,862 
60.4.32 
,4815,044 
21,.i79 
6,.'')40 
36.129 
1,659 
1,.374 
170 
37,733 
11,202 
116 
2,030 



AVest Indies 

Chiua 

.\sia 

Africa 

Azores 

Canary Islands 

Sandwich Islands 

Australia 

South Sea Islands 

18 nations not specified, 
Not stated 



117,142 
0,201 

17, TOG 
4 ,4S7 
41,4,3 

289 

3,C42 

2S1 

79 

109 

79 

1,266 

180,854 



l,fill,304 






108,518 






45,703 






1,802 






2.199,079 
109,870 


561,795 




98,193 




4,244 


12,004 




4,116 




1,.502 


9,072 


790 




227,661 




167,229 


1,074,475 


411,669 




28,281 




6,702 


9 962 




4,452 


62,620 




26,491 


7,298 




6,689 


3,160 




1,786 


128 


42 




B3 sn 




16,f94 


10,.'il8 


684 




3-28 




2i2 


1,1-59 


1,659 




1.403 




877 


249.970 




132,828 


S.2'-3 


2.938 




223 


735 




27 466 




9,700 


7.363 


33.1.34 




as.-iia 


5,878 




1,2-31 




l.o.->2 


626 




1S4 


"i'3li 


2,610 




4a5 




.'19 


1,419 




1,310 


286 




203 


1,.366 


179 488 





Total aliens 6,062,414 

Excess of arrivals 



4,136,175 1,301,419 376,090 
926,329 



242 



IMMinRATION. 



Let us next see where these emigrants 
make their homes on this side the ocean. 
Here again we must take the census of ISGO 
for the details, sis the Census Bureau is not 
likely to furnish those of 1870 for a year 
or two to come. Tlie larger part of the Irish 
it will be seen, settled in tiie New England 
and Middle States, over ], 100,000 of the 



1,600,000 remaining in these States. Of the 
Germans a large proportion migrated west- 
ward and have establishei] themselves in the 
Mississippi and Missouri valleys, and con- 
siderable numbers have gone to the Pacific 
coast. The Scandinavians have settled Isiri;!-. 
ly in the northwest. The "total" column 
includes emigrants of all nationalities: — 



states and Territorie.f. Englnnd. 

Alabama 1 , 1 74 

Arkansas 375 

California 12,227 

Connecticut 8,875 

Delaware 1,581 

riorlda .^20 

Geor<iia 1,122 

Illinois 41,745 

Indiana 9,3U4 

Iowa 11 ,522 

Kansas 1,400 

Kentucky 4,503 

Louisiana 3,989 

Maine 2 677 

Maryland 4,235 

Ma.ssachnsetts 23,848 

Michigan 25,743 

Minnesota 3,462 

Mississippi 844 

Missouri 10,009 

New Hampshire 2,291 

New Jer-sey 1 5,852 

New York 106,01 1 

'North Carolina 729 

Ohio 32,700 

Oregon 690 

Pennsylvania 46,546 

Rhode Island 6,:i56 

South Carolina 757 

Tennessee 2,001 

Texas 1 ,695 

Vemiont 1 ,632 

Virginia 4,104 

Wisconsin 30,543 

Colorado Territory 352 

Dakota Territory 35 

District of Columbia 1 ,0.30 

Nebraska Territory 1 ,47 1 

Nevada Territm-y 294 

New Mexico Territory. . , , 145 

Utah Territory 7,084 

Washini;ton Territory.... 419 

Total 431,692 





Great Britain 






Sweden & 


Totll 


Ireland. 


not speci 


Sed. Germany. 


Prus.sia. 


Switzerland- Norway. 


Foreign. 


5,664 


5 


2,209 


392 


138 


206 


12,352 


1,312 


8 


989 


1.54 


42 


30 


3,741 


33,147 


103 


17,002 


4,644 


1,714 


2,120 


146,528 


55,445 


50 


7,311 


1,214 


275 


64 


80.C9I) 


5,832 


.... 


997 


266 


34 


8 


9,16.5 


827 


3 


404 


74 


13 


42 


3,309 


6 586 


• • . . 


2,017 


455 


62 


50 


11,671 


87,573 


669 


106,257 


24.. 54 7 


5,748 


11,361 


324 64.! 


24,495 


21 


54,638 


12007 


3,813 


367 


118,184 


28,072 


23 


30,758 


7,797 


2,519 


7,153 


106.0s; 


3,888 


7 


3,788 


5.30 


260 


345 


12,691 


22,2J9 


2 


24,263 


2,964 


7.53 


53 


59.799 


28,207 


1 


21,875 


2,7.-;9 


878 


2.-.6 


81,029 


15,290 


37 


307 


77 


13 


101 


37,45.3 


24,872 


.... 


41,057 


2,827 


177 


55 


77,.536 


185,434 


294 


8,479 


1 ,482 


.335 


856 


260,114 


30,049 


11 


29,152 


9,635 


1,269 


706 


149,092 


12,831 


4 


12,423 


5,977 


1,085 


11,603 


58,7i8 


3,893 


1 


1,691 


317 


138 


36 


8,5.'i8 


43,464 


114 


64,795 


23,692 


4,585 


385 


160,541 


12,737 


2 


322 


90 


12 


25 


20,9.18 


62.006 


1 


.30,881 


2,891 


1,144 


1,53 


122,790 


498,072 


131 


227,226 


29,036 


6,166 


2,217 


998,640 


889 


.... 


696 


69 


10 


13 


,3,299 


76,826 


148 


151,093 


17,117 


11,078 


136 


328,2.')4 


1,266 


5 


856 


222 


71 


99 


5,122 


201,939 


14 


123,801 


14,443 


4,404 


533 


430,505 


25,285 


• • . . 


728 


87 


37 


71 


37, .394 


4,906 


1 


2,595 


352 


33 


42 


9,986 


12,498 


3 


3,515 


354 


566 


46 


21,226 


3,480 


27 


14,318 


6,235 


453 


479 


43,422 


13,480 


42 


205 


14 


4 


1 


32,743 


16,501 


32 


9,561 


564 


267 


65 


35,058 


49,961 


24 


70,896 


52,983 


4,722 


22,115 


276,927 


624 


1 


522 


54 


25 


39 


2,666 


42 




22 




1 


129 


1,774 


7,258 


.... 


3,025 


229 


97 


17 


12,484 


1,431 


2 


1,.346 


396 


228 


173 


6,3.')l 


651 


• • * . 


388 


66 


19 


57 


2,064 


827 


1 


445 


124 


27 


5 


6,723 


278 


5 


139 


19 


78 


355 


12,754 


1,217 


10 


483 


89 


34 


55 


3,144 



1,611,304 1,802 1,073,475 227,661 53,327 62,620 4,136,175 



The census of 1870 makes the whole num- 
ber of persons of foreign birth in the United 
States in June, 1870, 5,.'566,.'J46, being an 
increase of 1,427,849, in the ten years, while 
the actual immigration of that ten years was 
about 2,350,000. 

The statement of the number of persons 
of foreign birth in the dirtereut states and 
territories in 1870, reveals some interesting 
facts. Of the territories Idaho has the larg- 



est population of foreigners, over one-half, 
while Montana and Utah have each about 
two-fifths ; of the states, Nevada has three- 
sevenths, Minnesota four-elevenths. Califor- 
nia five-fourteenths, Wisconsin a little mors 
than a third, and New York about three- 
elevenths. Several other states range be- 
tween one-fourth and one-fifth foreignsR. 
The Southern states, though increasing 'heir 
foreign population, have not a large sbare. 



LANDING IN NEW YORK — FUTURE HOMES. 



2^3 



The amount ®f money or capital drawn 
rora Euro|)e by the emigrants is a question 
)i' much importance. Tlie cost of prepara- 
ion for the voyage in Europe, the cot of 
lie passage, and tiie expenses incurred atler 
irriving until the new home is finally reach- 
Id, cannot, together, fall short of one hundred 
iollars each ; and many have a small capital 
1 addition, with whicii to begin the world, 
'he sums transported are often much larger. 
n 1854 the migration from the Palatinate, 
s stated in a IJremen report, was 8,908, and 
ley carried $1,02-1:.00(). The reports of the 
Jew York commissioners of emigration as 
le result of their investigation, show that the 
verage of money brought is very near one 
undied dollars per head — an amount which 
ecome-i formidable when taken in connec- 
on vi'ith the aggregate numbers arriving, 
'his is exhibited ia the following summary 
f arrivals : — 



Whole Number Sums at 

No. of of SlOO 

Arriyala. Aliens. per he:id, 

m years to Sept. 30, 1829, 151,1533 ]2.S,o02 1^,S.J0,2IX) 

^ ' " 1S3.I, 572,710 ,')33,3S1 53,S3-i,100 

' " ISW 1.479,478 1,427,337 142,733,71X1 

' Dee. 31, 1859; 3,1)7.5,900 2,614,.=>54 231,455.400 

lovcn y'rs to Dec. 31, 1870, 2,856,341 2,451,701 245,170,100 



Total. 



, 3,130,071 7,360,475 733,047,500 



This is an immense sum, anil poured forth 
I'en in small streams, has had an important 
feet upon tlie prosperity of the country at 
,rge, independent of the larger sums invested 
I land, stock, and utensils. On the otlier 
and, very considerable sums are sent out of 
le country in aid of the emigrants, by their 
■lends here, who liave earned the money at 
jrvice and olherwise. Qn this point, iii- 
irmation has from time to time been gath- 
■ed, ol the houses through which remittances 
[■e made. These remittances are mostly 
jnall drafts, purcha-ed in New York, for 
jims varying from five to one hundred dol- 
irs. The latter sum is sehloin reached, 
owever. The remittances of five of these 
puses, in one year, were as follows : — 



ouse A, number of drafts, 1,934 

• B, " " 6,193 

C, ' " 13,425 

D, " " 13,175 

E, " " 40,542 



Arerage 
amount. 

$.32,125 S16 5-8 
123,291) 19 7-8 

286,395 19 7-8 

363,140 19 9-10 

810,835 20 



Total 5 houses 1 year, 80,274 $1,595,785 

These do not include the large banking- 
'ouses, of which there are no returns, but it 
i said the Baring Brothers alone send 



$2,500,000. The British emigrant commis- 
sioners reported in thirteen years endino- 
witli 1860, «f5G,I91,733 sent to the United 
Kingdom .alone, and this increasing amount 
continued till 1857. 

With the renewal, on a large scale, of em- 
igration after the war, the amounts sent 
largely increased, and amounted to more 
than S20,0!K:),000 per annum. This is not 
now returned to this country as passage 
money, for nearly all the emigrant ships are 
owned in Great Britain or in Germany. 
The United States gold coin exported to 
England and Germany is bought up to some 
extent by emigrants, but not as much as for- 
merly. The aggregate amount of money 
brought here by immigrants in the fifty-one 
years ending Dec. 31, 1870, was, as we have 
seen, S736,000,000. Deducting at least 
$230,000,000 for remittances made from 
this side to the families of emigi-ants, there 
still remains the large sum of $500,000,000 
brought here by immigrants, besides their 
productive labor after their arrival. 

The legal rights of the emigrants, after 
they become naturalized, are the same in 
all respects as tiiose of the native born citi- 
zens, with the single exception that they are 
not eligible to the office of president or 
vice-president of the United States. No 
law can be passed to abridge the freedom of 
their speech, or the free exercise of their re- 
ligion, whatever they may be — even the en- 
joyment of Mormonism has been an attrac- 
tion to some. Tiieir right to liold real es- 
tate is perfect, as is the security afforded to 
persons, property, and papers, and they may 
be elected, or may elect to any office except 
those named. 

Another very interesting feature of the 
passenger movement, although not strictly 
embraced within the emigration, is the num- 
ber of United States citizens who annually 
arrive from abroad. It is not until within 
a few years that a record has been kept of 
the number of citizens who go abroad each 
year, but the arrivals of passengers, not im- 
migrants, is an interesting item. 



NUJIBEn OF NATIVE CITIZENS AND FOREIGN VIS- 
ITORS (not im.migkants) arriving 

FROM ABROAD. 



Males. 

1820-1830, 19,542 

1830-1840, 2.).036 

1840-1850, 38,952 

1850-1860, 224,410 

1869-1871, 99,373 



Females. Not stated. Total. 

3,529 62 «3,134 

7,288 31 34,345 

12,999 190 52.141 

36,924 ... 261,348 

52,030 ... 151,403 



244 



IMMIGRATION. 



The number of departures for Europe is, 
Iiowever, much greater than tlie arrivals of 
passensers not emigrants. For the year 
ending June 30, 187(i, it w.is : Males, 60,50.5, 
Females, 21,408, Total, 8 1,9 13. This was 
about an average year — the departures in 

1869 being somewhat fewer, and those of 
1871 considerably larger. It would be a 
very moderate estimate of the amount ex- 
pended or carried with these outgoing pas- 
sengers to fix it at $1,"200 per head, and yet 
this would give $98,295,600 as the amount 
of money taken out of the country in a sin- 
gle year by European voyagers. 

The numbers of former emigrants who 
returned home with accumulated means, ad- 
ded to the sum-! expended abroad by Amer- 
icans, will probably at least cancel the 
amounts actually brought into the country 
by emigrants. But the vast amount of pro- 
ductive skill and labor that is brought into 
the country, .and applied to the vast waste of 
land, develops more capital in a ratio which 
astonishes the observer. The number of 
persons who arrive in the United States in a 
single year, equals the population of a whole 
state. Thus the number that arrived in 

1870 were 436,496 : the total white popula- 
tion of the state of Minnesota was, in 1870, 



439,706, and there were nine states which 
contained a smaller number of population. 
From 1859, the tide of immigration, which 
for two or three years previous had ebbed, 
began to flow again in something like its old 
abundance, and, though checked in 1861 and 
1862 by the war and the presence of rebel 
privateers in the Atlantic, it soon increased 
again, and from 1863 to 1871 has been very 
large. In 1860, the whole number of alien 
emigr.ants was 153,640. In 1861, it was 
only 91,920; in 1862, 91,987; in 1863, 
176,282; in 1864, 193,416; in 1865, 249,- 
061; in 1866, 318,494; in 1867, 298,358; 
in 1868, 297.215; in 1869, 395,922; in 
1870, 436,496; in 1871, 386,271. It is a 
noteworthy fact that the later immigrants, 
those of the last six or seven years, are, 
socially and 4)ecuniarily, of a much higher 
class than those of former years. A very 
large iirojjortion of them are well, or at least 
tolerably educated, and many of them pos- 
sess sutncient means to enable them to go 
to the West and procure farms, or engage 
in other employments. Of the immigrants 
in 1871, 82,554 werefi'om Germ.any, 57,439 
from Ireland, 56,530 from England, 28,925 
from Great Britain, not specified, and 160,823 
from other countries. 



SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



INTRODUCTORY. 

Three quarters of a century ago, there 
were in the whole United States only about 
as many people as there are now in the state 
of Now York ; and now we have grown from 
less than four millions to thirty millions — 
having increased nearly eight-fold. 

Those large numbers will indistinctly rep- 
resent the general progress of the nation ; 
and the average social prosperity of each 
citizen has increased in a ratio materially 
larger. The actual amount of this increase 
in intelligence, wealth, and comfort, cannot 
be set down in figures, but will be under- 
stood as well as the case will permit, from 
an enumeration of details of improvements 
in social and domestic life. 

There were sufiicient reasons for a some- 
what uncommonly low average of comfort 
at the end of the Revolution. The seven 
years* war had, of course, almost destroyed 
all industry, except farming and a few indis- 
pensable manufactures and trades. It had 
also drained all the specie out of the country, 
or frightened it into secret hoards ; in con- 
sequence of which the currency was entirely 
disorganized. Government credit was at 
such a low ebb, that the bills of the Unit- 
ed States (known as " continental money") 
would not purchase even such articles of 
comfort or luxury as existed, except at enor- 
mous nominal rates ; nor was the paper 
money of the separate states in much bettor 
reputation. Thus, a hundreil dollars in these 
depreciated bills was paid for a nmg of ci- 
der; five hundred dollars for a bowl of 
punch ; a thousand dollars for a pair of 
shoes ; twenty-seven thousand dollars for an 
ordin.iry horse ; and " part of an old shirt" 
was set in an inventory at fifteen dollars. 
The worthlessness of this money rendered 
it necessary to niake payments, to a great 
extent, in barter — a mode of trading which 
always keeps the average of comfort and 
luxury down at a standard little above that 
of the better class of savages. 



But even if this paper currency had been 
worth its face, or if specie had been plenty, 
it would have been possible to buy only a 
small share of comforts or luxuries compared 
with those now attainable, for the plain rea- 
son that they did not exist. 

Beginning at this low period of average 
prosperity, we shall now rapidly sketch the 
progress of the country, up to the present 
time, under the general heads of 

1. Domestic Architecture. 

2. Furniture. 

3. Food. 

4. Dress. 

5. Mental culture, intercourse, etc. 



CHAPTER I. 

DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. 

Eighty years ago, houses were much more 
evenly distributed over the country than is 
now the case. There has ever since been a 
continual tendency to draw together into 
towns ; and this tendency has been much 
assisted by the increased ease of travelling 
and transportation. At that time, therefore, 
there was much less difference between a 
country house and a city house than at 
present. 

In the older parts of the northern states, 
the houses then built were often of the .style 
called "lean-to," or "linter;" that is, with 
one side of the roof carried down so far as 
to cover an additional tier of rooms on the 
ground floor, or a wide shed. Another com- 
mon style, rather later in use, was the "gam- 
bril roofed," where the roof rose at a very 
steep pitch from the eaves, about half the 
length of the rafters, and then fell in to the 
ridge-pole at a much flatter angle. This 
gave a very roomy garret. Dormer win- 
dows were very common, to light rooms fin- 
ished ofl" in the garrets. 

Timber was plenty, and houses were built 



246 



SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



almost exclusively of wood, and often with 
beams and rafters of dimensions that would 
now seem truly enormous. Brick was com- 
paratively little used, until lumber grew 
scarcer in the older parts of the country, 
and "brick machines," first invented by 
Kinsley a little before 1 800, had rendered 
the production of brick more rapid and 
cheaper than could be afforded by hand la- 
bor. Stone was scarcely used at all, except 
by a very few wealthy persons. Sometimes 
the spaces between the timbers of a frame 
house were filled in with brick, so as to 
make a sort of brick body to the house, with 
wooden bones, and with the clapboards put 
on over these. 

A beam was very often left running across 
the ceiling of a room, six or eight inches be- 
low the plaster, and was a convenient place 
for driving nails or pegs on which to hang 
dried apples, seed-corn, peppers, hams, bas- 
kets, rope, etc., etc. In like manner the 
uprights often projected into the corner of 
the room, giving it a kind of coarse cornice. 
The centre of the house was usually occu- 
pied by the chimney stack — an immense 
pile of brick or stone, sometimes occupying 
almost a quarter of the ground plan. In the 
different sides of this huge mass opened the 
great old-fashioned fire-places, in many of 
which one could sit in the corner while the 
fire burned, and see the sky through the 
chimney-top. Half a cord of wood might 
burn at once in some of these great fire- 
places, and yet, in the bitter cold of a north- 
ern winter, water would freeze at the other 
side of the room. This was by reason of 
the thinness of the walls, the imperfect fit- 
ting of doors and windows, and above all, 
the great proportion of heat that went otf 
up chimney, and of cold that came down. 
Hinged to staples at the chimney-back was 
a crane, witii its pot-hooks and hangers, or 
trammels, to accommodate the machinery 
of the cook. At one side of the fire-place 
was the oven — a cave in the masonry of the 
chimney-stack — and, usually, with an ash- 
hole underneath it. A great shovel, or 
"slice," with a handle five or six feet long, 
and a big pair of tongs to match, were for 
oven use ; and to heat this affair thoroughly 
enough to bake bread, usually occupied an 
hour or an hour and a half, and consumed 
two or three good armfuls of dry wood. 

Houses were commonly low " between 
joints," to economize heat. Roofs were 
shingled, with split shingles ; the sawed 



shingles being little used until a little after 
18(10, from which time many patents for 
shingle sawing were taken out. A machine 
for getting out shingles was patented, how- 
ever, as early as 1797. Slate roofs were not 
much used, and tiles scarcely at all. Cy- 
press wood is H.-ed for shingles at the south, 
instead of pine ; exposure to the weather 
turns it to a distinct, but disaL'reeable Mack. 
Sheet tin has been extensively used for roof- 
ing, but very often leaks badly from tiie 
rusting, expansion, and contraction of the 
tin. Since 1840, oiled or tarred canvas^ 
asphalt, asbestos, mineral paint, tarred felt 
or paper, heavily coateil wiih gravel, etc., 
have been used in place of shingles, or tin, 
and some of them with good success. Since 
the introduction of the Mansard or French 
roofs, ^late is more used, and recently enam- 
eled sheet iron, imitating slate, has become 
quite common. 

A modern invention in domestic anliifec- 
ture is the plan of building what are called 
" gravel walls," by moulding gravel and 
loose stone with mortar, into a kind of con- 
crete wall on the spot, lifting up the mould- 
ing eases v~hen the contents are firmly set, 
and moulding another section. This results 
in a house which may be said to be of one 
stone, for if the materials are good, and 
well ]iut together, they harden into an arti- 
ficial breccia. This ])lan has not, however, 
been sufficiently proved ; and a wrong choice 
of sand, gravel, or lime lias often caused 
the crumbling and ruin of the whole fabric. 

Walls were usually finished inside with 
whitewash, paper, or paint ; thi; use of stucco, 
or "hard finish," being rare until within the 
past thirty years. All house iron-work and 
trimmings of a better kind were imported 
from England, until within the present cen- 
tury. Wrought nails were u-ed.; cut nails 
having been invented, and their manufacture 
variously perfected by several Americans, 
from about 1791, when the earliest jtatent 
on the subject was issued, down to the pres- 
ent time. Jacob Perkins, of Newburyport, 
and Byington, of Connecticut, were two of 
the most prominent inventors in this line. 
Such latches, hinges, etc., as were then 
made in this country, were wrought iron, 
and clumsy and inconvenient. All these 
trimmings are, bowever, now manufactured 
to great perfection in our ow-n workshops. 
Among the improvements of the last forty 
years in house trimmings, a convenient one 
is the introduction of weights running over 



DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. 



247 



allies, to facilitate opening and shutting 
nndows. Before these were used, the prac- 
ice was to use various kinds of catches, ail 
if which made it necessary to lift the whole 
ifeight of the sash ; and instead of which 
fere often found merely a wooden button 
turn under, and hold the sash open, or 
ven nothing but a stick to hold it up. 

Tlie invention of the planing machine, 
irst successfully introduced by William 
iVoodworth in 1837, though many patents 
lad preceded his, and of the circular saw, 
irst patented by Cox, of Georgia, in 1795, 
vere important improvements in dressing 
umber, and cutting it ; as the former could 
urn out boards smoothed, tongued and 
rrooved, and fit for flooring, and the latter 
bould cut thin work much more cheaply 
than a common saw movement. Another 
pachine has been introduced since the year 
1840, for boring auger holes, and others 
"or cutting wooden mouldings, which save 
ueh time and labor in liainiug and in 
nishing respectively. During the last 
.wenty-five yeais, also, various new paints 
lave been introduced, none of which, how- 
jever, have entirely superseded the old-fash- 
ioned oil vehicle and ordinary mineral 
colors. Of these, the principal are prepara- 
tions of zinc, to be used instead of lead, and 
also for a variety of browns and grays ; and 
several "mineral paints," usually finely 
pulverized stone, which are recommended as 
good defences against fire. 

The improvement of the last twenty years 
in architectural designs has been great. Up 
to that time, dwelling houses were built in 
the north most frequently on a plain paral- 
lelogram plan with the common ridge-pole 
roof. A style at that time quite frequently 
adopted for houses of a somewhat preten- 
tious character was that of a Greek temple, 
usually with a row of pillars across one end. 
This absurd misapplication did not flourish 
long, and was succeeded by the Gothic 
cottage style ; and this again, and with ex- 
tensive and well deserved success, by the 
various modifications of the Italian villa style. 
In cities where land is very expensive, two 
styles largely prevail ; the English basement 
house in which the ground floor is occupied 
by a library or reception room, and a dining 
room ; the kitchen, storeroom, and cellar, be- 
ing in the basement, and the parlors and bed 
rooms on tlie second and ihird floors ; and the 
" high stoop basement," almost wholly above 
ground, containing the dining room, kitchen, 



&c., with cellar beneath. The first floor is 
occui)ied with the parlors and lioudoir, and 
the bedrooms are above. The latter is 
the better of the two, but both require as- 
cending at:d descending too many flights of 
stairs, unless Bridget is allowed to reign 
supreme in all parts of the house. Vesti- 
bules or recessed entrances are almost uni- 
versal in these houses. 

A very common arrangement of old-fash- 
ioned houses was to set the house with the 
side toward the street, with the front door 
in the middle, opening into a little vestibule. 
From this tlie stairs passed up, often turning 
round three sides of the vestibule ; and at 
each side a door led to two front rooms. 
These, often occupying all the ground floor 
of the two-story part, were parlors, or a par- 
lor and a bed-room. Behind these, under 
the " lean-to" roof, was very probably one 
long room, used as kitchen, nursery, and 
sitting-room ; for the parlor was used only 
for great occasions. The second floor was 
laid ott" as might be convenient. 

The l)etter houses of the southern states 
were Imilt to suit the dififerent demands of 
the climate — more airily, and usually with 
much piazza room, and not much provision 
for warmth. Early settlers in the south and 
west invariably put up log houses, whose 
chimneys were built outside against one end, 
of sticks laid in clay. A mode often used 
was to build two separate square rooms of 
logs, and then to throw one roof over both 
and the space between, thus securing an out- 
door shelter. These log houses were floored 
with " puncheons," that is, small logs split 
once and hewed even. A standing table of 
puncheons, some three-legged stools, a rude 
bedstead, with a bed o*" leaves or corn- 
husks covered with buft'alodiide or bear-skins 
instead of sheet, blanket, and coverlet ; a 
shelf, and a variety of pegs driven into the 
wall, completed almost the entire outside 
and inside of these rugged, but comfort- 
able liomes, the nurseries of so many brave 
and great men. In such houses were born 
and brought up Andrew Jackson, Henry 
Clay, and the numberless heroic Indian 
fighters and mighty hunters of the west. 
And such houses are still the liomes of 
thousands of the bold pioneers who are ad- 
vancing westward, carrying forward the 
limits of civilized society toward the Pacific 
ocean. As the newer states increase in 
population and wealth, the domestic architec- 
ture of the older ones is copied, and dwell- 



248 



SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



ing houses of the same general character are 
now commonly used in city and country. 

Among the chief improvements in domes- 
tic architecture are those which have been 
applied to modes of warming houses. The 
earliest improvement on the ancient fire- 
place was the Franklin stove, invented by 
the great philosopher whose name it bears, 
and which was in use before the revolution- 
ary war. These were only shallow iron fire- 
places, with a draft which could be modified 
by a sort of valve, and were used only for 
wood. Large box-stoves, also for wood, 
■were the first means used for warming 
churches. Even these were not introduced 
until within the memory of many persons 
now living, and, as is well known, were vio- 
lently resisted by the conservatives, who 
fought hard to retain the privilege of morti- 
fying the flesh by freezing fingers and toes 
all day Sunday. 

The introduction of anthracite coal was 
the next step in this department. This had 
been known for years to the hunters and 
trappers of the wild interior of Pennsylva- 
nia, as a black stone sometimes found on the 
mountains, but was not thought combustible, 
any more than granite. 

Some successful attempts had, however, 
been made to burn anthracite ; one by Dr. 
C. T. James, in 1804 ; and one by Judge 
Jesse Fell, of WilkesbatTc, who burned it in 
a grate, in 1808. This brought it gradually 
into use in that vicinity. In" 1814, White 
& Hazard, iron-masters in Carbon county, 
bituminous coal becoming scarce, resolved 
to try anthracite in their rolling mill. They 
got a cart-load, at a dollar a bushel, and 
wasted it all in vain endeavors to kindle it. 
Procuring another load, they tried again ; 
but after fruitless endeavors for a whole 
night, the hands shut the furnace door in 
despair and left the mill. Half an hour 
afterward, one of them came back after his 
jacket, and to his surprise found the fur- 
nace door red-hot, and the inside at a strong 
white heat. The discovery was made ; and 
with the use of a similar let-alone policy in 
kindling, anthracite was afterward used in 
furnaces with entire success, an improve- 
ment in quality of product, and a large 
saving of expense. 

Thus introduced, the use of the new fuel 
gradually spread, although so slowly that in 
1820, three hundred and sixty-five tons com- 
pletely stocked the Philadelphia market 
for a year. Many patents were now taken 



out for grates, blowers, cooking-stoves, par- 
lor and hall stoves, ranges, and hot-air fur- 
naces. R. Trexler, of Berks county, manu- 
fiictured stoves for anthracite in 1815 ; and 
the earliest patent for furnaces seems to have 
been that of Thomas Gregg, of Connells- 
ville. Pa., in 1814. Three or four years 
now brought the new fuel into extensive 
use, and from the three hundred and sixty- 
five tons, which was all that was mined in 
1820, the amount had risen in 1849, in 
thirty years, to 3,2."jO,000 tons, and to 12,- 
211,313 tons in 1870, together with nearly 
an equal quantity of bituminous coal. 

Nott's stoves were early much used for 
warming houses with anthracite ; Olmsted's 
stove and Bushnell's were in fashion next; 
the first invented by a college president, the 
second by a college professor, and the third 
by an eminent clergyman. These have 
been superseded by the base-burning stoves 
and furnaces, of which there is a variety. 
About the year 183G, Isaac Orr, a man of 
jjreat inventive talent, patented the air-tight 
stove for wood, which was for a time so 
extensively used as to cause a sort of inte^ 
regnum in the reign of anthracite, and 
which is yet frequently seen. Grates, long 
used in England to burn the bituminous 
coal there, were early adapted to anthracite, 
and their cheerful open appearance has kept 
them to some extent in vogue. Hot-air 
furnaces were also invented, as early, at 
least, as 1813; but various faults, from the 
too great fierceness and dryness of the heat, 
imperfect defence against fire, etc., rendered 
them on the whole quite unsatisfactory, un- 
til about 1840, when great improvements 
began to be made ; and many of the fur- 
naces now employed aft'ord a bountiful sup- 
ply of air, almost fresh from out-doors, and 
not too warm and dry for health. 

Apparatuses have also been devised for 
heating buildings by systems of hot-water 
pipes, and by systems of steam pipes ; of 
which the latter, especially in manufacturing 
establishments, offices, public rooms, etc., 
succeed very well, though the heat would 
sometimes be somewhat too slowly difi'used 
for private residences. 

Until within twenty years, scarcely any 
care had been given to the ventilation of any 
buildings, whether public or private. At 
earlier periods, an abundant circulation of 
air was secured by the open chimney, 
through which a strong current of warm air 
continually rushed up, taking, as has been 




MOrJERX STYLES OF FURXITDEE. 



FURNITURE FURNISHING GOODS, ETC. 



249 



computed, at least nine-tenths of all the heat 
with it. With the introduction of stoves 
and furnaces, this ventilator .was closed, and 
the air of warm rooms became unhealthily 
dry and hot, or vitiated by use, especially in 
schools, ball-rooms, court-rooms, public as- 
semblies, etc. Many disorders were aggra- 
vated or made more common by this state 
of things ; such as headaches, nervous affec- 
tions, and lung complaints. Various plans 
of ventilation have been adopted to remedy 
these evils, but the principles of the science 
of pneumatics are even yet so imperfectly 
understood that no entirely satisfactory sys- 
tem of ventilation has yet been devised. 
The modes formerly used for large public 
buildings, such as churches : an opening at 
the ceiling, with a device outside ibr form- 
ing an upward current by the help of the 
wind ; in private houses, openings at the 
si<les of rooms, communicating indirectly 
with the external air ; and wdiere hot-air 
furnaces were used, a pipe supplying air 
from without, which is warmed by the 
furnace, and passed on into the apart- 
ments, are now to a considerable extent 
giving place to a forced and downward ven- 
tilation, which more eflectually removes the 
foul air, and avoids a cun;ent of cold air 
near the floor. 

Tlie use of gas for lighting streets and 
hou>e-i was first invented by an Englishman 
named Murdoch, and tried at Redruth, in 
Cornwall, in 1793. It was first introduced 
in the city of New York by the old New 
York Gas Company, chartered in 1823. It 
is now used iii most of our cities, and its 
deprivation would be thought a very serious 
misfortune. 

All cquall\% and indeed much more labor- 
saving and convenient improvement in our 
modern domestic architectural arrangements, 
is the introduction of water from water 
works. Water works were commenced in 
New York before the Revolution, in 1774 ; 
but none were erected there until 1797, 
« hen the Manhattan Company put up a res- 
ervoir on what is now Chambers street. 
These small works were superseded by the 
Croton acjueduct, opened in 1842. Phila- 
delphia was first supplied by a steam engine 
in 1799; and this was replaced by the 
celebrated Fairmount works, commenced in 
1811. Almost all our larger or more enter- 
prising cities are now provided with aque- 
ducts. 

The fountains thus set flowins; in our 



houses save all water-carrying, for bathing 
or cleaning purposes, either up or down 
stairs ; for a proper connection with a sew- 
erage system will admit of a sink as well as 
a water pipe in every story. The burden- 
some daily details of housework arc thus 
very greatly lightened, and health, and time, 
and exertion very much economized by the 
various appliances of the modern city bath- 
room. 

Within fifteen years, there have been in- 
troduced into many of the more luxurious 
city houses, hoistways, somewhat like those 
used in stores, but upholstered, and, in f:ict, 
fitted up like little rooms ; these are raised 
and lowered so as to save the exertion of 
using the stairs, and are exceedingly con- 
venient for the old and feeble. 

This brief enumeration oF improvements 
in domestic architecture could not properly 
include what may, however, in conclusion, 
be merely mentioned ; that is, those large 
and splendidly finished houses which are 
erected by the great millionaires of the pres- 
ent day. The costly frescoes, the statues, 
the extravagant splendor of their fitting, 
the picture-galleries, conservatories, libra- 
ries, etc., etc., though good and beautiful 
in themselves, are exceptions, but have been 
greatly multiplied within the past fifteen or 
twenty years. 



CHAPTER II. 

FURNITURE— FURNISHING GOODS, ETC. 

The furniture of country dwellings during 
the latter part of the last century was scantier 
than now, and, on the whole, of nnich 
cheaper quality and poorer make, although 
that of the wealthy was often handsomely 
designed, well and massively made, and 
heavily and tastefully ornamented. Little 
machinery was used in manufacturing fur- 
niture, which had, therefore, to be made 
by hand labor. This made patterns moio 
numerous, as one design usually served lor a 
single side-board, set of chairs, etc., and for 
those made by one workman only ; while 
now, one pattern may serve for thousands of 
sets. There was, therefore, greater variety, 
and often remarkably fine workmanship, and 
even artistic skill. The greater cheapness 
of wood, and the little use made of veneer- 
ing, occasioned much furniture to be made 
of solid wood. Many pieces of this ancient, 



250 



SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



solid furniture now bring extravagant prices 
at auction, or from a second hand slore, 
where chance supplies a bu3'er with tasle 
and means. As nuich as forty, or even six- 
ty doll irs each have been given for old- 
fashioned, carved, mahogany chairs ; from 
twenty-five to fifty dollars for a tall clock, 
etc.. etc. 

The increase in the supply of nionc}-, the 
decrease of any distinction between classes 
of society, and the general dilfusion of 
wealth and comfort, render the diti'erence 
between the furniture of the rich, and that 
of the poor, much less at the present day 
than formerly. Comparatively few luxuries 
of any kind are now accessible to the rich, 
which are not so to the farmer and the me- 
chanic. This is not, of course, to be under- 
stood of the very poor, nor the very rich ; 
nor of the most e.\pensive luxuries; for 
Uobelin carpets an inch thick, marble stat- 
ues, and |)ictures by great artists, Johannis- 
beig wine, Strasbuig pies, and the like, can 
never be possessed except by ver}' few. 

The bedsteads of our grandparents and 
great-grandparents were very commonly 
"four-posters;" that is, they consisted of 
four tall posts, into which were framed the 
side and end pieces. These posts often sup- 
ported a wooden frame covered with cloth, 
somewhat like a roof, and called a "tester," 
from whose four sides hung down the cur- 
tains. Feather beds were universally used. 
Sheets were of linen ; and coverlets of patch- 
work, raarseilles, chintz, etc. 

Carpets were comparatively little used ; 
most people contenting themselves with a 
floor, washed clean, sanded, or, at most, 
painted. The carpets used eighty years ago 
were mostly linglish or Scotch ingrain, though 
a good many home-ma<le rag-carpets were 
also used ; and the price per yard was, per- 
haps, S1.5IJ to I>1.'75; not varying very much 
from the present price of a fair article, though 
the same sum represented more value then. 
There is a well-known anecdote of an honest 
old farmer who was one day introduced, for 
the first time, to a carpeted room. The car- 
pet, as was usual in those days, was a sort 
of patch in the middle of the room, sur- 
rounded with a wide margin of bare floor. 
The visitor skirted cautiously along the sides 
of the room, and when invited by the lady 
of the house to walk across, excused himself 
with rustic politeness, because, he said, "his 
boots were too dirty to walk on the " kiver- 

lidr 



Chairs were of hard wood — maple, oak, 
cherry, or mahogany — with seats of wood, 
basket-work, or cushion, covered with cloth, 
haircloth, or leather. Much skill and taste 
was expended on many of the costly solid 
mahogany parlor chairs, and they are even 
now much more stately than most of their 
modern successors. The rocking-chair — a 
truly American invention — dates back to a 
point not ascertained, but certainly not less 
than seventy or eighty years ago. No rock- 
ing-chairs of so antique a pattern as common 
chairs can, however, be found. An early 
improvement upon the old-fashioned wooden 
or wicker chair-seat was the straw-seat, of 
straw or rushes, woven together in four com- 
partments, which converged to the middle 
of the seat. The cane-seat, woven like fine 
basket-work of slender strips of ratan, came 
afterward, and is still much used ; it is 
strong, neat, light, and convenient. Many 
business and study chaii'S are now made 
with the seat pivoted on a stout iron pin — a 
very convenient invention, rendering it very 
easy to turn round from writing desk to cus- 
tomer or client. 

Tables were made of oak, pine, cher- 
ry, black walnut, and mahogany. In old- 
fashioned houses may sometimes still be 
seen a small table hinged to the wall at one 
side, so as to turn up flat against it, secured, 
when not in use, by a button. A leg hinged 
on beneath hung flat to the table wdicn thus 
raised, and swung to its right place when 
lowered. Some old tables were enormously 
heavy, framed almost as strongly as a house, 
and with curiously complicated swinging legs 
to hold up the leaves. Such tables were of- 
ten heirlooms, as was much household furni- 
ture. The substantial strength and solid 
materials used rendered it much more fit to 
serve generation after generation than the 
lighter and cheaper articles now made. The 
present "extension tables," which are fre- 
quently used in dining-rooms, were first 
patented in 1843; they draw out within 
certain limits to any length, when additional 
boards supply the top. Thus the same ta- 
ble accommodates either a large party or a 
small one. 

The sideboard was an indispensable arti- 
cle in dining-rooms where it could be afford- 
ed, being used instead of a closet, to hold 
plate, wine, table-linen, cake, etc. 

Bureaus, or chests of drawers, were made 
on a larger scale than now, sometimes tow- 
ering far toward the ceiling, containing a 



FURNITURE FURNISHING GOODS, ETC. 



251 



great number of drawers, large and small, 
and often ornamented in a peculiar and 
striking manner at the handles and keyholes, 
with brass escutcheons elaborately and fanci- 
fully pierced or carved. 

'i he movable wash-stands, thongh still in 
use, have been replaced in many city houses, 
where aqueduct water in pipes is used, by 
ii.xed stands, usually titted with elegant niai- 
ble tops, having fixed basins sunk in them, 
faucets for water, and connecting by waste 
water pipes with sewer. A '■ water-back," 
or boiler, attached to thy kitchen range or 
sto^'e, is so arranged as to supply hot water 
throush jiipes, from which another faucet 
supplies hot water as desired — a most com- 
fortable provision in cold weather. 

China and gla-s ware were much more 
costly than at present; pressed glass, now 
so extensively used, having been introduced 
only within the present century. I'ewter 
platters and plates were frequently the only 
dishes on a country table. Table crockery 
was of white stoneware, usually blue-edged, 
or of the " willow pattern," though some 
heavy china was imported. There was lit- 
tle silver ware, but what there was, was 
more solidlj' manufactured than that now in 
use. Block tin was much used until linally 
superseded by llritannia metal, which came 
into use al)out forty years since ; " albata," 
a sort of white metal, introduced within 
about twenty-live )"ears, and German silver, 
an invention dating back, in this country, 
about twice as far. A still later substitute 
for the precious metals is " oreide," a sort 
of brass, very closely resembling gold ; and 
another, discovered wi:liin the last lifteen 
years by a French chemist, is aluminum, a 
light, strong metal, resembling silver in ap- 
pearance, which can be extracted from com- 
mon clay, and other aluminous earths. 
This last metal, with its alloys, has already 
come into very extensive use, for household 
as well as other purposes. 

Silver forks were first brought into gen- 
eral use about thirty-five or forty years 
since. Those previously used were the 
common three-pronged steel forks, or two- 
pronged ones, either of them sufficiently 
inconvenient for carrying loose food to the 
mouth. Another improvement, about as 
old, in table furniture, is the invention of 
balance<l knife handles, the weight in the 
handle keeping the blade off the table cloth 
when laid down ; a little thing, but very 
promotive of cleanliness. 



Instead of the modern Yankee clock, the 
first patent for which was taken out by Eli 
Terry, of Plymouth, Conn., in 1797, were 
used either small Dutch clocks, stuck up on 
the wall, like a swallow's nest, or the old- 
fiishioned tall clocks, in cases seven feet 
high, which were sometimes very hand- 
somely ornamented with carving, brass dec- 
orations, and richly painted dials. On the 
broad ftices of these old clocks were some- 
times given, besides the hour and the min- 
ute, a whole almanac of indications : the 
time of high tide, moon's age, day of the 
week and month, name of month, year, 
etc., etc. Occasionally, a wooden bird 
came out and was supposed to sing, or a 
tune w.as played when the hour struck. 
A considerable number of these old clocks, 
most of the best of which were made during 
the first quarter of this century, are still in 
use, and they are often excellent time-keep- 
ers. 

These observations do not include the 
Mississippi valley, which was just beginning 
to be settled by Anglo-American pioneers 
at the close of the revolutionary war. In 
all that extensive region, the rudest substi- 
tutes for all the supposed indispensable in- 
struments of civilized life were used. Fur- 
niture, indeed, scarcely existed. A bedstead 
and a table, rudely hewn out by the sharp 
axe of the master of the house, some stools 
of the same manufacture, a shelf, a row of 
pegs in the log wall, an iron kettle, which 
often served in its own proper person the 
various purposes of wash-basin, cooking- 
kettle, soup-turcen, slop-dish, dish-pan, 
swill-pail, and hog-trough ; a few tins, or a 
little crockery, a chest or two, a stump hol- 
lowed at the top for a mortar to pound corn, 
and a stick for a pestle — such was the 
scanty furnishing of that day in that region. 
As the population has increased, it has 
brought with it from tlie older states all 
their improvements, and now no distinc- 
tion can be found between the two sections — 
at least, so far as concerns those of moderate 
or liberal means. 

Lamps, for oil, or candles of tallow, 
sperm, or wax, were the only means of 
lighting either rooms or streets, eighty j-ears 
ago. A great amount of ingenuity has been 
expended on lamjis ; a bundled and thirty- 
seven patents for them having been is-ued 
from 1798 to 1847, and quite as many more 
since that date. The variety of these, and 
of the substances to the use of which they 



252 



SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



are adapted, is remarkable. There are yet 
some families which make their own mould 
or dip tallow candles ; but only a few. 
'I'liose who still use candles, mostly, either 
indulge in the costly luxury of wax or 
sperm, or use some of the various lately 
invented substitutes, introduced within twen- 
ty or thirty years, such as the so-called 
" margarine," " stearine," etc.. made from 
lard, or the more r'jcent " paratfine " can- 
dles, of a material extracted from coal or 
petroleum. The first innovation upon the 
olil-fashi(Mied custom of using oil lamps — 
not, however, including in this term the 
Argand and similar modifications of it — was 
the intriiduction of lamps for the use of 
buniinii-tluid and of camphene, which were 
preparations of oil of turpentine and alco- 
hol, and though neat and convenient to use, 
and giving a pleasant liglit, were, in careless 
hands, the occasion of a terrible number of 
deaths and maimings by burning. These 
fluids were in general use during more than 
twenty years. Not long after the introduction 
of cam))heMe, a large nnmlier of lamps were 
invented for burning lard oil, tlnn just be- 
ginning to be manufactured, and also lard, 
tallow, and other gross animal fats. About 
thirty patents were issued for lard lamps 
alone, during 1842 and 1843, including 
lamps of the common standard style, argand 
and solar patterns, etc. These lamps, in 
some cases, gave a very good light, but it 
proved troublesome to light them during 
cold weather, and tiny required much greasy 
work in cleaninjr, etc. 

During the last twenty years, another 
class of illuminators has come into use. and 
are now almost universally used whei-e there 
is no gas. These are the various oils known 
as coal oil, kerosene, astral oil, etc., etc., 
distilled or purified from the crude petrole- 
um of Western Pennsylvania, West Vir- 
ginia, Ohio, and Cana(ia ; the heavy oil- 
fVom these wells, and from the sh.ales and 
fatty coals being used for lubricating pur- 
poses. They require a chimney for burn- 
ing, and are apt to smoke. The odor of 
the oil wheVi exposed to the air is unpleas- 
ant, bat when burning is not generally ofl^en- 
sive; but many of them are explosive, not 
being properly prepared, and thousands of 
deaths have been caused by their careless 
use. 

Improvements in furniture are gradually 
introduced, and in a manner which renders 
it peculiarly difficult to fix precise dates. It 



may be said in general, that the uniform 
tendency has been toward lightness and con- 
venience of form. The artistic beauty of 
the designs has also of late years greatly 
improved. 



CHAPTER in. 

FOOD— COOKING, ETC. 

The general character of the food, drink, 
and cooking of three quarters of a century 
ago, was not very difl'erent from that of 
to-day. Meats were the same, but less fresh 
meat was eaten ; halt beef, salt pork, and 
bacon being the ordinary meat, and the beef 
and pork barrel being almost as uni\er=al 
and necessary in the household as the flour 
barrel. 'J he common vegetables were pota- 
toes, turnips, cabbages, and onions, with a 
few beets and paisuips. Carrots were 
scarcely used at all. At the south, sweet 
potatoes were, as at present, used in place of 
Irish potatoes, and okra, rice, etc., were also 
cultivated as at present. Tomatoes were 
scarcely known at the north, until about 
1830 or 183.5, when they were occasionally 
brought from the south, and gradually began 
to be cultivated, under the name of "love- 
apples." The egg-plant, spinach, cauliflower, 
broccoli, and other kitchen-garden phmts, 
have also been introduced since the begin- 
ning of the century, from abroad. 

Bread of rye, " lye-and-Indian," or In- 
dian meal alone, and Indian puddings, 
johnny-cake, and the like, were more used 
than at present; for most grinding was done 
at the small country mills ; transportation 
was slow, difficult, and costly ; neither the 
great wheat fields of the east, nor the great- 
er ones of the west, wore yielding their in- 
crease ; and the great figuring mills that are 
supported by them had not grown up. 
Every farmer's family, therefore, commonly 
used breailstutf of its own raisuig ; and but 
a very small share of that used in the towns 
was brought from any other than the imme- 
diate neighborhood. 

All the labor of preparing the raw mate- 
rial for food w.as performed in the family. 
All the coffee had to be burnt and ground, 
spices pulverized, salt powdered, yeast made, 
soap manufactured, meat pickled, etc., etc., 
by each housekeeper for herself, or under 
her immediate supervision. 

Throughout the extensive western forest 
frontier, a large proportion of the inhabi- 




KITCME.V IIF 177 




KII(]IE\ IN 1,S7(|. 




177G. 



EVENING DRESS. 1780. 



1780. 



1785. 





BVEfilNU DlttSS. 1790. EVENIKO DRESa 1797. 



180U. 



1806. 




1803. 



1812. 



1812. 



1812. 





1815. 



1818. 



1S20. 



1825. 






:s2s. 



WIXTEU DKESS. 1833. 



1833. 



1833. 




1833. 



1840. 



1844. 



1850. 




FASHIONS FROM lS5n TO IStiO. 




n.AIN DUKSS OF VAIUOI'S I'KKIOUS. KXTIiKMK FASMIOXS OF 18()S-9. 



253 



tants lived in great part upon game ; but 
this was, from the difficulty of transportation, 
even less accessible in the older settlements 
than now, when it must be brought from 
the distant lakes, and streams, and woods of 
Canada or Maine. 

The use of spirituous and malt liquors was 
universal. It was thought no impropriety 
for distinguished clergymen to own a shai'e 
in a distillery ; and the meetings of ministers 
on religious business were made occasions of 
jollity, often even to such an extent that the 
reverend companions went home quite tipsy. 
Cider was drank in the country, and cider, 
rum, brandy, or wine in town, at every 
meal. Spirits were expected to be offered 
to every visitor, and if not, the host was 
thought mean and sting}'. 

Cooking was performed over an open 
wood fire ; a mode in many respects more 
laborious and less convenient than the pres- 
ent use of stoves and ranges ; but which, if 
skilfully conducted, gives the food a flavor 
more perfect and delicate than can be attain- 
ed in any other manner. 

As has been implied, the changes in food 
have thus been more in the treatment than 
in the materials of it. The chief of these 
changes, like those in warming houses, have 
arisen from the introduction of anthracite 
coal into use, which has caused the employ- 
ment of cooking-stoves and ranges, instead 
of the open fire. Nearly four hundred 
]iatents for cooking-stoves and ranges were 
issued from 1812 to 1S47, and a much great- 
er mimber have been granted since ; the 
total number of such patents may safely be 
estimated at more than twelve hundred. 

An early style of cooking-stove, and quite 
a favorite one in its day, was the rotary, 
whose top could be swivelled round by a 
crank and cog-wheel geared to a ratchet 
underneath its edge, so as to bring any 
sauce pan or kettle forward to the cook. 
This variety is, however, now nearly obso- 
lete, and innumerable later inventions have 
succeeded, each enjoying a brief reputation, 
usually conferred rather by diligent adver- 
tisement than by any real peculiar merits in 
the stove itself. 

The cooking range may be described as a 
modified stove bricked into a fireplace, in- 
stead of standing out in the room. Its oven, 
instead of being back of the fireplace, as in 
a stove, is above it, or at the sides. Some- 
times there are two, besides a plate warmer, 
and generally they are much more capacious 



than a stove oven. They are now, where- 
ever there are water works, usually con- 
structed with a water back and boiler of 
copper, or galvanized iron. The use of stoves 
and ranges has rendered cooking more con- 
venient, but lias, ill a great measure, substi- 
tuted the baking of meats in the oven for 
the old fashion of roasting. They are far 
cheaper and easier in management than an 
open fire ; and in all the older portions of 
the country are necessary, because wood 
could not be furnished to supply the kitch- 
ens. 



CHAPTER IV. 

DRESS. 

In discussing the changes of costume since 
the revolutionary war, it will be more con- 
venient to divide it with reference to female 
than to male costume. On this principle, 
the period from 17S3 or thereabouts may be 
divided into five, thus :— 

1. 1783 to French Revolution. 

2. French Revolution to 1815. 

3. 1815 to 1830. 

4. 1830 to 1845. 

5. 1845 to present time. 

Speaking generally, the changes thus suc- 
ceeding each other have been improvements; 
although almost all of them have been suffi- 
ciently absurd in themselves. These fash- 
ions have always come from England or 
France; since about 1815, almost entirely 
from France. 

1. Period first, 1783 to French Revolu- 
tion. At the close of the Revolution in 1783, 
the costume of gentlemen was in the Eng- 
lish style of the day, viz. : a single-breasted 
low-collared coat of broadcloth, commonly 
of some gay color, often scarlet, bright blue, 
claret color, peach-blossom, with full skirts, 
and ample pocket-flaps, sleeves, and cuffs ; 
a waistcoat, with long flaps; knee-breeches, 
often also of gay colors, fastened at the outer 
side of the knee with a buckle ; long stock- 
ings, black, white, or colored ; shoes with 
the well-known showy buckles, or boots with 
a broad piece of white or unstained leather 
turned down around the tops, and therefore 
called top-boots ; a ruffled shirt, a lace cra- 
vat, powdered hair, a queue, not unfrequent- 
ly a wig, and a three-cornered cocked hat. 
A very few aged men still wear or have worn 
this costume within the last ten years, even 
to the queue and the shirt-frill. The cocked 



254 



SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



hat did not maintain its place so long, 
though quite often to be seen during the 
first quarter of the present century. 

The formal stateliness of this old costume 
suited well the more careful manners and 
stiff politeness of the day ; for even in ourre- 
publieau country, the distinctions of social 
rank and station prevailed to an extent which 
few people now realize. Old persons now 
living can reuieniber when " Mr." was a title 
considered exclusively proper for the "gen- 
try;" when a "gentleman's" son would have 
been reproved by his father for calling a far- 
mer " Mr." A farmer or mechanic was call- 
ed "goodman," and liis wife not "Mrs." or 
"mistress," but "goody." 

Female costume was on the whole, per- 
haps, le*s strikingly diti'erent from that now 
in vogue, except in head-dress. Its other 
most distinguishing characteristics were 
high-heeled slioes, often of bright red or 
other strong colors ; sleeves to the elbows, 
■with heavy lace ruffles ; a tight, close, long 
waist, and a skirt stiti'ened out by lioops 
very nearly as nuuh as by the "skeleton 
skirts " recently iu use. 

The head-dressc-^, then fashionable, ivere 
however, most monstrous, and furnished an 
endless theme for satire and jest. The hair 
was greased, and powdered, and "craped," as 
it was called — that is, combed up over artitirial 
hair, a mass of tow, or a cushion ; artiticial 
flowers were worked into it, br(jad ribbons 
hung around it, feathers three feet high 
stuck into it, all soits of vegetable-looking 
leaves and even fruit and vegetables them- 
selves (imitated) were piled on, and a mass 
constructed which it seemed totally impossi- 
ble for a lady's neck to uphold or endure ; 
which was often, literally and truly, quite as 
large as a bushel basket. A caricature of 
those days represents a lady sitting in a chair 
during her head-dressing, while one barber, 
mounted on a tall pair of steps, is frizzling a 
curl, and another stan<ls off at one side, tak- 
ing the altitude of the edifice he has hel])ed 
to build, with a quadrant. Calashes, whose 
gig-top appearance almost every one may 
remember to have seen, were invented long 
before this time, as early as 1765, as the 
only contrivauee in the nature of a bonnet 
which would cover these vast machines. 
Such head-dresses required great skill in 
preparation and adjustment, and could, of 
course, not be made up by the owner herself. 
It was the business of the barber, and often 
occupied two or three tedious hours. The 



idea of going through such an operation 
dailv was out of the question, and these 
"heads," as they were called, were made to 
last sometimes for weeks together. Indeed, 
they were continually corrupting, even so 
that worms bred iu them, among the flour 
used for h.air-powder and the pomatum ; and 
numerous recipes were in use for poisons to 
prevent vermin from breeding in them. 
Sleeping in the natural posture was, of 
course, impossible ; ladies slept sitting up or 
with a carefully arranged support for the 
neck and head, adapted to the precious mass 
of absurdities that crowned it. 

Period second, French Revolution to 
1815. The French Revolution may be 
called the conclusion of the era of those 
strange fashions. The freedom of that period, 
so licentious in politics, was equally so in 
dress, and in this department, as in the other, 
caused many and great changes both at 
home and abroad. In this country, which 
had before that time followed the English 
fashions almost exclusively, those of France 
now began to take the lead, and the ancient 
caprices of dress to be replaced by others 
more modern, but not less absurd. 

From about 1780, down to about 1800, 
women's skirts grew more and more scanty 
in circumference, until they were "gored," 
and cut so close as to almost impede walk- 
ing. The waist was also carried up some- 
times to one inch below the arm-pit, and the 
neck at the same time cut indecently low. 
The skirt was fitted closely to the figure, no 
wrinkles being admissible, and the fewest 
possible underclothes were worn; a fashion 
both abominably ugly and very unhealthy. 
These un<jainly waists excited much deserved 
ridicule. A well-known song beginuinsj — 

" Sliephords, I have lost niy love — 
Have you seeu my Auua ?" 

was parodied so as to apply to them, com- 
mencing with — 

" Sliepherds. I have lost my waist — 
Have you seeu my body?" 

The variations in bonnets and head- 
dresses (hiring this same period were many 
and wonderful. In 1786, women wore their 
hair frizzed and powdered ; and for riding 
costume, a man's jacket with broad lapels, 
and a broad-brimmed hat. In 1789, the 
hair was frizzled out into an enormous bush, 
sometimes with a quantity of dangling curls 
besides ; and bonnets, to hold this affair, 



^51 



were made like an upriifht hag stiffened out. 
In 179+ a fashion came in of tinishing np 
the liead-dross with feathers half a yard high. 
About 1795 these st3'les of expansive head- 
dress disappeared, and small bonnets came 
into use all at once, like a helmet or a straw 
cap, with a vizor, very much like those now 
worn. 

From 1805 to 1810, bare arms were much 
in fashion with women, and a singular mode 
of wearing gloves prevailed. The glove 
was worn with a long armlet attached, 
which was drawn on smoothly up to the 
elbow, and then pushed down again so as to 
lie in irregular wrinkles on the arm, which 
was reckoned remarkably pretty. These 
were termed " rucked gloves." About 1808 
was introduced the "gunboat" style of 
bonnet, which consisted of a moderate-sized 
crown, and a wiile expanse of brim, spread- 
ing out around the face, in a form fancied to 
resemble the peculiar shape of a gunboat, 
which is very wide toward the bows. 

About 1810 appeared the plaid cloaks, 
used both by men and women, which may 
still sometimes be found hung up in an old 
closet ; very wide and long, and for women 
having a great clumsy hood hanging at the 
back of the neck. In 1814 the bonnets all 
at once spread out into an immense crown, 
leaving very little brim. 

Men's costume varied during this time no 
less. The reign of powder and pigtails may 
be said to have ended about 1793, inline- 
diatelv after the French Revolution ; and 
about the same time the round hat took the 
place of the three-cornered cocked hat. A 
little later, perhaps about 1800, people began 
to leave off wearing wigs when they had 
hair of their own. It is hard to comprehend 
how people could submit so long to a cus- 
tom so disfiguring, inconvenient, and cum- 
brous — for every wig-wearer had to have his 
whole head shaved every few days, and 
lived in constant peril of making a fantastic 
appearance if his clumsy and unsafe head- 
gear should be knocked off. Yet the mode 
prevailed for two hundred years ; nearly from 
1600 to 1800. 

One of the eai'ly costumes which replaced 
the ante-revolutionary fashions for men, and 
which was the height of the ton in 1''86, 
consisted of a very broad-brimmed hat ; a 
powdered wig with a pig-tail ; a coat with a 
very short waist, broad lapels, and tremen- 
dous swallov^-tails ; buckskin breeches, and 
top-boots. 



During this period, and, indeed, down to 
about 1830, gentlemen's necks were often 
swathed with an enormous thickness of 
cravat ; a fashion said to have been intro- 
duced by George IV., while a leader of 
fashion, to hide the scrofulous swelling of 
his neck. Two or three handkerchiefs, 
each a full yard square, were thus worn ; 
giving the neck an appearance which now 
seems excessively dowdy and uncomfortable. 

During the closing years of the last cen- 
tury, knee-breeches began to vield to the 
pantaloon, wliich came from Franco ; and 
shoe-buckles disappeared to give place to a 
mere string or ribbon. The prince-regent 
of England, afterward George IV., first led 
this fashion, although he resumed buckles 
at the petition of the buckle-makers, who 
represented that the ruin of their trade 
would starve them. It was ruined, however, 
in spite of them and him, and notwithstand- 
ing that he was the inventor of a shoe-buckle. 

This introduction of the pantaloon and 
the shoe-string, and the disuse of wigs, marks 
the era of the modern costume. The dress- 
coat, however, or a garment much like it, 
was worn at intervals, as early as 1750; 
although it did not definitely occupy the 
place of the old-fashioned broad skirts until 
about 1800. It should bo observed that 
" pantaloon" means, in its first strict sense, 
a garment fitting quite tightly to the shape 
of the leg, and buttoning close around the 
ankles, as if a prolongation of the knee- 
breeches. The present pantaloons are in 
strictness " trowsers," having been intro- 
duced as such, and by that name, under the 
auspices of the Duke of Wellington, after 
the battle of Waterloo. 

High-heeled shoes, for women, went out 
of use about 1789, and were replaced by 
something very like the present graceful, 
low-quartered shoe. Round toes, for men's 
shoes and boots, came in about the same 
time, and prevailed until about 1804 or 
1 806, when the first beginnings appeared of 
square toes. 

Period third, 1815 to 1830. The last 
period may be characterized as that of tight, 
scant dresses. The present one may be de- 
scribed as that of big bonnets, pufi'ed hair, 
and leg-of-mutton sleeves, which last, how- 
ever, appeared only toward its end. 
I Knee breeches, which had continued to be 
"full dress," were now quite out of date. 
I Frock-coats had been introduced by the 
I Duke of Wellintrton and his officers after the 



258 



SOCIAL ASD DOMESTIC LIFE. 



peninsular war, together with the boot called 
after him. In 1815 trowscrs began to be 
Avorn, being also introduced under his aus- 
pices ; although the original pantaloon, with 
its tight, close fit and ankle-buttons, main- 
tained itself for ten years or more before 
quite disappearing. In 1815, also, bonnets 
underwent a great revolution, shrinking to 
small dimensions in the crown, and spread- 
ing into a portentous brim. 

Not fiir from 1820 began what may be 
called the modern era of tight lacing, which 
was adopted as the short waists began to be 
replaced by longer ones, and the recent 
type of female dress, viz., a long waist, 
bulging with a sudden angle into a volumi- 
nous skirt, became established. About 1825 
was adopted a method of wearing the hair 
in great puft's at the sides and on the top of 
■ the head, dressed, also, with large bows of 
ribbon. To hold this array, an enormous 
bonnet was required, and was used. Skirts 
now began to be a very little fuller ; two or 
three plaits at the waist being all that were 
at first admitted, and more being introduced 
from time to time. About 1828 began the 
"leg-of-mutton sleeves," which grew at once 
to enormous proportions. These ridiculous 
and most inconvenient appendages were 
stufled out with down, or held out with reed, 
millinet, or whalebone ; but they were con- 
tinually becoming crushed, and were very 
troublesome. They hail a certain absurd 
harmony with the big bonnets and puffed 
hair of the day, as well as with the broad- 
shouldered, stiffly-cut capes that were worn 
with them. 

Period fourth, 1830 to 1845. The be- 
ginning of this period is marked by the 
introduction of the costume of the days 
of Jackson — the bell-crowned hat, long, 
swallow-tailed coat, with high collar and 
" bishop" sleeves, and loose trowscrs. The 
bishop sleeves were distinguished by rising 
into a ridge where they were set in at 
tlie shoulder, as do the sleeves of the 
episcopal vestments; this ridge being in 
1830-35, stuffed with cotton to hold them 
up. The big bonnefs and pufled hair, 
wide capes and leg-of-muttons still prevailed. 
Boots and shoes were worn with very broad, 
square toes until about 1840, when narrow 
toes took their place ; and the calash, invent- 
ed almost a hundred years before, was still 
employed to cover the elaborate head-dress. 
The decrease in the size of women's sleeves 
is the chief feature of this period ; the minor 



details of the successive changes of style 
were innumerable, as usu.al. 

Period fifth, 184.5 to 1872. This period, 
also, may be dismissed with brief considera- 
tion. Its first years were marked by the 
introduction of the sack coat, or, as it is 
called in France, the j^^letut. This easy, 
commodious, and cheap garment is infinitely 
more becoming than a di-ess-coat, and very 
much more convenient tlian either that or a 
frock coat. Though introduced in the pres- 
ent century later than either the dress or 
frock coat, the paletot may be traced to a faj- 
greater antiquity ; a very similar garment 
having been worn at the courts of France 
and England about the year 1450. At 
about the same time was introduced that 
most preposterous of all feminine fashions, 
the bustle, which was a sort of pad tied 
on behind to make the skirts stand out 
with the desirable degree of fulness. This 
was made of various materials : cloth stuifed 
with bran, hair, cotton, rags, old newspapers, 
etc., and sometimes of India-rubber, inflated 
with air. The bustle marked the beginning 
of the recent fashion of expanded skirts. As 
this machine did not sufficiently spread out 
these garments, various other means were re- 
sorted to ; the use of an enormous number ot 
skirts — a habit most pernicious to health — 
and skirts fewer in number, of stiffly-starched 
cloth with cords sown on, or of grass cloth, 
or hair cloth, or stiffViued out with many 
cords of new manilla rope or common 
clothes-line, or with whalebone or coils of 
brass wire. All these having been tried 
and foiled, the next invention came up, of 
' " skeleton-skirts," made of strips of iron 
somewhat similar to a watch-spring. These 
were pronounced (piite adequate to their 
purpose ; although what the real reason of 
that purpose was, it would be impossible to 
say. Why women's skirts should consti- 
tute a great stiff, hollow cone about their 
lower limbs, wilh'u which they must wear 
an entire second suit of clothes for warmth 
and protection, was .an unanswerable riddle. 
After an absolute reign of sixteen years, the 
" hoop skirt" fell into disgrace, and scantier, 
gored skirts, with pannier, and bouffant 
over-skirts have taken its place. 

Another fashion introduced during this 
period was that of wearing soft felt hats, in- 
stead of the round hats, which last are so 
often described as " hard-shells," or " stove- 
pipe" hats; nick-names well applied, but 
which did not succeed in driving out this un- 




WHAT OUR GRANDMOTHERS LEARNED WHILE YOUNG. 




WHAT Oni SISTERS AND DACOHTERS NOW LEARN. 



SOCIAL AND MENTAL CULTURE INTEUCOURSE — HEALTH ART, ETC. 



2J9 



comfortable and unreasonable flishion. The 
felt hat was not often seen among us until 
the enthusiasm which attended Kossuth's 
visit to the United Slates in 1851 and 
18.52 ; after which it was brought out, at 
first with a feather, in close imitation of the 
national hat of the liiiugarian hero, and 
called a " Kossuth hat." The feather was 
soon left otF, but the soft hat being found 
both CO nfortable and graceful, was letained. 

Tlie mast remarkable of the m;iny changes 
of the last twenty live j'ears in the style of 
woman's dress, and certainly one of the 
most unwise, has been in the mode of dress- 
ing the hair. In 184'), and for perhaps ten 
years later the natural hair was worn almo-t 
exclusively, with som 3 artilicial puffings, and 
ringlets, perhaps, but generally without 
other foreign additions ; but toward 1860, 
there came in first the fashion of the " wa- 
terfall," a considerable mass of padding, 
over which the natural back hair was spread, 
the ends passed up underneath, and the 
whole confined in a depending and not wholly 
ungraceful net. But tiiis soon gave place 
to coils and large masses or wads of false, 
or artificial hair, attached to the posterior 
portion of the crown, frequently almost as 
large as the head itself, forming a hideous 
protuberance on the back of the head, and 
giving the la;ly the appearance of being 
two headed. This shocking style has been 
modified so as to be a degree less ungrace- 
ful ; but with all its accessories of curls, 
love-locks, and pendants, the chignon is not 
only a violation of all the laws of beauty 
and good taste, but exceedingly injurious to 
health, having increased more than ten fold 
diseases of the brain, sp'ne, and scalp. This 
fashion of wearing the hair necessitated a 
material ch iiige in the bonnet, reducing its 
size, (till it became almost infinitesim \\ at 
one time) abolishing the cape and perching 
it on the top of the head, and on the fore- 
head, inste-id of on the back of the head, as 
before. Within the past twelve or fifteen 
years, the round hat in some form (and 
there has been an almost infinite variety), has 
largely superseded the bonnet, not only with 
young ladies, but with those of middle age. 

In reviewing the whole series of fashions 
as thus briefly presented, it will appear that, 
on the whole, there has been a decided im- 
provement. There are, doubtless, a suffi- 
cient number of not very wise fashions in 
dress now prevailing ; but the preposterous, 
filthy head dress of 1783, the indecent, 
16* 



scanty costume of 1800, the laukling-like 
cravat of the same period, tlie bi oad shadow 
of the gunboat bonnet, the balloon-like 
appendage of the leg-of mutton sleeve, have 
each, in turn, been super>eded by somethin"^, 
on the whole, less foolish ; and it may be 
claimed with safety, that at this present 
writing, the fashions, both for men and 
women, are in general based upon more 
like common-sense principlis, and admit 
more freedom in adaptr.tion, and, therefore, 
greater convenience and grace, than has 
ever before been the cafe It is matter of con- 
gratidation, however, that an American taste 
is being developed, and our ladies becoming 
less dependent on fashions from abroad ; 
and every year is yielding a larger liberty to 
our female population, in adopting such 
forms and colors as suit the peculiarities of 
each individual, and this is stdl more the 
case with men. 



CHAPTER V. 

SOCIAL AISD MENTAL CULTUKE — IN- 
TERCOURSE— HEALTH— ART, ETC. 

Nearly all the increase in comfort and 
happiness which is the pride of modern 
civilization is traceable to scientific discov- 
ery and to mechanical in\cntion. These 
causes have supplied the means of the labor- 
saving machines and processes of the last 
tbree-qunrters of a centuiy. The use of 
these machines and processes has brought 
it to pass that men can earn their living by 
the labor of a less proportion of their time 
than formerly. And this power enables 
them to devote a correspondingly larger 
share of eflbrt to the task of gaining knowl- 
edge, and of pressing forward in the path 
of moral and mental improvement. The 
amount of mental activity which has been 
devoted to these material processes is aston- 
ishing. The inventive genius of the Ameri- 
can people, is without parallel in the world. 
More than one hundred thcu-and patents 
have been issued during the present century, 
and every year now adds thirteen thousand 
or fourteen thousand to the number. 

The readiest way to sketch ihe general 
progress of society at present sought to be 
described, will be to set forth briefly, iu 
chronological succession, the periods oi 
occurrences which have marked the com- 
mencement or maturity of any important 
influence upon the prosperity of the com- 



260 



SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



munity, without attempting to classify them 
particularly. 

In 1796 was taken out the first American 
patent for a pianoforte, by J. S. McLean, 
of New Jersey. The manufacture of these 
instruments lias become very extensive ; the 
larger manufactories sometimes turning out 
thousands a year. So great and important 
have been the improvements, bolh in these 
and in reed iiistruments (cabinet organs and 
the like), that in both, we have the highest 
reputation in the world. 

In 1799 Dr. Waterhouse, of Harvard Uni- 
versity, first introduced Jenner's discovery of 
vaccine inoculation ; a measure which has 
substantially freed our community from the 
fear, the pain, and the disfigurement of the 
small-pox. This single discovery has had 
no inconsiderable influence in lengthening 
life, and increasing its happiness by dispelling 
the apprehensions, always felt before, of suf- 
fering and death. 

The importance of regular, rapid, and 
cheap modes of travel and transportation, to 
the general improvement of society in wealth 
and intelligence, is exceedingly groat. Dis- 
tance of residence, difliculty of travelling, 
diiHculty of carrying, has, through all the 
history of the world, been a chief means of 
keeping nations poor, because thus they 
could not exchange what they had for what 
they had not ; and thus, however much they 
possessed of one thing, they were poor. For 
wealth does not consist in mass of posses- 
sions. Not mountains, even of gold, if un- 
exchangeable, are wealth. Wealth is mass 
and variefy of possessions together, and 
must theretbro be produced by exchange, 
that is, travel and transportation. The sea- 
coast nations, commanding water-carriage, 
have in the past, been tlie rich ones ; but 
the introduction of steam railways, dating 
from about 18;J0, has made our inland States 
lich. There were in 1S72, over sixty thous- 
and miles of railways in operation in the 
United States. 

Tills also tends to promote exchange of 
mental wealth, by correspondence, visiting, 
e^c.; maintains a sense of nationality, and 
keeps up acciuaintance and good feeling. 
AV'erc it not for ease of travel, there would 
but slight hopes of keeping IMaine and 
Georgia in the same re])ublic with Califor- 
nia and Oregon. As it is they will remain. 

In 1811, commenced a movement of a 
very different character from that of the 
inventor Fulton, but which has exerted an 



influence upon the health and morals of our 
nation, even more important than the bene- 
fits of cheap and rapid locomotion. This 
was the temperance reform. 

The laxity of manners and morals which 
must attend war, had greatly increased the 
use of intoxicating liquor during the Revolu- 
tion, and it continued to spread after the 
peace. Dr. Rush had published his " In- 
quiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits," in 
1 80-t ; but no decided movement against 
their use was made until 1811, when the 
Presbyterian General Assembly appointed 
a committee on the subject. That and other 
ecclesiastical bodies, at various times, passed 
different resolutions and recommendations 
intended to limit the use of liquor, but with 
no very great success. The first total absti- 
nence society was formed in Boston in 1826, 
and during the following ten years, others 
niultiplied with great rapidity, liquor-selling 
became disreputable, and the common use 
of ardent spirits was to a very great extent 
broken up. Like most great reforms, how- 
ever, the tem]ierance movement has had its 
seasons of advance and retrogression, and 
while taking the half century together since 
its inauguration, it has made wonderful pro- 
gress it has been rather by repeateil leaps 
forward, than by a steady march. In 1839, 
the Washingtonian movement, originating 
among intemperate men, was a great ad- 
vance ; the attempts at legislation on the 
subject from 1H42 to the present time, have 
done some good, and probably some evil ; 
the absolute necessity for an enlightened 
jmblic opinion to enforce them, not being 
always understood. The great prevalence 
of beer drinking, and the appetite for in- 
toxicating liquors, stimulated by the late 
war, have been .serious obstac'es to its suc- 
cess. The organization of Temperance 
orders, and the Father Slatlhew and other 
class movements lia\e done much to make 
liquor selling obnoxious, and tippling dis- 
reputable. 

In 18.32 the study of phrenology was in- 
troduced into this country by Spurzheim. 
This system, whatever the correctness of its 
doctrines as to indications by the shape and 
size of the head, which are certainly believ- 
ed b\' many intelligent persons, is at any rate 
entitled to the merit of having furnished a 
new and very clear classification of the men- 
tal faculties, which has become the means of 
a great improvement in mental philosophy. 

Two years later, viz., in 1834, the homoeo- 



SOCIAL AND MENTAL CULTURE INTERCOURSE HEALTH ART, ETC. 



261 



pathic systfm of medicine was introduced, 
which has since become verj- extensively be- 
lieved. As in regard to phrenology, it may 
be said of this system, that whether all its 
peculiar doctrines are true or false, it has at 
least done good indirectly, by operating to 
reduce the quantit}' of medicines given by 
the old-fashioned practitioners, and to direct 
their attention more than before to the very 
important points of regimen, ventilation, 
and the other collateral departments of gen- 
eral livgiene. 

Aliout 1840 was introduced into this 
country the greatest improvement in picto- 
rial art since the discovery of painting in 
oils by John Van Eyck in the fifteenth cen- 
tury ; the greatest discovery ever made in 
that department of human knowledge ; viz., 
the art of taking pictures by the chemical 
action of light, named, from its discoverer, 
daguerreotyping ; and various modifications 
of which are known as the talhotype, am- 
brolype, crystalotype, photograph, etc. Tliese 
methods render it both easy and cheap to 
procure an absolutely and necessarily per- 
fect representation of a person or a thing. 
Besides the pleasure of thus being enabled, 
' at a trifling cost, to possess a who e galleiy 
of perfect portraits of friends, this art has 
already been made useful in securing dia- 
grams of lunar and other astronomical jihe- 
nomena, and in taking pictures of buililings, 
Uind>capes, etc. ; it has been applied to pur- 
poses of scientific and medical discovery ; 
and is now the basis of several processes of 
printing, and is largely used in the illustra- 
tion of books, etc., etc. 

Not far from the same time, other sys- 
tems of medical treatment were introduced 
— the " water-cure," or " hydro])athic " sys- 
tem, which has proved very useful in certain 
classes of diseases ; the " Swe<lisli move- 
ment " cure ; the use of electricity and 
magnetism, and later the " Lifting cure," 
and " The Oxygen treatment." '1 he first 
named, besides a very simjile mode of life, 
consists only in the application of water, at 
various temperatures and in various ways ; 
and it is successfully practised in many es- 
tablishments devoted to it. All these new 
systems, though incomplete as modes of 
treatment for all classes of diseases, have 
exerted a modifying influence upon the 
regular practice. 

In 1.S45 the principle of cheap postage 
was established in this country by a law of 



Congress, and another step thus taken to- 
ward the entire release from tax or encum- 
brance of the intercourse of one mind with 
another. Cheap postage is one of the latest 
signs of a high civilization ; it is one of the 
most promising indications of our own 
future. 

Still one year later was discovered the 
medical process, since termed " anassthesia," 
which consists in rendering persons insensi- 
ble by the inhalation of certain gases (ni- 
trous oxide, ether, or chloroform), thus af- 
fording an opportunity of perf irming surgi- 
cal operations quite without the knowledge 
of the patient. The agonies suffered in the 
dentist's chair, or under the hands of the 
surgeon, and the not less tormenting pain 
of many nervous diseases, have thus been 
much alleviated, and even entirely relieved. 

In the same year was issued the first pat>- 
ent for sewing machines, to Elias Ilowe, jr. 
It is only necessary to allude to the very 
great saving of time, and strength, and 
health which these machines have effected ; 
their effects are before the eyes of alL They 
are performing in a day the work of weeks, 
and doing very much to relieve women of a 
species of labor which was principally con- 
fined to them, but which consumed, in the 
merest pettv drudgery, a wretchedly great 
proportion of their time, and often ruined 
health and destroyed life. 

An important outgrowth of one of the 
departments of improvement which have 
been described, is the modern hotel. The 
American first-class hotel is an institution 
quite peculiar to this country, and in- 
cludes within itself many of the various 
inventions which have just been cata- 
logued : splendid furniture, elaborate food, 
economical and yet liberal housekeeping, 
labor-saving machinery ; in short, an unri- 
valled combination of the applications of 
human ingenuity to the improvement of do- 
mestic life. 

To recapitulate : It has thus been 
shown, though briefly and with many im- 
perfections, that the course of our nation 
during the ninety-seven years since the 
Revolution, has been one of steadfast, es- 
sential, and constant improvement in things 
material and immaterial, physical and men- 
tal, practical and ornamental ; in business, 
travel, dress, homes and home comforts, 
wealth, morals, intellect — in short, in every 
department of human activity. 



BOOKS. 



CHAPTER I. 

BOOK TRADE — PUBLISHING — JOBBING- 
RETAILING. 
" Yankee curiosity" is frequently a sub- 
ject of remark with the flippant writers and 
travellers of the old world, and if not always 
urged as a reproach, it is not seldom re- 
ferred to in a deprecatin£; sense by those who 
do not appreciate the immense activity of 
intellect of which it is one manifestation. 
There is no doubt either of the existence of 
the alleged curiosity, or that it sometimes 
exhibits itself in a ludicrous light ; but it 
also manifests itself in the indefatigable in- 
vestigations to which nature and art are con- 
tinually subjected by the ever inquiring 
Vmerican mind. There result from those 
investigations, not the dreary metaphysical 
theories that are evolved from German con- 
templation, but those countless inventions, 
improvements, and applications of mechani- 
cal principles that are every year recorded in 
the patent office, and the effects of which are 
seen in every department of industry. The 
religious and political assemblies ; the amu- 
sing, instructive, and scientific addresses of 
the lecture-room ; and the marvellous circu- 
lation of the public press, all reflect that thirst 
for knowledge which is a part of Yankee cu- 
riosity. This, however, gives a still stronger 
evidence of its vigor in the book trade, which, 
in the United States, shows an extent of 
sales that no other country can hope to ap- 
proach. It is based on the universal ability 
of the people to read, and on that " curi- 
osity," or thirst for knowledge, which induces 
them to do so, accompanied by means to 
purchase books. The word "means" compre- 
hends not only greater wealth on the part 
of the purchaser, but reduced prices for the 
books. The existence of 30,000,000 of 
people who can all read, supposes an im- 
mense market for books, that must be sup- 
plied ; and happily busy intellects have writ- 
ten, while (he mechanical processes of -pub 
lishing have been developed in a marnne 



to supply the demand. In order to compare 
the book market of the United States with 
that of Europe, we may refer to the census re- 
turns of 1870. That informs us that in that 
year there were 33,58G.'.I!S1I white persons in 
he country. Of these, I (i.O0li,0ii<i were over 
.'0 years of age, and of these, 1 ,< i3r),0< lO could 
neither read nor write, of whom 42.),' 00 
were aliens. We now turn to France, and 
we find that there were lt>,000,00() persons 
over 20 years of age ; and of these, o,700,- 
iiOO only could read and write, and tlie re- 
mainder, 13,300,000, could not. In other 
words, there were, in the United States, 
14,6r)0,0(IO readers of books, against 5,7('0,- 
000 in France. But there were, also, in the 
United States, 0,977. 1)',I3 person-; between 10 
and 20. Of these, nearly G,OtiU,OL/0 were -+11 
school, and, as a conseqiience, bought and 
read school-books. The ratio of these scholars 
to the whole number who can read ahd 
write must be the same in France. Hence 
there are, in fact, three times as many read- 
ers in the United States as in France. 

The making of books has kept pace with 
the increasing demand for them. If we 
look back to the library of King Alfred, we 
find that he gave 8 hydes of land for a book 
on cosmography, brought from Italy by 
Bishop Biscop. At such rates, none but a 
king could att'ord to buy a book ; but, on the 
other hand, there were few, even among 
nobles, who could read if they had them ! 
There was no market, and no manufacture. 
As the art of reading became so far progres- 
sive that the old barons could sign their 
names, instead of punching the seals of in- 
struments with their sword pummels, some 
little demand for books sprung up, but at 
enormous rates. The state of the book 
market, when literature began to dawn in 
those iron ages, Scott makes old Douglas de- 
scribe in terse phrase : — 

" Thanks be to God ! no son of mine, 
Save Gawain, e'er could pen a line." 

A modern canvasser would not have gotten 



BOOK TRADE PUBLISHING JOBBING RETAILING. 



263 



his name in advance for numbers to be left. 
Louis XL, of Franco, in 1471, was obliged 
to give security and a responsible endorser 
to the Paris faculty cf medicine, in order to 
obtain the loan of the works of an Arabian 
physician. The art of printing, which was 
introduced into England in 1474, had an 
important influence upon the production of 
books, and this, probably, was the cause of 
a greater spread of learning, that reacted upon 
the demand. The Bible was the most com- 
monly used, and these, in noble houses, with 
heavy covers and clasps, were chained to 
shelves and reading-desks. In the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries, books were mostly 
folio and quarto. But the dimensions of 
books decreased as they became popularized, 
and this was in proportion to the spread of 
learning among ihc people. This went on 
gradually, until both the market and supply 
were considerable, up to the eighteenth cen- 
tury. With the colonies of America — 
among whom both religious and political 
views were based upon general education — 
schools became an institution, and in New 
England the use of them an obligation. 
From that time the market for books in- 
creased with the numbers of the people. 
The first bookseller mentioned is Hezekiah 
Usher, of Boston, in 1G52 ; and his son, 
John Usher, is mentioned by a writer in 
1686, as very rich, and as having "got his 
estate by bookselling." That books, in the 
early part of the century, were by no means 
abundant, or easy to be got at, is evident 
from what Franklin tells us of the difficulties 
he encountered, and the great advantage he 
enjoyed, in having access to the library of a 
merchant. The most of them were imported 
at, no doubt, such expense as confined their 
general use to the better classes. Some 
years after, viz., in 1732, at the time Franklin 
commenced the publication of " Poor Rich- 
ard's Almanac," in Philadelphia, a Boston 
bookseller advertised as follows : — 

"Whereas it has been the common method 
of the most curious merchants of Boston to 
procure their books from London, this is to 
acquaint those gentlemen that I, the said Fry, 
will sell all sorts of account books, done after 
the most acute manner, for 20 per cent, 
cheaper than they can have them from 
London. 

" For the pleasing entertainment of the 
polite parts of mankind, I have printed the 
most beautiful poems of Mr. Stephen Duck, 
the famous Wiltshire poet. It is a full 



demonstration to me that the people of New 
England have a fine taste for sjood sense and 
polite learning, having already sold 1,200 of 
those poems." 

This was pretty well for Piichard Fry, and 
we hope he had not then introduced the art 
of magnifying his sales on paper. That 
there were a number of booksellers then 
doing well, is evident from the fact that Mr. 
John Usher had made his fortune at it 50 
years before; and in 1724 there was held a 
convention cf Boston booksellers, to regulate 
the trade, and raise the price of some de- 
scriptions of books. The publication and 
sale of books increased slowly, until the 
events of the war began to excite the minds 
of the public, and works on those subjects 
were eagerl}' taken up. The practice was, to 
some extent, to sell books in sheets, to be 
bound as the purchaser might fancy — per- 
haps to be uniform with his library. This 
is now done only wliere the work is sold in 
numbers by subscription. There was then 
less capital in the trade, and few were dis- 
posed to risk the amount required to get 
out large works of a standard character. 
The cost was then more than it now is, and 
the time required much longer to complete 
and dispose of it. There was then formed, 
in ISO], the American company of booksell- 
ers, and these generally subscribed together 
in the publication of a work, to guarantee 
the outlav. There was a sort of union, that 
regulated the principles of publication, and 
those who did not conform to these regula- 
tions were repudiated. School-books were, 
as a matter of course, as having the largest 
and steadiest market, the first that were ex- 
tensively published. A type of this class of 
books is Webster's Spelling-Book, which has 
grown with the country in a remarkable 
manner. In 1783, with the advent of the 
peace, Mr. Noah Webster published his 
American spelling-book. The work became 
a manual for all schools, and its influence 
has been immense, in giving uniformity to 
the language throughout the whole country. 
The " Yankee schoolmaster," who was raised 
upon that book, has gone forth into every 
section of the Union, spreading the fruits of 
that seed of knowledge, as writes Fitz-Greene 
Halleck :— 

'' Wanderinpc througl\ tlie southern countries, teaching 
The A, B, C, from Webster's spelling-book." 

When it was first published, there were 
3,000,000 people in the United States ; there 



2G4 



BOOKS. 



are now 39,000,000, and there have been 
sold 54,000,000 copies of the work, or five 
for every four souls in the Union. The 
Bpelling-booli was enlarged into a dictionary 
in I806, and immediately Dr. Webster went 
on with preparations for a still larger work. 
This occupied him 20 years of unremitting 
research, during which the sales of his spell- 
ing-book su])ported his family; in 1828 the 
dictionary appeared in two quarto volumes. 
Twelve years after, viz., in 1840, a new edi- 
tion made its appearance, greatly improved ; 
and since Dr. Webster's death, there have 
been two complete revisions of his great 
dictionary, now known as Webster's Un- 
abridged, viz., in 1847 and 1864, beside sev- 
eral partial revisions, (jf this Unabridged 
Dictionary, now a ponderous quarto of 1,840 
pages, about 3.')0,0u0 copies have been sold, 
and a va-tly greater number of the smaller 
dictionaries, ot which there are seven of dif- 
ferent sizes. The sales of the spelling-book 
are now about 1,500,000 copies annually. 
These works have exerted a powerful in- 
fluence in giving uniformity and precision 
to the use of the language in all parts of the 
country, and as a re ult, there are fewer 
dialects here than in I'^ngland. 

The publication of religious works was 
greatly promoted by the societies formed, 
particularly the Amcricmi Bible Society, 
which was formed in 181(5; the Bible So- 
ciety of Philadelphia in 18U8; one in Con- 
necticut in 1809; and also one in Massachu- 
setts. The American Society in New York 
published, in its first year, 6,410 volumes, 
mostly Bibles and Testaments. In 1871, 
the issues were 1,19(3,797, and the whole 
. number during 56 years, was 28,601,489 vol- 
umes of the r>il)le. A good copy of the Bi- 
ble is sold for 60 cents, and a cheaper edition 
at 35 cents ; Testaments as low as 10 cents. 
Contrast this with the Bible copied in 22 
years by Alcuin for Cliarlemagne about 800, 
and which was sold in modern times to the 
British Museum for §3,750, and the prog- 
ress we have made ajipears great. 

The American Bible Union was organized 
to 1850, and it has since issued 259,748,804 
pages ol matter, including Bibles. The pub- 
lications by other societies have been con- 
siderable. 

These societies were not a portion of the 
regular book trade, which continued to be 
mostly under the association, until the ap- 
pearance of the Waverly Novels in 1820 to 



1»30. 'Ihe competition to which the large 
demand for these works gave rise, broke 
d(jwn old arrangements of the trade. The 
publishers thenceforth acted independently. 
At the same time, the supply of desirable 
books from abroad, upon which there was no 
charge for copyright, was mucli increased ; 
and as all the j)ublishers were upon the same 
footing in respect to those books, the com- 
petition extended only to the mechanical 
]iroeess, reducing its cost to the lowest rates. 
The capitals of the publishing houses grad- 
ually increased, but there was still great diffi- 
culty in getting an American book printed. 
Coojjer tells us, in the preface to his Pilot, 
that so great was the difficulty he encoun- 
tered in getting a printer to undertake it, that 
he was obliged to write the last [lage of the 
story first, and have it set up and paged, to 
insure the extent to which the matter would 
run. 

The publication of books is a business 
which has undergone many changes within 
the pa?t hundred years. There has at all 
times been a limited amount of publishing 
of woks by American authors, partly be- 
cause it was so much more jjrofitable to re- 
print f jreign works on which there was no 
co]iyrigbt, and which ha<l already S3me repu- 
tation ; and partly because in the early 
struggle for national existence among a new 
and not homogeneous people there was not 
the opportunity for that profound culture 
;uid leisurely study which could alone make 
American works popular and successful to 
the publisher. There were, of course, ex- 
ceptions to this general rule; but for a long 
period, publishers were shy of undertaking 
a work whose author had not already at- 
tained a reputation abroad. The great bulk 
of publishing was therefore limited to the 
reprinting of foreign works, sometimes with 
introductions, appendices or notes added here, 
but the reputation of the forei'jn aulbor was 
the inducement to the pnljlication. Jlatlers 
have changed in this respect, and American 
copyright works now largely predominate 
auKtng the publishers' issues. The reprints 
in 1871 were nominally less than one-fifth, 
though really probably al)out one-fourth of 
the whole number of books published that 
year. 

For the first fifty or sixty years of our 
national existence very few important origi- 
nal works were published except by " sub- 
scription;" the author or publisher issuing 



BOOKS. 



2(!5 



a prospectus describing the work and by so- 
licitation in person or by letter, obtaining 
a sufficient number of subscribers to war- 
rant its publication. Usually a subscription 
of from 1,200 to 2,000 was deemed sufficient 
to guaranty the success of the work, and if 
a larger number were printed tliey were dis- 
posed of at auction or to chance purchasers. 
There was, during the period of which we 
are sp>'aking, no stereotyping ; that process 
was then unknown, and all copies were 
printed direct from the types, while in books 
which required to be often reprinted, such 
as I5il)les, Prayer and Psalm books, &c., the 
type was kept standing, involving a very 
heavy expense for the puldisher. Under 
these circumstances there was little encour- 
agement for the publisher to take any doubt- 
ful risks, and it is not surprising that so late 
as 1820 the whole number of books manu- 
factured and published in a single year 
throughout the whole country sliould not 
have exceeded the value of $-.500,000, of 
which school books formed nearly one-third. 
Stereotyping, clectrotyping, and wood en- 
graving have effi^'cted great changes in these 
particulars, in the jniblishing trade. Jlon; 
than S40,Oi)0,Oi)0 worth of books are now 
issued in a single year. The large publish- 
ing liouses employ a " reader " and some- 
times more than one, whose business it is to 
decide upon the merits of manuscripts of 
fered for publication, as well as to exauiine 
any foreign works which it may be thought 
desirable to reprint. These " readers " of 
course reject four or five manuscripts, and 
sometimes more, for every one tbey recom- 
mend ; sometimes deciding unwisely, as 
when five or six of the ablest of thera de- 
clinecl the manuscript of " Uncle Tom's 
Cabin," in the belief that it would not sell ; 
but generally with a judicious regard to the 
interests of their employers. 

If the book is accepted, the terms on 
wliich it shall be published are next to be 
considered. The publishing house may re- 
quire the author to share tlie risk with them, 
by furnishing tlie cost of stereotyping, or 
possibly of mmuficturing a first edition, to 
be reimbursed in whole or in part liy a ])er- 
centage on the sales ; — a |)lan wliicli though 
safe for the publisher, hardly leaves much 
margin of profit for the author ; — they may 
require the autlior to make over to tliem all 
copyright till tiie cost of stereotyping is 
made up, and thereafter, allow them five, 
seven and one-half or ten per cent, on the 



wholesale or retail price of the book, as 
they can agree ; or if they are confident of 
the success of the work they may ]iay ten 
per cent., or in the case of a popular author 
even more on the selling price of all copies 
sold. There is the greatest possible diver- 
sity in these copyriglit contracts. In some 
instances the publisher pays a fixed sum, 
and then holds the copyright, taking his 
risk of reimbursement from the sales. This 
is generally the method pur-ued by the sub- 
scription-book publishers, of whom we shall 
say more by and by. If they pay copy- 
right at all, they usually pay not more than 
from three to five per cent, on tiie retail price, 
though from the greater extent of tlieir sales, 
this pa3's the author much better tlian the 
large percentage of the "regular trade." 
Sometimes, again, a publisher has a work 
prepared, employing several writers and pay- 
ing them so much a page for their labor. 

Whichever of these plans may be adopted, 
the manuscri^ji is handed over to the printer 
to be set up. The '' composition," or netting 
up th3 types, is conducted with more or less 
expedition according to the character of the 
matter. Wlien sot up, proofs are taken — 
usually called "galley proofs," because they 
are imiiressions from the matter which is 
set up the width of the page or coluum, and 
of indefinite length, technically called " gal- 
leys." The proofs are carefully read by 
a professional proof-reader, and usually also 
by the author, after a first revision, and 
when corrected, tlie matter is made up into 
pages with the requisite running titles and 
liaging, and if any large sale is expected, the 
pages are either stereotyped or electrotyped. 
The plates, as these stereotypes or electrotypes 
are called, are next sent to the press-room, 
where ])aper of the proper size having been 
provided and prepared, the book is printed 
and goes to the binder, who, having folded, 
stitched, covered, stamped, and gilded it, de- 
livers it at the publisher's warehouse, ready 
for market. If it is illustrated, the engra- 
vings are generally made while the work is 
going through the press. They considerably 
enhance the cost, but add also to the sala- 
bleness of the work. At the time of put- 
ting the book on the market from one hun- 
dred to three hundred and fifty cojiies are 
sent to the members of the ]iress, and two 
copies are sent to the Librarian of Congress, 
wlio is ex-njficio the Register of copyrights. 
A considerable, often a large, sum is expen- 
ded in advertising the book. Most of the 



2G6 



BOOKS. 



larger publishers have one or more periodi- 
cals of their own, of large circulation, iu 
which a part of their advertising is done, 
but all pay heavy tribute to the great dai- 
lies and weeklies also. The leading publi- 
cations have what are called " standing or- 
ders" from tlieir correspondents all over the 
Union, fur so many copies of every ICmo 
or I'Imo book, or a smaller quantity of 
every 8vo volume which they publish, im- 
mediately on its publication. These stand- 
ing orders are, in many cases, sulficient to 
insure them against loss in whatever they 
publish, and thus make all further sales 
largely profitable. A few years ago books 
were sent out on commission, to be returned 
if not sold, but this was attended with so 
much loss, that it has now been given up ex- 
cept in a few instances, in school books. 

The school book trade, though sometimes 
carried on by publishei's who are also iu the 
general trade, is becoming more and more 
distinctive in its character every j-ear. The 
method of publication and of putting the 
books on the market differs materially fi-om 
that of miscellaneous books. Tliey are 
usually published in series, of Headers, Arith- 
metics, Geographies, and other text-books, 
the authors receiving but a small percentage 
on each book, but their immense sales mak- 
ing this very proiitable. They are intro- 
duced into schools, or ajiproved and ordered 
by Boards of Kducation, or School Superin- 
tendents, on the urgent solicitation of agents, 
and often a'ter a long and exciting contest, 
and are furnished usually at first at a very 
low price for introduction. The sales arc 
enormous, constituting fully one-half the ag- 
gregate sales of books in the United States. 
Another distinct branch of the publishing 
trade is the " subscription book business." 
Books are not now subscribed for, to insure 
the publisher against loss in their manufac- 
ture, as they were fifty or sixty _years ago, 
but the business of publishing books, to be 
sold only by subscription, has attained a 
great magnitude. A book published for sale 
by booksellers, is duly announced, advertisid 
and exposed upon the counters of the book- 
sellers, usually has its run of six months or 
80, sells to the extent of 2,000, 3,000, or 
5,000 copies, rarely more, and sometimes not 
over 1,000 or l,.iOO, .and then usually be- 
comes an old book not often incjuired for. 
The subscription book, on the other hand, 
is not intended for the book stores, and is 



not usually found there. It is generally an 
octavo volume, largely illustrated and selling 
at from two and a half to five or six dollars, 
cheaper books not proving so successful. It 
is well known by those familiar with the 
business, that this is the only way by which 
large and expensively illustrated books can 
be made to pay. 'I'he most valuable works 
in this country and England are sold in this 
way ; while the expense of selling is greater, 
the sales are so much larger, that not more 
than a tenth part as much for original out- 
lay lias to be added to the price — tlie pub- 
lisher selling so many more, roceives a much 
Ics-! percentage. This explains why books 
can be, and are delivered at the In nies of 
the piircliasers, all over the country, cheapeh 
than over the counters of book stores. The 
net profit per volume to subscription pub- 
lishers is very small. On most books a sale 
of 10,0'J0 copies would not pay for the 
trouble and expense, — the cost of engrav- 
ing being enormous — one of 50,000 even 
is but moderate, while sales of a hundred 
thousand or more, which are not uncommon, 
})ay very handsomely. We might give many 
instances of enormous sales of these books. 
(iocMlrich's Univer.-al Traveller, one of the 
eailicst of this class, sold largely. The Cot- 
tage Bible iii two volumes, over 200,000 
sets. Of the histories of the late war, four 
considerably exceeded one hundred thousand 
copies each — one reaching 175,0(i0 — Kitto's 
History of the Bible, 200,iiOO ; Iiich.ardson's 
"Field, Dungeon and Escape," 80,000, 
:ind his " Beyond the Mississippi," 100,000 ; 
Stephens' " War Between the States, " 
62,1)00 ; " Life and Death in Rebel Pris- 
ons," 95,000 ; "Smith's Bible Dictionary," 
1 vol.. Royal 8vo, 150,000 ; Matthew Hale 
Smith's " Sunshine and Shadow," 100,000; 
Raymond's Life of Lincoln, 70,000 ; Rev. 
Dr. ]\Iarch"s " Night Scenes of the Bible," 
over 10<),000 ; one edition of Fleetwood's 
" Life of Christ," (ihere are five or six in 
the market) 150,000 ; " Bunyan's Pilgrim's 
Proijress," one edition, 110,000; JMark 
Twain's "Innocents Abroad," 100,000; 
"Roughing It," 100,000. 

Subscription book publishers have been 
accused of foisting worthless books upon 
the market, but a fair examination will show 
that, in proportion to the number of differ- 
ent books piddished, the percentage of 
worthless ones is far less than of those ])ub- 
lished by the regular trade ; and very many 



BOOKS. 



267 



of their books are reaily of the highest 
character. 

The practice of sellins; subscription books 
by numbers, once greatly in vogue, is now 
confinoil to a few liouses, mostly English. 
Some of these have been very successful, 
but the gre Iter part have .abandoned it in 
consequence of the dissatisfacti jn wliicli it 
occasioned. The numbers will sometimes 
far exceed what was auiiouuced, to complete 
the work ; they are delivered at uncertain 
times, and when completed the cost is usu- 
ally mich greati'r than the subscriber had 
expeesed. If tiiey are all preserved they 
have still to be bound at a heavy expense. It 
not uiitVeiiuently iiappens that the subscribers 
drop off so fast from disappointment and 
dissatisfaction that the publisher is compelled 
to abandon the work unfinished. 

There are other subdivisions of the book- 
trade, such as publishers of Medical books, 
Law books, Military and Scientific books, 
Masonic books, and Religious books, which 
are again divided into Sunday Scliool books, 
and Theological works. 

About 1 ^oO, a system of semi-annual 
trade sales was inaugurated, for the purpo e 
of dillusiiig more widely the publications of 
the publishing houses and bringing buyers 
and sellers into more frerjU'-nt contact. 
These sales, though greatly modified from 
their first pl:in, are still maintained, but 
with the abundant facilities for transporta- 
tion and transmitting orders, have mostly 
outlived their usefulness, and many of the 
leading pul)lishers do not now contribute to 
tliem. The number of publishers in the 
United States is nearly four hundred, but of 
those extensively engaged in the business 
the number is less than one hundred. 

Tlie sale of old or secoiid-h:ind books is 
also a very extensive branch of business in 
the great cities. It is obvious, that where 
book-buying and book-reading are so preva- 
lent, as is the case among almost all classes 
of the people in the United States, there 
must exist a larije number both of public and 
private libraries, and that these, through 
death, and the continual vicissitudes tliat 
attend families, are being constantly broken 
up. If eveiy family has a library of greater 
or less magnitude, sooner or later th<re is a 
sale, and it generally comes to the hammer 
in one or more of the large book auctions 
that are held almost nightly. These auctions 
are attended by the public, but mostly by 



the second-hand booksellers. Of these there 
are numbers in those parts of the city fre- 
quented most by strangers. They are the 
same as the "bookstalls," so familiar a 
feature in the literature of England and the 
countries of western Europe, as they are ia 
fact a necessity everywhere. In New York, 
the stall-keeper generally procures, for a 
rent of $oO to $150 per annum, according 
to circumstances, the privilege of putting np 
a set of shelves against the outside of some 
store corner. These shelves shut up at 
night, like a large window, and the shutters 
are fastened by iron bars that have padlocks. 
These shelves contain a small stock, from 
$300 to $400 value, of the most saleable 
books that can be picked up chea]) at the 
auctions of books, or of household furniture 
of fiiniilies breaking up, or purchased of 
needy persons who offer them. It follows 
that the stalls, or stands, become the re- 
ceptacles of all old books, and somi'times 
very rare and valuable ones that have gone 
out of print, and can be found nowhere else. 
A great many valuable foreign books are 
found here, having been disposed of by 
inunigrants who become necessitous. A 
large number of books are sold from these 
stiills, which also keep much of the current 
new literature. The keepers — some of them 
— soon become possessed of sufficient cap- 
ital to open whole stores ; and tln-re are 
now in New York, and most cit es some 
very large stores that have rare collections 
of old books. This business has al-o ex- 
tended across the water, so that persons of 
more scholarly tastes have, through these 
agencies, access to the reservoirs of old 
books to be found in the cities of Europe. 

In the period from 1848 to 18o7, works of 
fiction, both from known and unknown au- 
thors, had an immense sale. Mrs. H. B. 
Stowe led the way in this matter, her "Uncle 
Tom's Cabin " selling to tlie extent of 
310,000 copies here, and nearly a million and 
a half copies in England ; of " The Lamp- 
lighter," by Miss Cummings, 90,000 copies 
were sold ; of " Fern Leaves," 70,(.lO0 ; 
"Alone," by " Marion Harland," over 51 ',000 ; 
" Fashion and Famine," bv Mrs. Ann S. Ste- 
phens, 30,000 ; " Wide, Wide World," and 
" Queecliy," by Miss AVarner, nearly 100,000 
each, etc., etc. 

The circulation attained at times by ster- 
ling and standard works is very large, as 
follows : — 



2G8 



BOOKS. 



Irving's Works 1,100,001) copies. 

Irvine's Sketch Book 98,u00 " 

Longtellow's liiawatba, 43,000 " 

Hugh Miller's Works, 50,000 " 

Grace Aguilar's >\'orks, 157,^00 " 

New Ant. Cyclopaedia, Dana & Ripley, Iti vols., 45,000 sets. 
Benton^s Thirty Years' View, 2 vols., 8vo, 9S ,.000 copies. 

Kane's Arctic Voyages, 2 vols., 8vo 65,000 " 

Hariier's I'ictoriiii bible. §20, 25,000 " 

Goodrich's History of all Nations, S7 30,000 " 

Dana's IlousehoU Book of I'ootry, 75,000 " 

Kane's Voyages paid $G5,000 copyright. 
The sale of Prescott's Histories was very 
large, giving, it is said, 50 cts. copyright. 
Tlio sales of school books surpasses in quan- 
tity those of all other books. 

We have referred to the very large sales 
of AVebster's Spelliug-Books and Dictiona- 
ries. The aggregate of these to the clo,-e 
of 1871 exceeds sixty millions of volumes. 
For several years before Messrs. Cooledge 
& Brother relinquished the business (in 
]8o7), their sales of Webster's Speller were 
very nearly one million copies per annum. 
Messrs. Appleton became the publishers in 
1857, and thougli for several reasons their 
sales have, a portion of the time, been smaller 
than Cooledge's, yet their aggregate sales, to 
the close of 1871, were 13,o'J0,0U0 cojiies, 
and their present rate of issue is about 
l.OSO.OOO per annum. This house have also 
sold about two and a half millions of Cor- 
nell's Geographies, and more than 1,000,000 
copies of Quackenbos' Series of Text books. 
They are also the publishers of the " New 
Amerii-an," and the "Annual Cyclopaedia " 
of which about 1.200,000 Super Royal 8vo 
Volumes have been sold. They jiublish five 
or six ]ieri()dicals, most of them of very large 
circulation, and a Miscellaneous list second 
in extent only to JMessrs. Harper & Bros. 

Messr.-;. E. II. Butler & Co., of Pliila- 
delphia, the present publishers of Mitchell's 
Geographies, sell about 350,000 cojries an- 
nually, and the aggregate sale in the thirty- 
two years since their iiist publication has 
been about 9,500,0ii0 copies. Smith's Gram- 
mar, also ]iublished by this hou.se, sells at 
the rate of 100,000 copies a year. Over 
three milliinis of copies of it have been sold. 

Messrs. Ivi-on, Pliiiiiiey, Blakeman & Co., 
one of the largest houses in the .school-book 
trade, sell annually of their Sanders' Read- 
ers and Spellers over 1,000,000 copies, and 
of their other textbooks aliout 4,0(l0.OU0 
more. The Sanders' Spellers and Readers 
had been sold up to the close of 1871 to the 
extent of more than 2(i,000,0(»0 of copies ; 
Robinson's Mathematics, 4,000,000 of copies; 
Fasquelle's French, and Woodbury's Ger- 



man Series, 500,000 copies ; Spencerian 
Penmanship, 1,750,000 ; Swintou's History, 
30,000 copies in six months. 

Messrs. A. S. Barnes & Co , also largely 
engaged in the school-book trade, have sold 
in the agu;regato of Davies' Malhematical 
works about 7,000,000 volumes, and are now 
selling about 350,000 of them per annum. 
Of Mrs. AVil'ard's Histories their total sale 
has been about 350,01)0 ; of Clark's Gram- 
mars, 800,000 ; of Parker & Watson's Se- 
ries of Readers (completed 1S59) a total of 
about 7,500,000, and an annual sale of about 
700,000; Monteiih & McNally's Geogra- 
phies, tot.al about 4,750,000 ; annua! sales 
about 400,000. Steele's Fourteen Weeks 
Series in Sciences, annual .sale of about 
50,000. Of Cleveland's Compendiums and 
Wood's Botanies, each a total sale of about 
150,000. Their Teachers Library has sold 
about 100,000 volumes. Their total annual 
sales of the " National Scries " of text books 
are about 4,000,000 volumes. 

Messrs. Sargent, Wilson & Hinkle, of Cin- 
cinnati, the publi-hers of MeGutt'ey's Read- 
ers and the Eclectic Educational Series, sell 
annually about 3,500,000 volumes of these 
books. 

Messrs. Sheldon & Co., publish Stoddard's 
IMathematical series of which over 6,OoO,OoO 
copies have been sold; Collon's Geogra- 
]ihies, over '2,000,000; Comstock's text-books 
in Philosophy, Clicmistry, etc, 2,0oO,000 ; 
Bullion's Series of Gramma s and Cla-sics, 
whose sale has been very large, and Loss- 
ing's School Histories, also very popular. 

ftlessrs. Harper & Brothers have combined 
with the largest list of Miscellaneous pub- 
lications in the country a very extensive issue 
of school textbooks, of all kinds, to which 
they are constantly making .additions. They 
also publish three of the most widely-circu- 
lating periodicals in the United States. 
They employ an active capital of about two 
million dollars in stock and machinery, ex- 
pending more than S8oO,000 |]er annum for 
paper alone. They run over fifty power 
presses, tliirty -five of them Adams' presses, 
and many of them night and day. They 
have published 2,000 works, in over thirty- 
live hundred volumes, about equally divided 
between original works and reprints. Their 
is-ui's of bouiitl books amount to more than 
three and a half millions of volumes per an- 
num. 

Messrs. Lippincott & Co., of Philadelphia, 



BOOKS. 



269 



publish a large list of books, but their most 
importaut business is the jobbing of books 
to booksellers throughout the country. Their 
business in favorable years amounts to from 
five to nine millions of dollars. 

Messrs. Cowperthwait & Co., and Messrs. 
Claxton, Remscn & HafTelfinger are also 
leading houses in the school-book and job- 
bing trade. 

The sale of music books is very large. 
Sonic of the smaller music books for schools 
and Sunday-Schools have sold to the extent 
of moie than two millions of copies, and the 
" Carmina Sacra," a popular collection of 
church music, has had a sale of over 500,- 
000 copies. JNIessrs. O. Ditson & Co., of 
Boston, and C. II. Ditson & Co., Bigelow 
& Main, T. E. Perkins, F. J. Huntington 
& Co., Philip Phillips, A. S. Barnes & Co.. 
Horace Waters, and W. A. Pond & Co , of 
New York, Root & Cady of Chicago, E. H. 
Butler & Co., and Lee & Walker of Phila- 
delpliia are the largest music book publish- 
ers. 

The publication of agricultural books has 
been made a specialty by one or two houses, 
and one of these, Slessrs. Orange Judd & 
Co., who are also the publishers of the agri- 

1S20. 1830. 

School Books, S75l),000 l,lilu,090 

Classicil Text- Books 250,000 350,00) 

Theological and Religious 1 V),OjO 250,mOO 

Law, 200,000 300,000 

Medical 150.000 200,000 

AUothers, l,O:W,00D 1.3)0,000 

2,o.-U,000 3,500,000 

A i>art of this great increase from 1860 1 
to 1870 is due to the enhanced price of 
books since the war, but the greater part is 
the result of the new impulse given to edu- 
cation and intelligence in the nation. More 
than thirty millions of our people are read- 
ers and require books as regularly as they 
require food. It is computed that nearly 
two millions of the Freedmen have learned 
to read since 1803. The establishment of 
an efficient public school system in nearly 



seU 



cultural paper of largest circulation, 
very large quantities. 

Tlie following table gives the number of 
works of the ditfereut classes specilied, pub- 
lished in each year or period mentioned : 



Jan.,15-G, 
to Mar., 

1855. 1853. 1365. 1S71. 

Works. Works. Works. Works. 

Educational, 133 748 C7 288 

Natural History, Agricul- 
ture and Science, C5 160 189 327 

Kiograph.v, 121 213 150 lU 

Kssavs, I'oetrv, and Fiction, 776 1,007 4j5 629 

Theology and Iteliglon, 031 642 12D 383 

History 70 231 llll 93 

Juveniles, 92 117 312 803 

Music and Fine Arts, 42 I'A 37 145 

Vovaires and Travels, 3 157 25 117 

Medicine and Law, 29 133 65 312 

Drama, 29 23 .. 13 

'lassies, 13 61 10 67 

Mechanical Sciences, 23 80 42 48 

Miscellaneous, 94 290 113 

2,102 4,8Sii 1,812 3,'-".i7 

Of which were; Reprints,.. 049 1,492 276 622 

Mr. S. G. Goodrich (Peter Parley), in his 
'■ Recollections of a Life-time," gave a table 
of the value of books manufactured and sold 
at ditfereut periods in the United States. 
^Ve adtl to that table an estimate of the 
values of each class of books sold in 1870, 
based upon the census returns for tliat year : 

1340. IS.jO. IS.-.S. 1S-.0. 1870. 

2,1100,000 5,5OO,0.')0 7fl)'>,'.m 10,ljj,000 20.3)i,ij00 

55'1,000 1,000,000 1,000,000 2,000,000 3,100,0(X) 

300.000 500.000 OJIi.OUO 1,0011,11110 4,13 1,0 '0 

400.001 700,010 800,000 9011,1)110 l,200,ii00 
250,000 400,1100 5.50,000 700,000 050,000 

2,0011,000 4.400,000 4,900,010 6,o'i0,000 10.700,000 

5,500,000 12,500,000 16,000.000 21,200,000 40,700,000 

every State in the Union, the organization 
of a Nalional Bureau of education, the Pea- 
body Educational Fund, the establishment 
of schools of all grades for the Freedmen 
and their children, and the liberal endow- 
ment of so many instituiious of higher edu- 
cation have all tended to make the decade 
from 186l) to 1870 one remarkable for in- 
tellectual progress, and hence of necessity 
an era favorable to the wide diffusion of 
literature. 



PENS. 



The use of some implement for writing 
was a necessity immediately on the reduc- 
tion of the first language to writing, and 
very various are the instruments which have 
baea used for this purpose as, indeed, it was 



necessary they should be, from the great v.i- 
riety of materials on which the writing wa-s 
to be inscribed. The rock inscrijitions found 
in the Caucasus, in Arabia, in Petra. in Egypt, 
in India, Burmah, Siam, and China and else- 



270 



PliNS. 



where, must have been engraved by pointed 
iustruineuts of the hardest steel ; the iuscrip- 
tiuiis on the suiter limestones, steatites or 
taleose slates of Assyria and Babylon were 
obviously made witii a sharp cutting instru- 
ment, and tlie arrow-headed writing on their 
bricks was impressed with a punch or die. 
The tablets of lead, copper, or soft brass, 
required a steel pointed stylus. The waxen 
tablets required a stylus of ivory or bone, 
with a flat blade for making necessary era- 
sures, and when parchment and paper was 
used fur writing purposes, the sharp pointed 
stick, or later the reud pen was emiiloyed to 
inscribe upon these surftices the matters 
which needed to be written. The Chinese 
used and still use, a Camel's hair pencil 
charged witli the semi-liquid paste, known 
as India Ink. for the same purpose. The 
leaves of various species of palm are still 
used in the East for writing, and a pointed 
stick and the juice of some berries serve for 
pen and ink. With the introduction of pa- 
per into Eastern Europe in the seventh and 
eighth centuries, came the employment of 
the gray goose quill which for a thousand 
years and more, was the implement for wri- 
ters and scribblers of all sorts. Yet there 
were serious objections to the quill pen. Its 
point was only hard before it had been long 
soaked in ink, and it was far from being 
pei'uianent. It is said, indeed, that Dr. John 
Gill, the famous commenlator and theologian, 
wrote all his thirly or turty ponderous folios 
with one quill pen, anil that an old one when 
he began ; but it does not surprise us to be 
told by the same authority, that the printer 
of his works complained that he had been 
made blind by the effort to decipher Dr. 
Gill's manuscript. It resulted from this in- 
equality and rapid deterioration of quill 
pens that when the inventive genius of mod- 
ern nations was aroused, one of the first 
thing-! in which improvement was sought 
was the implement of the ready writer. 
The points required for a good pen were a 
firm, indestructible |)oint, great flexibility, 
nou-coiTosion of either pen or point, capacity 
to retain a sufficient quantity of ink to pre- 
vent the neces-iity of constant repleni.shing, 
and adaptability to the various tastes of wri- 
ters. Jletals .seemed to possess most of these 
qualities, but the early experiments with 
them proved failures. 

As early as 1803, attempts were made in 
Great Britain to make pens of steel. They 
had but a single slit, and were poor afTairs, 



though quite costly. Silver was tried with 
a little better success, but the points were 
too soft and the pen bent very easily. It 
was, moreover, too costly for general use. 
The improvements in steel pens made by 
jMason, Gillott, Perry, Levy, and other man- 
ufacturers between 1820 and 1830 and since 
that time, have rendered these useful little 
articles of great service to the world. By 
the use of machinery and the division of 
labor, their jiroduction was so greatly cheap- 
ened that they were put within the reach of 
all. In Fiirmingham, England alone, nearly 
1.500 millions of steel jjeus are annually 
made. Large numbers are also manufactured 
on the continent of Europe. Many attempts 
have been made to manufacture sieel pens 
in the United States, but without great suc- 
cess. One or two manufacturers have, how- 
ever, per.-evered in spite of all opposition 
and discouragements, and have succeeded in 
producing by the aid of machinery, a good 
pen at a fair price. The Washington Me- 
dallion pen has attained such a reputation 
as to be largely counterfeited in Germany 
and England. But the steel pen, po.pular 
and cheap as it has been and still is, does 
not answer all the requirements of a good 
pen. It is in its best estate wanting some- 
what in the pliancy of the quill ; it deterior- 
ates rapidly on use. .so that the handwriting 
can never be preci.-ely the s.ame on two suc- 
cessive days, and it soon corrodes and be- 
comes entirely worthless. Permaucmy and 
uniformity in execution are the indispensa- 
ble requisites for a perfect pen. 

It is not surprising then that attention 
sliould early have been turned to gold as 
most likely to fulfil these requisites. The 
first attempts were like those in steel, fail- 
ures. The first gold pens were made by 
John Isaac Hawkins, an American residing 
in England, about 1825. Mordan, the Eng- 
lish pencil case maker, also attempted to 
make them not long afti r, liut his jjcns were 
inelastic and poorer than Hawkins'. The 
use of iridium and osmium points to these 
pens is due to Mr. Hawkins, who soldered 
them on to the points of the petis he made. 
Rev. Mr. C'leveland, an American clergy- 
man, visiting Enghiiul, purchased of Haw- 
kins his right to make gold pens in 1835, 
and on his return induced Levi Brown, a 
watehm.aker in Detroit, to undertake their 
manufacture. At first Brown met with lit- 
tle success, but in 1840, he removed to New 
York and there the business grew in im- 



BOOK-BINDING. 



271 



portaiice. The pens made were, however, 
very unsatisfactory, and would be now con- 
sidered worthless except for old gold. About 
18 U, Mr. John liendell, an employe of 
Brown, commenced makin:; miehinery for 
the mmufaLiture of peas, which up to that 
time had been made almost entirely by 
hand. A. G. Bagley and a Ms. Barney, Mr. 
Leroy W. Fairchild, Mr. Spencer and Mr. 
Dixon, both of whom were subsequntly asso- 
ciated with M;. lljnlall, engage! in the 
manufacture between this periol and 185 >, 
and soon after several otherj commenced 
operations in a smill way. Very many in- 
ferior pens were thrown upon ths market, 
but thoie mide by the machinery of Ren- 
dell, improved by Fairchild, had a very good 
reputation. One of Fairchild's improve- 
ments consisted in bedding ths iridium points 
in the g)ld instead of soldering them a? had 
been done at first. In ISofl, there were in 
the Unite 1 Si vtes thirteen gold pel factories, 
eight of which were in New York, and one 
in Brooklyn. There were also two in Con 
necticiit, one in Massachusetts and one in 
Cincinnati. Five or six of these made pens 
of very fair quality, the rest produced only 
inferior good?, and most of them wortliless 
trash. 

In 18.51, Alexander Mort in, who had pre- 
viously been in the employ of Mr. Bagli'y, 
commenced the iminufacture of gold pens 
on his own account in New York City, and 
very soon by his inventions for tempering 
and finishing them wiih perfect uniformity, 
took the position which he and his successors 
have maintained to this day. For the first 
time in the history of the munufacnire, gold 



pen making was reduced to an exact science. 
Previously even the best makers could not 
duplicate a pen. Its exact temper and elas- 
ticity, and its perfect writing qualities were 
beyond their control, and hence theseleciion 
of a pen was a matter which must be at- 
tended to in person. Mr. Morton brought 
his machinery to such perfection, and was 
so exact and thorough in every department 
of the manufacture, that he could at once 
decide by a glance at the handwritiii j; of a 
customer what grade of pen would best suit 
him, and introduced the practice of filling 
individual orders by mail, and in the tea 
years, 1860-1870, forwarded some milliona 
of pens in that way. There arc now a .Ciy 
considerable number of manufacturers of 
gold pens in this country, some of them for- 
merly em|)loye3 of Mr. Morton, but while 
some of them make very gooil pens, there is 
lio uniformity about their manufacture, and 
most of them lack that permtment tem|ier 
and elasticity which are the result of Mr. 
Morton's processes. This peculiar excellence 
of Morton's pens has been recognizeil by 
English bankers and clerks, atnong whom 
these pens have the hicrliest reputation. AVe 
desire to be understood in re.rard to this 
matter. The oth -r pen manufacturers may, 
and we presume do, make occasiotiallj-, j)eiis 
as good as those made by the Morton pro- 
cess, but they cannot do it uniformly by any 
other niithod. We have no means of know- 
ing what has been the comparative success 
of the different manufacturers, nor is it a 
matter of any consequence in this work. It 
is only the perfection of the product which 
concerns us. 



BOOK-BINDING. 



CHAPTER I. 

B00K-BINDIN(5. 

The binding of books is an art probably 
older than the art of book printing itself, 
since there existed a necessity for confining 
the manuscripts and scrolls that were the 
medium of preserving thought in ancient 
days. Even that was a progress, however ; 
since the slabs of stone that bore the divine 



commandments could not Lave needed bind- 
ing, nor could the rocks and bricks, on which 
the Babylonians traced their ideas, have well 
been bound. The different modes of con- 
veying and preserving ideas, that were adopt- 
ed in different .nges and nations, caused re- 
course to be had to almost all materials ac- 
cording to exigencies, and these were pre- 
served according to the exigency. 

The books of wood, or metal, were bound 



2V-2 



BOOK-BINDING. 



by fiistening tlie sheets of whicli they were 
composed at the backs by hinges. When 
parcliment and paper succeeded, the backs 
of the sheets were sewed together, and the 
covcrhig varied as tlie arts progressed and 
materials were adopted. The art itself has 
made material progress only of recent years. 
It came to be a separate art only when the 
discovery of printing, by multiplying books, 
made the binding of them too laborious fur 
those who did it when years were sjiont in 
copying one book. In 778, Alcuin, a monk, 
native of England, commenced to copy the 
Bible, and finished it 800, for the Emperor 
Charlemagne. When twenty-two years was 
required to make one copy, there was not 
much business for the binder, whose labors 
commenced with those of the printing press. 
Wliile books were still comparatively dear, 
the binding bore a small proportion to tlie 
cost. Of late years, the tendency has been 
toward neatness and durability. The req- 
uisites of a well-bound book are solidity, 
elasticity, and elegance. Among the nations 
of Europe, the French take tlic lead in ar- 
tistic taste, but the English excel in the ex- 
pensive finish of the more costlv editions. 
In the United States, machinery is employed, 
more than elsewhere, to attain the desirable 
result at less cost. 

Books are printed upon paper of various 
sizes, which formerly were three, called royal, 
demy, and crown. The book took the size 
indicated by the paper used. The demy 
size was mostly used, and the sheets were 
folded a greater or less number of times. 
Thus, folded once in the middle, gives two 
leaves, or four pages, and is called folio. 
When the sheet is again filded, it gives four 
leaves, or eight pages, and is called (juarto ; 
folded again, the result is eight leaves, or 
sixteen pagei, and is octavo. By folding 
into twelve leaves, or twenty-four pages, we 
make a duodecimo ; and if into eighteen 
]eaves, or thirty-six pages, it forms octo- 
decimo. Of a size less than this, the books 
arc pocket editions. The sizes of books thus 
formed are generally designated as 4to, 8vo, 
12nio, 18mo, 24nio, 32mo, 48mo, etc. The 
size of the pritited page corresponds with the 
size of this fold. Thus, the size of this 
volume is royal octavo, being printed on 
paper a size larger than demy, or ordinary 
octavo. Each sheet of paper contains eight 
leaves, or sixteen pages; and there are fifty 
of these sheets in the book. Thus, the type 
is composed of sixteen pages in one " form," 



and one side of a double sheet receives the 
impression of those sixteen pages by one 
movement of the press, and then, being re- 
versed, receives an impression on the other 
side from the same tvpe. As the sheets leave 
the press they are hung up to dry, when they 
are placed under a hydraulic press of great 
power. They are then counted out into 
quires of twenty-four sheets each, and sent to 
the binders. There, in the folding room, the 
sheets are folded by girls. The object is to 
fold down the pages, so as to fall one upon 
the other with perfect accuracy, since upon 
this the proper binding of the book depends. 
The whole edition of sheets is folded with 
great rapidity by one girl. Some of these 
will fold 400 in an hour, but the average 
may be 300. A folding machine has lately 
been introduced, by which, it is said, two 
girls will do as much as eighteen by hand. 
Each sheet folded is a signature, and gen- 
erally these are designated by some figure 
at the bottom of the first page of each sheet. 
The fohled sheets are laid in piles, in the 
order of these signatures. The "gatherer" 
then, with the right hand, takes them, one 
by one, and places them in the left, until a 
complete set, or full book, is collected. This 
is performed so rapidly, that it is said an 
active girl will gather 25,000 in a day. 
After this, the sheets are " knocked up" 
evenlj', and pressed in a hydraulic press; 
but recentl}-, a machine has been introduced, 
by which time is economized. The en- 
graving, on another page, shows the figure 
of that by lloe <fc Company, which is the 
favorite for embossing, as well as compress- 
ing. The machine runs slower for smashing. 
The size, 15 by 17, weighs half a ton, and is 
sold at 8400. The book is now examined 
by the collector, in order to detect any error 
of arrangement in the signatures. The books 
then go to the sawing machine, where, being 
properly arranged, fine circular saws cut fine 
indentations in the books, to admit as many 
pieces of twine, to each of which each sheet 
is sewed. This is performed by girls, at a 
table appropriated for that purpose. When 
the sewing is complete, the "endpapers" 
are pasted on the book. 

The books next are trimmed by having 
the edges cut by a machine. To eft'ect this 
they are piled upon a platform, under a large 
knife, which, being worked by a crank, 
descends, like a guillotine, cutting a larg 
number at once. The figure of the trimming 
machine is given on another page. The 



PROCESS OF BOOK-BI\DING. 




LAYIXO OX llnl.D LEAF. 




emdos-jIxg press. 




sawim: machine. 




lIMfelll.XL. iiOU.M. 



BOOK-BINDING. 



273 



knife used in this machine is 21 inches long, 
and has a short, vibratory movement ; thus 
combining the advantages of the long sta- 
tionary knife with those of the ordinary 
plough. The work to be trimmed is placed 
against the adjustable guide on the bed of 
the press, in front of the knife, and is com- 
pressed by the wheel and screw. The table, 
on which the press stands, is adjustable in 
all directions, and is also self-acting, so that, 
when thrown into gear, it rises to the re- 
quired height and disengages itself — thus 
preventing injury to the knife — and then 
drops down to its original position. Three 
sides of the work can be successively pre- 
sented to the action of the knife, by simply 
turning the press to the quarter and half- 
turn stops. The machine can be worked 
either b}- hand or steam power, and can be 
easily adjusted to cut any size from 3 to 18 
inches long, and from 1 to 16 inches wide. 
This machine has been in operation some 
twenty-five years. Tlie backs now receive 
a coat of glue, to impart firmness. They 
are then, by the "backing machine" — which 
is an improvement of some ten years' stand- 
ing — rounded on the back, and receive a 
groove for the boards. Tliey are then cut 
on the ends. A piece of muslin, nearly as 
long as the book, and extending an inch 
over the sides, is then pasted on, and the 
book is ready to receive the boards, or cases. 
These consist of mill-boards cut a little larger 
than the book, and cloth cut large enough 
to turn over all. The cloth is glued, and 
one board is placed upon it. The corners 
of the cloth are then cut, and the edges 
turned down and rolled smooth. It is then 
dressed, when it goes into the hands of the 
stamper. The stamping, or embossing, is 
done in a press, from dies previouslv pre- 
pared. When the sides are lettered, the 
letters are engraved in metal, and impressed 
upon the cloth. Gold leaf is placed upon 
the cloth, and the heat of the stamp causes 
it to adhere in the desired places. The 
book is then pasted on the sides, placed in 
the covers, and pressed, when it is a book 
bound in cloth. The stamping, or, as it is 
sometimes called, the arming press, will per- 
form, almost instantaneously, what formerly 
would have required a week. This has been 
brought about by a combination of the arts 
— designing, die-sinking, and application of 
machinery. When a particular design is 
required upon a book, the artist draws it 



upon paper ; it is then cut in brass, or .steel, 
and this block in the press embosses a great 
many covers at a blow. 

With books bound in leather, the process 
is not so expeditious. In order to insure 
solidit}', the books were formerly beaten 
upon a stone with a broad-faced hammer. 
Thcj- are now squeezed between steel rollers, 
to effect the same object. The engraving 
of the rolling machine, in another column, 
will give a good idea of the one that is now 
used by bookbinders, in place of screw and 
hydraulic presses, for pressing folded sheets. 
The work is placed on an iron table in front 
of the rollers, between plates of iron, paste- 
board, or leather, and passed through the 
machine as often as necessary. The adjust- 
ing screws are geared together, so that the 
rollers are always parallel to each other. It 
is strongly geared, and may be run by cither 
hand or steam power. The sewing is done 
in a more substantial manner. The volume, 
placed in the laying press, has its back liam- 
mered very carefully, so as to spread the 
sheets on each side of the boards without 
wrinkling the inside, and the work proceeds 
until it leaves the hands of the finisher a 
perfect model. It opens easily, and lies flat 
out without any strain, and its hino-es are 
without crease. 

In gilding the edges of a book, they are 
scraped smooth and covered with a prepara- 
tion of red chalk, as a groundwork for the 
size, which is formed of one egg to half a 
pint of water. The gold is laid on the size, 
and then burnished with a bloodstone. 

The embellishment of book covers is called 
"tooling," and, when plain, blind tooling. 
By this latter, sometimes glossy black in- 
dentations are made to contrast tastefully 
with the rich color of the morocco. This 
is performed by wetting the morocco, and 
applying the tool in a heated state. 

There has been a method invented by 
which the leaves of a book are fixed together 
with India-rubber instead of sewing. The 
sheets being cut evenly, receive a solution 
of the material ; as each leaf is held only 
by the rubber, the book is made to lie very 
flat. This docs not appear to have come 
into much favor. The fashion of imitating 
antique styles of binding has led to the use 
of wood instead of pasteboard, in some fancy 
styles of costly books. It is only a passing 
caprice, since wood cannot supplant the 
pasteboard. 



WRITERS OF AMERICA. 



CHAPTER I. 

THEOLOGIANS— ST ATRSMEX— NOVELISTS 
—HISTORIANS. 

With the settlement of the coloTiies, there 
were necessarily hut few attempts at literary 
productions. The PiJLjrim Fathers hrouL(ht 
with them many books from their native 
land, but these were mostly bibles and theo- 
logical works. They were persons whose 
minds bore the stronc;est rclig'ioiis impres- 
sions. In them the sentiment of piety ap- 
proached austerity ; and they were not un- 
frecjuently charged with fanaticism. The 
time they had to devote to literature was 
wholly absorbed in the perusal of those de- 
votional works that sustained and ilhistrated 
that faith wdiich they had made their rule 
of action under all circumstances, and which 
they lived up to with all the sternness of 
their bold and decided characters. They 
had encountered the perils of the wilder- 
ness to rear free homes ; and they were de- 
termined, also, to make them temples to the 
Lord. It is not to be inferred that literature 
and the finer arts of life were, even at that 
remote period, f ireign to the people of the 
country. The founders of all the colonies 
were among tlie most elegant writers and 
accomplished scholars of the time. Such 
men as Raleigh, Baltimore, Penn, Ogle- 
thorpe, Smith, Winthrop, and a crowd of 
others, would have been ornaments to the 
most brilliant circles of any country : with 
them and tlieir successors, education and re- 
ligion were the foremost objects of atten- 
tion. But among men so busy with the 
work in hand, as to declare "that the laws 
of God should govern until they had time to 
make others," much general literature could 
not find cidtivation. Theological works were 
the staple, and these were produced with an 
independence of tliouglit and a vigor of ar- 
gument which encliained their adherents and 
astonished the opponents they had left at 
home. As the laws of God were the models 



of government, so were the inspired writers 
the only guides for the faith of that stead- 
fast people. Those original and strong 
thinkers were also powerful and prolific 
writers; and some of them won the first 
place, in the estimation of the learned, as 
theologians. Cotton Mather, who had no 
equal as a scholar, wrote 382 works, of one 
of which, " Essays to do Good," Dr. Frank- 
lin remarks : " It perhaps gave me a tone of 
thinking that had an influence upon some 
of the principal future events of my life." 
Thus was one of the most powerful minds 
of the eighteenth, or, indeed, any century, 
impressed with the vigorous style of a colo- 
nial author. The simple missionary, Jona- 
than Edwards, a large portii;>n of whose use- 
ful life was spent on the confines of civiliza- 
tion, produced works which, according to 
Dr. Chalmers, a centurj' .afterward, stamped 
him as " the greatest of theologians," and 
called from Sir James Jilackintosh tlie remark 
that, '" in power of subtle reasoning he w'as, 
perhaps, unmatched among men." Mr. Ed- 
wards succeeded to the presidency of the 
New Jersey College, and died in 1758. He 
was the type of the theological age of the 
country. His work became the standard 
of orthodoxy for enlightened Protestant Eu- 
rope. That voice, w liich was indeed " one 
crying in the wilderness," became tlie text- 
book of the most learned divines of the old 
world. 

As the colonies advanced in wealth and 
numbers, more diversified views naturally 
sprung up, but tlie books of amusement and 
instruction were mostly imported from Eng- 
land. There was little in the rude struggle 
with the wilderness to foster an independent 
school of literature, which flourished much 
better in England, wdiere existed all the re- 
sources of libraries and information. That 
bold and strong natural intellects, like that 
of Dr. Fianklin, should grow up, was almost 
a necessity of the vigorous race that pro- 
duced him ; and his works were at once ap- 



THEOLOGIANS STATESMEN NOVELISTS HISTORIANS. 



2l5 



preciatcd, because they reflected the genius 
of the people. The clear, strong sense of 
" Poor Richard "struck a responsive chord 
in ever}' heart, and there was little reason to 
be surprised that the almanac reached a cir- 
culation of 10,000 in 1705. The school 
system that had been early established by 
the colonists, laid a broad foundation for 
future literature. To make all classes of 
persons readers, was to create a demand for 
books that must sooner or later be gratified ; 
and writers and speakers were sure to find 
the avenue to the public mind when the oc- 
casion ottered. This presented itself when 
the disputes with the mother country began 
to take a serious form. Those events stirred 
the depths of feeling in all ranks and classes, 
and an army of orators rose into public 
view at once, to fan the flames of discontent 
into a conflagration that ultimateh' consumed 
the loyalty of the colonists, and loft their 
original sturdy independence of character to 
assert itself in political separation. The 
eloquence of Otis, of John Adams, Patrick 
Henry, Sanmel Adams, of Pinckney, of Piut- 
ledge, and others, live for us only in the ef- 
fects they produced, and of which our insti- 
tutions are the m.inifostati6n. Unhappily 
there were then no means of reporting by 
■which those soul-stirring speeches could be 
preserved, and we have but a few sketches 
of Fisher Ames and Patrick Henry. While 
those illustrious men roused the nation with 
their voices, numbers aided with their pens; 
among these, Thomas Paine's pamphlet, 
" Common Sense," and his series of tracts 
entitled "The Crisis," produced a marvellous 
effect. The papers in themselves, at the pres- 
ent da}', give no evidence of great ability, but 
they were fitted to the epoch with extraordi- 
nary aptness ; and tradition assures us that 
each, on its appearance, produced a furore 
difficult to conceive. The epoch was one of 
intense excitement ; and those papers held up 
clearly the dark side of kingcraft to a people 
in whose minds republicanism was making 
rapid growth. The pamphlets and papers 
that circulated at that period were, some of 
them, marked with great learning and power. 
The correspondence then carried on among 
public men, and which has since been col- 
lected and given to the public, surpasses in 
learning, political sagacity, grace of diction, 
vigor of thought, and power of expression, 
any thing of the kind that ever before ap- 
peared in any country. We, that read those 
papers by the light of seventy years of sub- 
17* 



sequent history, are better able to appreciate 
j the extraordinary ability they evince. The 
letters of Franklin, Jefferson, Jay, Adams, 
Washington, Morris, and others, will, while 
the nation lasts, be preserved as models of 
literary excellence. The publication of the 
" Federalist " was an era in political writing ; 
the work was the joint production of Alexan- 
der Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay. 
The papers were signed " I'ublius," and their 
object was to urge the importance of union 
in the adoption of the constitution. The 
statesmen of Europe regarded the work with 
admiration ; and the Edinburgh Review re- 
marked : " It exhibits an extent and pre- 
cision of information, a profundity of re- 
search, and an acuteness of understanding 
which would have done honor to the most 
illustrious statesmen of ancient or modern 
times." In his work on "Democracy in 
America," De Tocqueville remarks that " it 
ought to be familiar to the statesmen of 
every nation." If the reader of the present 
day is struck with the clear-sighted sagacity 
that the papers evince, how much greater 
is our admiration when we reflect that those 
statesmen were reared in our colonial state, 
without any of that experience which has 
shed its light upon us. The wisdom they 
displayed was the result of their own pro- 
found deliberation. The writings were an 
interchange of views between a race of in- 
tellectual giants who were giving birth to a 
nation. The works of James Madison com- 
prise fifteen octavo volumes of 600 pages 
each, and are distinguished for sound- 
ness of reasoning, and great sagacity. The 
report of Hamilton, as secretary of the 
treasury, on banks and manufactures, was of 
great celebrity ; and, as far as it described 
the existing state of affairs, was valuable. 
It is to be borne in mind that he was one of 
a race of Titans who were orjranizinff a na- 
tion of a kind that never before existed ; and 
if the views he advocated have not been 
justified by the experience that the nation 
has wrought out in the last seventy years, it 
is not surprising ; nor can his great wisdom 
be taxed on that account any more than the 
vast ability of Patrick Henry be questioned 
because he opposed the new constitution. 
The writings of Jefferson, the statesman and 
patriot, were of a nature more durable and 
statesmanlike than the efl'usions of Hamilton, 
which were more the products of a subor- 
dinate executive officer than a directing 
head. The pen which wrote the Declaration 



2V6 



WRITERS OF AMERICA. 



of Independence and the state papers, wrote, 
also, the " Notes on Virginia," the autobiog- 
raphy, correspondence, and Anas, included 
in the four volumes of his works published 
after his death by Mr. Randolph. Of the same 
age as these eminent statesmen, was John Mar- 
shall, the celebrated chief justice of the Uni- 
ted States. Judge Marshall appeared as an 
''author in 180.5, when he published his "Life 
of Washington." The introductory volume, 
being a " History of the Colonies planted by 
the English on the ( 'ontinent of North Amer- 
ica," was published separately in 1824. In 
1832 an abridgment of his " Life of Wash- 
ington" appeared. Jlr. Marshall occupied the 
posts of minister to France and secretary of 
state, and his state papers commanded admi- 
ration as of the very highest order. His ap- 
pointment and career as chief justice seems to 
have been one of those special providences 
tliat have so often manifested themselves on 
behalf of the United States as a nation. Tlie 
powers of the Supreme Court are such as 
were never before, by any people, confided to 
a judicial tribunal. It determines, without 
appeal, its own jurisdiction, and that of the 
legislature and the executive. It is not mere- 
ly the highest court in the whole country, but 
the constitution of the country is in its hands. 
This tribunal was to decide upon every 
question that should arise under the new 
constitution, in relation to all the rights and 
powers of each department of government, 
and also those of all the states. A want of 
ability or of integrity upon the part of the 
court, possessed of such power, might, 
by vicious interpretation, have destroyed 
the whole fair faliric that had been raised 
with so nmch care and wisdom. This im- 
mense responsibility devolved upon John 
Marshall, and nolily did his great capacity 
and sterling integrity meet the occasion. 
During thirty -four years, that great man de- 
cided every <|uestion that arose; and, so to 
speak, fairly launched the constitution and 
government upon the stream of time. 

Cotemporary with Judge Marshall, upon 
the supreme bench, was Joseph Story, who, 
born in Massachusetts in 1779, was appoint- 
ed in 1811, and held the office until his death 
in 1845, a period of thirty-four years, during 
twenty-four of which he was associated with 
Judge Marshall, and displayed talents worthy 
of such a colleague. His literary writinfs 
were published in 1835, comprising sketches 
of eminent men, and other papers. 

The eminent statesmen >\ho have adorned 



the literature of their country, have been 
many. Henry A\ heaton, Esq., who was bom 
in 1785, served the country in many capacities. 
He published the most complete work on 
international law, in 1835. John Quincy 
Adams, one of the most remarkable men of 
the country, was born in Braintree, July, 
1 767, while his great-grandfather, who was 
born in the reign of Charles II, yet lived. Mr. 
Adams graduated at Harvard College in 
1787, just 100 years after the birth of his 
great-grandfather. He chose the law as a 
profession, and began to write for publication 
over the signature of " Publicola." He re- 
plied to some portions of Paine's "Rights of 
Man." Washington appointed him minister 
to the Netherlands from 1794 to 1801. He 
had, also, appointed him to Portugal, but 
while on his way, his destination was 
changed to Berlin by the accession of his 
father to the presidential chair. While in 
Berlin, Jlr. Adams became acquainted with 
German literature. A scries of letters at 
this period to his brother in Philadelphia, 
was afterward published. They were of 
high interest. Subsequently, he was a 
member of the Massachusetts legislature, 
and professor of oratory at Harvard P^niver- 
sity. He was appointed minister to Russia 
by President Madison. From thence he was 
transferred to Ghent, to negotiate peace in 
company with Messrs. Bayard, Clay, and 
Gallatin. Afterward, he was appointed min- 
ister to St. James. He was eight years in 
the cabinet, and four years president. In 
1831, he was sent to the House of Repre- 
sentatives, where he remained until his 
death, in 1848. He filled more of the high 
offices of government, than any other man 
in the country. The largest portion of his 
published writings consists of orations and 
miscellaneous discourses of a high charac- 
ter. He gave to the world some essays 
upon Shakspeare ; also, translations from 
the German of Wieland. In 1832 he pub- 
lished " Dermot Mac Morrogh ; ATale of the 
Twelfth Century," with some shorter poems, 
chiefly lyrical. All the writings of Mr. 
Adams display the most mature scholarship, 
but the statesman seems to have oversliad^ 
owed the man, since it is probable that from 
a less eminent person the}' would have been 
more highly considered. 

W^illiam Wirt was born in 1772, at P>la- 
dcnsburg, Maryland, and became a lawyer 
in 1792, in which profession he was emi- 
nently successfuk in 1802, he wrote the 



THEOLOGIANS STATESMEN NOVELISTS HISTORIANS. 



277 



"British Spy," which had a great success. In 
1807, he earned a great reputation by his 
famous speech in favor of Blennerhasset. 
lie produced many works before he gave to 
the world his extraordinary "Life of Patrick 
Henry" in 1817. That work lias an endur- 
ing reputation. 

Daniel Webster, that type of New England 
intellect, was born in 178:3, in the same year 
with Audubon, the great American naturalist, 
lie was a New England farmer's son, of 
Salisbury, N. 11., and pursued learning with 
the indomitable energy of his race — teach- 
ing school as he himself acquired learning — 
forcing his way to notice, until he acquired 
a world-wide reputation. His earliest liter- 
ary performance was in 180C, wlien 24 years 
of age, being a Fourth of July oration. He 
was a contributor to the North American 
Jicvicw, and his orations on different occa- 
sions were eagerly read in every section of 
the country. No speeches were more 
fraught with wisdom and eloquence, or had 
greater influence upon the public mind, 
since, being models of their kind, many are 
daily read in the public schools. He is so 
thoroughly American, and so in earnest in his 
expositions of the constitution, that his name, 
to use his own expression, must ever have an 
" odor of nationality." He speaks always to 
the understanding, and always with effect. 

In the same year in which Webster 
was born. South Carolina gave birth to her 
great statesman, John C. Calhoun. He was 
born in Abbeville district, in March, 17S2. 
He graduated at Yale College in 1804, 
and began the study of law, in which he 
attained great success. In 1809, he was 
elected to the state legislature. In 1811, 
he was elected to the House of Representa- 
tives, immediately taking a foremost post, 
until 1817, when lie became secretary of 
war under Mr. Madison, and so continued 
eiglit years. Subsequently, he was twice 
elected vice-president, the last time in 
1828. He soon resigned for the Senate, 
where he continued until his death, in 1850. 
Mr. Calhoun was one of the most extraor- 
dinary men of the country, and one of 
those whose works will live far into poster- 
ity. His eloquence was of a most refined 
cast, and distinguished for its compact rea- 
soning. He was possessed of that quick- 
ness of perception and subtleness of argu- 
ment, wliich made Jonathan Edwards the 
first of theologians. His works liave been 
collected since his death, in six volumes. 



Cotemporary with Webster and Calhoun, 
were the great orators. Clay, Mangum, and 
others, whose speeches belong to the stand- 
ard literature of the country, but who have 
not contributed to it directly by writing. 
Thomas II. Benton, the great Missouri sena- 
tor, was born in North Carolina in 1782, and 
pursued the study of law. In his " Thirty 
Years' View" of the American government, 
he has contributed a work of great value to 
the historical literature of the country. That 
great work is not only a faithful record of 
the political history of the country for the 
thirty years, but the clear Saxon style in 
which it is composed, gives it a charm sel- 
dom found in similar productions. When 
this work was completed, he commenced the 
task of condensing, reviewing, and abridg- 
ing the debates of Congress, from the foun- 
dation of the government, which he lived to 
bring down to the compromise measures of 
1850. With a strong intellect and bold 
character. Col. Benton was well calculated to 
dominate in the w^estern states. In Mis- 
souri, at one time, his power was boundless. 

The brothers Everett have deservedly oc- 
cupied a high place among the literary men 
of the country. The elder, Alexander, was 
born in 1790, in Boston. He graduated at 
Harvard in 1806, and pursued the profes- 
sion of law, but filled many offices of public 
trust, being minister to China at the time of 
his death, in 1847. During his life, his at- 
tention was never long diverted from litera- 
ture, and his writings were numerous in the 
North American. Reviviv, of which his 
brother, Edward, was editor, and elsewhere. 
Edward Everett was born in 1794, and grad- 
uated at Harvard in 1811. He began the 
study of law, but adopted theology, and at 
19 years was called to the Brattle street 
church, Boston, to fill the vacancy caused 
by the death of jMr. Buckminster, one of 
the most remarkable orators of modern 
times. He was soon after elected Greek 
professor at Harvard. While filling that 
office, he published some school books. 
In 1820, he became the editor of the 
North American Revietr, to which he large- 
ly contributed. He became member of 
Congress, and afterward governor of Massa- 
chusetts. He was minister to England, 
president of Harvard College, and United 
States senator. Like his brother of opposite 
politics, he has enjoyed a succession of offices, 
and was, in 1860, the candidate of a large 
party for the vice-presidency. When Lord 



278 



WRITERS OF AMERICA. 



Macaulay, from over occupation, declined to 
add a memoir of Washinjfton to the many 
brilliant biographical papers ho prepared for 
the new edition of the "Encyclop:wlia Brit- 
annica," he suggested to the publishers of 
that work, that his friend Edward Everett 
would be the very man to execute the task. 
He prepared the paper, which was subse- 
quently republished here. Mr. Everett died 
in 186.5, ill the height of liis fame. 

John P. Kennedy, was born in Balti- 
more, Md., Oct. 25, 1795. He pursued the 
law as a |irofcssion ; was a member of Con- 
gress 1837-1), and 1841-5, and Secretary of 
the Navy in 185"2. He was one of the most 
genial and jjopular of writers. lie was, 
perhaps, best known as the author of the 
" Memoirs of William Wirt," iiubrshcd in 
1819, a " Defence of the Whigs" 1841, 
'•Horse Shoe Robinson," 1835, and " Rob of 
the Bowl," published in 183H, followed by 
"Annals of Quodlibet," in 18 10. His de- 
lineations of nature were truthful, and his 
character-drawing marked with great del- 
icacy and freedom. He died in 1870. 

Hugh S. Legare was born in South Cor- 
olina, in 1797, and graduated at the South 
Carolina College, following the law as a pro- 
fession. He died in 1843. In 1820, he was 
sent to the state legislature, and subsequently 
was appointed attorney-general of the state, 
was made charge d'affaires at Brussels, and 
chosen to Congress in 1836. His contribu- 
tions to the Ni'w York Jicniezv gave him a 
high literary reputation. In 1846, a collec- 
tion of his writings was published in 
Charleston, establishing his high reputation 
as of the first class of intellects. 

There are a number of others of our states- 
men and political men, who have contribu- 
ted by their writings to the literary capital 
of the country, but we have here selected 
only the most prominent of them. 

Of those who have m.ado literature a pro- 
fession, Charles B. Brown seems to have 
been the first. He was born in 1771, in 
Philadelphia, and was of very early promise. 
In New York, in 179.3, he was introduced to 
a literary society, which numbered among its 
members James Kent, afterward chancellor. 
Dr. Mitchill, Dunlap, Bleecker, and others. 
In 1797, he published a work on the rights 
of women, which then found less favor than 
some writers on the same subject have more 
recently experienced. lie published, subse- 
quently, a number of works that met with 
no very great success. 



A year younger than Daniel Webster 
was Washington Irving, born in N. Y. City, 
April 3, 1 78.'], die<l in 1 «.")9. Mr. Irving, " the 
prince of story tellers," is the admitted leader 
of American literature. 1 lis first publicaiions 
were in 1802, over the signature of Jona- 
than Oldstyle, Gent., in the Monihir/ Clironi- 
clr, of which his brother was editor. In 
1806, in connection with James K. Paul- 
ding, ho began writing "Salmagundi." This 
created a great sensation. It attacked, with 
amusing ridicule, the ignorance, presumption, 
and vulgarity of the British tourists, and sat- 
irized pretenders at home and abroad in a 
most effective manner. He soon after com- 
menced the "History of New York, by Died- 
rich Knickerbocker," which must ever remain 
the finest monument of liis genius. He 
was connected in business with his brothers, 
and upon the failure of the firm, he was, 
happily for the public, forced to depend up- 
on literature for support. His next produc- 
tion was the " Sketch Book," published in 
New York and in London, in 1819-20. Its 
success was great at home and abroad, fully 
establishing the fame of the author. From 
that date, his works appeared at pretty reg- 
ular intervals, although he was absent from 
the country seventeen years, up to 1832. 
Soon after, he purchased the old mansion of 
the Van Tassels, on the Hudson, near 
"Sleepy Hollow." He then resumed his lit- 
erary labors until his appointment as minis- 
ter to Spain, in 1841. He returned, in 
1846, to his residence, and remained there 
until his death, still continuing, at times, to 
add to the list of his productions, the last 
of which was the "Life of Washington," 
which has had a sale probably as extensive 
as all the rest of his works, ;uid the aggre- 
gate of which will exceed half a million vol- 
umes. It may be said that he has been one 
of the most successful of authors. 

James K. Paulding, the colleague of Ir- 
ving in " Salmagundi," was four years his sen- 
ior, having been born in 1779, in the town 
of Pawling, on the Hudson. Notwith- 
standing the great success of " Salmaguntli," 
the publisher refused to remunerate the 
writers, and it was brought suddenly to a 
close. In 1813, Jlr. Paulding published a 
satirical poem, called " The Lay of a Scotch 
Fiddle," and in 1816 the most humorous of 
his satires, "The Diverting History of John 
Bull and Brother Jonathan," was published. 
His works were numerous up to 1831, when 
the "Dutchman's Fireside" appeared, meeting 



THEOLOGIANS STATESMEN NOVELISTS HISTORIANS. 



279 



with great success. It is called the best of 
his novels. This was followed by " West- 
ward, IIo!" in which his characters are 
drawn with great truth and vigor. His 
sketch of the Kentucky hunter in his com- 
edy of "Nimrod Wildfire," has met with great 
popularit}-. In 1837, Mr. Paulding became 
secretary of the na\'y under Mr. Van Bu- 
ron. On his retirement he resumed his pen, 
and some of his later productions were con- 
tributions to the iJeiiiocratic Jicview. All 
the works of Mr. Paulding would probably 
reach some thirty volumes. His works 
evince great descriptive power, skill in ciiar- 
acter drawing, with much humor and a 
strong natural feeling running through them 
all. Mr. Paulding died in I'lSGO. 

James Fenimoro Cooper, the most'widely 
known of American novelists, as well as the 
most distinguished, was born in 17S9, at 
Burlington, New Jersey. He became a stu- 
dent in Yale College in 1802, in the same 
year with John C. Calhoun. On quitting 
college, in 1805, he entered the navy as a 
midshipman, for which position his daring 
and open-hearted nature seemed to fit him. 
He was very popular in the service, and a 
most promising officer, when, after six years 
of sea service — more than many old otlicers 
see in a whole life-time — he resigned, mar- 
ried, and finally retired to Cooperstown, N. Y. 
His first work was " Precaution," which had 
success, but not that eminent success that 
attended his subsequent works. His next 
work was the " Spy." This was decidedly 
the best historical romance ever written by 
an American, and its success was immense. 
Notwithstanding many attempts of the press 
to speak slightly of it, it created a furore in 
the public mind, and imparted an immense 
impulse to literature. The work was imme- 
diately republished in all parts of Europe, 
and it demonstrated the fact that everybody 
read " an American book," since even in 
England it rivalled the Waverley Novels in 
pojiularity. A few years before his death, 
Mr. Cooper received information that it had 
been translated into the Persian, Arabic, 
and some other oriental languages. ^Vhen 
it is remembered that this story was a life 
picture of the struggle for independence, the 
ertcct of such a wide-spread circulation 
among readers under every form of govern- 
ment, may be estimated. 

In 1823, the "Pioneers" made its appear- 
ance, commencing that series of Leather- 
stocking tales that w ill last while the coun- 



try stands. The next work of Mr. Coop- 
er's opened the series of his sea talcs, in 
which he stands confessedly without a 
rival. Those two lines of romance, the 
American forest and the domain of Nep- 
tune, Mr. Cooper made peculiarly his own, 
and they both illustrate scenes peculiarly 
American. The "Pilot," it is said, originated 
in the fact that the " Pirate" of Sir Walter 
Scott having recentl}' appeared, the conver- 
sation turned upon the faultiness of the sea 
delineation, and Cooper undertook to write 
a sea story in which the seamansliip could 
not be criticised, and the " Pilot" resulted. 
Its success was unbounded. The next work 
was "Lionel Lincoln," a story of the war dur- 
ing the British occupation of Boston, and 
although it was quite equal to the "Spy," yet 
for some reason did not take with the f)ublic 
m so great a degree. In 1820, the "Last of 
the Mohicans" was produced, and it had a 
success from the first, greater tlian any novel 
had c\cr before had. It was purely orig- 
inal, introducing for the first time upon the 
field of literature, that race of men of whom 
but a few jears will leave only the tradi- 
tion. In the "Pilot,"a real seaman for the 
first time came upon the stage, in the person 
of Paul Jones ; and in the "Mohicans," the 
red man made his di'hut in the person of 
Uncas. Mr. Cooper immediately took rank 
in England as one of the first romance writ- 
ers of this, or any other age. Like the 
"Spy," it was reproduced in everj- language of 
Europe. The "Prairie" appeared next, while 
Mr. Cooper was in Europe, and it carried 
the reputation of the writer to a still higher 
point. That work was succeeded by the 
" Red Rover," which was followed by the 
" Water Witch." The labors of Mr. Coop- 
er continued up to 1 839, when his " History 
of the American Navy" appeared. It had a 
great and deserved success. It is a noble 
monument to the gallant service which, 
springing from the bosom of a newly formed 
country, successfully grappled with the ty- 
rant of the seas, and demonstrated to the 
world that a new power had arisen to re- 
dress the balance of the old upon the ocean. 
There followed this work a continuation of 
the Leather-stocking talcs, in the "Pathfinder" 
and the "Deerslayer," both of which sustained 
the high reputation of the series. The com- 
plete works of Mr. Cooper embrace a great 
number of volumes. Not all of them are 
of the high grade of those which have given 
him a world-wide character. There is not 



280 



WBITi KS OF AMEIilCA. 



a language in Europe into wliich they were 
not all translated as soon as they appeared 
in London. The readers of books in South 
America, in India, thi-oughout England, and 
in Russia, are fomihar with the name of 
Coo])er, even where America is only known 
as his home. 

James Hall, born in Philadelphia in 1793, 
died in 1868, made many contributions to 
our literature. He was the author of " Le- 
gends of tlie West," ''A History of the Li- 
(liau Tribes of North America," "The Wil- 
derne^s and the War Path." 

Tlie years 1801 to 1810 were prolific in 
the production of authors. Not less than ten 
distinguished writers were born in those 
years : Theodore S. Fay, Geo. li. Cheever, 
Clias. F. Hoffman, C. M. Kirkhind, Nathan- 
iel llawtliorne, N. P. Willis, II. W. Long- 
fellow, W. G. Simras, Joseph C. Neal, S. M. 
Fuller. ]Mr. Fay was educated for the 
New York bar, and published first, in 18.32, 
" Dreams and Reveries of a Quiet Man," 
and essays written for the New York Mirror, 
in which he was associated with Willis, Gen. 
Morris, Rufus Dawes, etc. His novel of 
"Norman Leslie" is better known. In 1837 
he produi'ed tlie " Countess Ida ;" subse- 
quently, " Hoboken ; a Tale of New York." 
He has spent nio<t of his life abroad, under 
goverumi'nt appointments. 

Rev. Dr. Clieever was born in Maine, in 
1807, educated at Bowdoin College anil Au- 
dover Semiu;u'y. He preached first at Sa- 
lem and afterwards in N. Y. City, but has 
for some time past been without a charge. 
He travelled extensively in Europe and has 
written several interesting volumes of trav- 
els, and a number of religious and controver- 
sial works. He now resides in New Jersej'. 

Charles F. Holfman was born in New 
York in 180t), graduated at Columbia Col 
lege, and commenced the study of the law. 
He began his literary career as editor of the 
Nw York American, associated with Charles 
King, Esq., since president of Columbia 
College; and in 1835 published "A Win 
ter in the West," which met with great suc- 
cess both in London and in New York. This 
was followeil by " Wild Scenes in the For- 
est and the Prairie," and subsequently by 
" Greyslaer." Mr. Hoffman estabhshed the 
Knickerbocker Magazine in 183S. In 1843 
he published "The Vigil of Faith;" and 
later several songs and essays. Since 1850 
ho has been hopelessly insane. 



Nathaniel llawthoiue was Lorn in .S.ufui 
in 180-t, and graduated from Bowdoin Col- 
lege, in Maine, in IiS25. In 1837 he pub- 
lished " Twice Told Tales," that hail previ- 
ously appeared in periodicals, in book Ibrm. 
In 1846 a new collection of his magazine 
papers was published, under the name of 
" Mosses from an Old Manse." He had a 
custom-house appointment in Boston, under 
Collector Bancroft, and subsequently joined 
the Fourierite community at " Brook Farm," 
lloxburj-. Afterward appeared " The Scar- 
let Letter," and "The House of Seven Ga- 
bles," which confirmed his rank as one of 
the great masters of romance. He was one 
of the most distinguished of American wri- 
ters ; and was appointed consul to Liverpool 
Ijy President Pie:ce. In 1851 he published 
" True Stories from History and Biogi aphy ; " 
in 185-2, "The Snow Image;" in 1853, 
"The Wonder Book;" in 1851), "The Mar- 
ble Faun." Mr. Hawthorne died in 1864. 

N. P. Willis was a native of Poriland, but 
went early to Boston ; whence he entered 
Yale College, where he graduated in 1827. 
He was then engaged by S. G. Goodrich, 
since known as " Peter Parley," to edit 
"The Token." About the jear 1830 he 
was appointed attache of the American le- 
gation at Paris ; iu which capacity he col- 
lected the materia's for " Pencillings by the 
Way," which was first published iu the New 
York Mirror. In 183'J he was one of tlie 
editors of the Corsair, which was short- 
lived. In 1840 an illustrated edition of his 
poems was puUli-hed, and his "Letters from 
under a Bridge." In 1843, in connection 
with Geo. P. Morris, he revived the Mirror, 
which lived but a few months. In 184C, the 
two authors commenced the Home Journal, 
which continues to fiourish. Mr. Willis had 
a wide reputation at Lome and abroad. 
While he won the admiration of the most 
refined taste, he enjoyed a wide popularity 
as a writer of light literature. Sir. Willis 
died in 18G7 at Idlewild on the Hudson. 

Henry W. Longfellow was born in Port- 
land, Me., in 1807. He graduated at Bow- 
doin College, and commenced the study of the 
law; but abandoned it for a professorship of 
modern languages in Bowdoin College, 
which office he assumed in 1829. He 
speedily won the reputation of a most grace- 
ful poet, as well as of an accomplished 
scholar. In 1836 he was called to the pro- 
fessorship of modern languages at Harvard 



THEOLOGIANS STATESMEN NOVELISTS HISTORIANS. 



281 



College, which he has since retained. In 
1833 he published his translation from the 
Spanish of the Coplas of Don Jortre Man- 
riquc. In 1835 he published " Outre-Mer," 
and in 1838 " Hyperion ; a Romance," fol- 
lowed by other poems. The merits of Mr. 
Longfellow as a poet arc of the highest order. 
Some of his poems have liad an unnsual suc- 
cess. " Iliaw.atha" circulated to the extent 
of 45,000 copies, and the " Courtship of 
Miles Standish " acquired great popularity. 

W. Gilmore Sinims was a native of 
Charleston, South Carolina, ami became a 
lawyer in that city. When only eighteen 
years of age, he published his tii'st poems, 
lyrical and others. Tliese were followed, 
successively, by '• Early Lays," " The Vision 
of Cortes," and, in 1830, by the " Tri color." 
In 1832, while traveling at the north, he 
wrote, at Hingham, Alass., his cliief poem — 
'■Ataliintis ; a Story of the Sea " This was 
followed by the stories of "Martin Faber;" 
" Guy Rivers : A Tale of Georgia ;" " The 
Yemassee : A Tale of South Carolina; " and 
these by a great number of poems, historical 
romances, revolutiouary storie:^, histories and 
biographies, essays, and reviews — making in 
all iifty volumes. Mr. Simms died in 1870. 

John Grccnlcaf Whittier was born in 
Haverhill, Mass., in 1807. His parents were 
members of the Society of Friends. Re- 
ceiving a very thorough English education, 
at the age of twenty-two he became editor 
of the American Manufacturer at Boston, 
and in L830 succeeded George D. Prentice 
in the Hew En'/land Wcehlij Review at 
Hartford. In 1831 he published "Legends 
of New England," and in 1 833 returned to 
his early home, where ho published an essay 
entitled "Justice and Expediency; or, Sla- 
very Considered with a View to its Abt)li- 
tion." In 1836, he became secretary of the 
American Anti-Slavery Society, and soon 
after removed to Philadelphia, where ho 
edited for some years the Pcnnsi/lvania 
Freeman. Meantime ho had been writing 
some stirring poems, afterward collected 
under the title of " Voices of Freedom." In 
1840 lie settled at Amesbury, Mass., and 
since that time has been a prolific writer 
of lioth prose and poetry. His poems have 
been collected in several forms, and entitle 
him to rank among the foremost of American 
poets. 

Joseph C. Neal, born in Greenl.and, N. H., 
in 1807, became editor of the Philadelphia 
Pennsylvanian in 1831, and, after ten years' 



conection with it, started the Saturday Ga- 
zette. He is best known by a humorous vol- 
ume — " Charcoal Sketches." He died in 
1848. 

Fitz-Greene Halleck (born 1785) be- 
longed rather to the period of Cooper and 
Irving than to the more recent cla~s of po- 
etical writers. He wrote sparingly, but his 
"Marco Bozzaris" and "Alnwick Castle" 
will live. He died in 18G7. 

Edgar A. Poe (born 1811 — died 1849) 
was both a poet and prose writer, a man of 
extraordinary genius. 

James Russell Lowell (born 1819), editor 
of Atlantic Monthly, and later of the North 
American licview, is, perhaps, the ablest of 
our younger poets, ))osse;sing both humor 
and pathos. His " Biglow Papers" and his 
more serious poems have great merit. His 
I)rose writings are admirable. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes (born 1809) has 
distinguished himself both in prose and po- 
etry. His humor is both delicate and pun- 
gent, and his ])athetic pieces full of feeling. 
J. G. Saxe (born 181G) has a high reputa- 
tion as a humorous poet. Alfred B. Street 
(born 1811) is a poet of great descriptive 
power. Of the younger literary men, 15ay- 
ard Taylor, as traveler, poet, and novelist, 
occupies a very high rank. R. 11. Stoddard, 
T. B. Aldricli,.!. R. Thomp.son. G. II. Roker, 
T. B. Reed, AV. Allen Butler, and E. C. 
Stedman, have all won a high reputation. 

Among the clerical contributors to general 
literature. Rev. Timothy Dwight, D. D. (born 
1753 — died 1817), deserves the first place. 
In 1774 he published an epic poem, "The 
Conquest of Canaan," which was followed by 
numerous lyric pieces. After his accession 
to the presidency of Yale College in 1795, 
he published " Travels in New England and 
New York " in four volumes, the best picture 
of the life and manners of those times now 
extant. 

Timothy Flint was born in Reading, Mass., 
in 1780, and graduated nt Harvard College, 
after which he was settled as a minister, but 
soon departed for the west, whore he col- 
lected the materials for his " Recollections 
of Ten Years in the Valley of the Missis- 
sippi," which wore published in 1826. The 
success of this work was so great as to in- 
duce him to make literature his profession. 
His next work was " Francis Bcrrian ; or. The 
Mexican Patriot," followed by the " Geo- 
graphy and History of the Mississippi," in 
1827. These works were followed by many 



282 



WRITERS OF AMERICA. 



others, and, in 1833, Mr. Flint had charge of 
the Knickerbocker Ma(jazine fur some time, 
after which he removed to Cincinnati, and 
continued tliere until his death. 

William E. Channincj was born at New- 
port in 1780. He graduated at Harvard in 
1798, Judge Story being his classmate. 
On leaving college, he became a tutor in a 
family of Virginia. lie was ordained pastor 
of the Federal street churcli in Boston in 
1803, and he continued there until his death 
in 1 842. His earliest publications were 
theological, particularly one on the " Uni- 
tarian Belief," in 1819, which excited gre.-it 
attention. In 1823, he published an essay 
upon " National Literature." This was fol- 
lowed by " lieniarks on the Life and Charac- 
ter of Napoleon IJonajiarte." The address de- 
livered in Boston, on "Self- Culture," in 18;J8, 
was regarded as one of his best efforls. His 
later work< were religious and reformatory. 

Joseph S. Buelvminsler was lioni at Ports- 
moulhtn 1784, graduated from Harvard Col- 
lege in 1800, became pastor of Brattle street 
church in 1805, and died in 1812, with a 
great rejiutation for eloquence and literary 
genius, though he had pulilished but little. 

Andrews Norton was born in Ilingham in 
178(j, graduated from Harvard in 1804, and 
was prof ssor of sacred literature, &c. there 
from 1813 to 18.'30. He wrote many valu- 
able works, chiefly controversial, and some 
poems of gr(>at beauty. 

Hoi'ace Bushnell was born in Connecticut 
in 1802, and graduated at Yale College in 
1824. At one time, he was literary editor 
of the N. T. Journal of Commerce ; from 
1833 to 185G he was pastor of a Congrega- 
tional church in Hartford. His first theologi- 
cal work was published in 1847, and he has 
since written largely on various topics. 

Orville Dewey was born in 17!) I, in Shef- 
field, Mass. He graduated at Williams Col- 
lege in 1814. He supplied the pulpit of Dr. 
Cliaiming when that gentleman went to Eng- 
land. After being settled ten years in New 
Bedford, lie became i)astor of the Church of 
the Messiah in New York, but IVom 1858 to 
11^02 was again pastor in Bo-ton. lie has 
published many volumes at difierent times on 
various sulijicts ; among others, in 1836, 
"The Old \Vorld and the New;" in 1838, 
" Moral Views of Commerce, Society, and 
Politics." He has been one of the most 
popular pulpit orators that the couutry has 
produced. 

Among the other clergymen who have at- 



tained a high reputation fir scholarship and 
literary ability, wc should name George 
Bush, a critical Hebrew scholar, Moses Stu- 
art, Thomas J. Conaiit, Horatio B. Ilackctt, 
all eminent Hebraists; Bennet Tyler, Na- 
thaniel W. Taylor, Lyman Beccher, Edward 
Beecher, Mark Hopkins, Leonard Woods, 
George P. Fisher, theological writers ; T. C. 
Upham, J. Torrey, W. G. T. Shedil, Leonard 
Bacon, Henry B. Siuith, Bishop C. P. 
McHvaine, W. B. Spraguc, J. W. and J. A. 
Alexander, G. W. Bethune, S. H. Tyng, Francis 
Wayland and Barnas Sears as religious 
and ecclesiastical wiiters ; and Nehemiah 
and Wm. Adams, Richard S. Storrs, Jr , 
Geo. B. Cheever, Joseph P. Thompson, R. 
D. Ilitchco k, H. W. Beecher, A. L. Stone, 
Bishops Potter, Burgess, Coxe, Doane, and 
Kip, Richard Fuller," William R. Williams, 
Will am Hague, Robert Turnbull, Abel 
Stevens, J. P. Durbin. W. P. Strickland, 
Daniel Curry, Stephen Oliu, and Jaines Floy, 
as eloquent preachers and writers. The two 
Roman Catholic Archbishops Kenrick, Arch- 
bishop Hughes, Archbishop Spalding, and 
Bishops Fitzpatrick and Kosecians, have all 
acquired distinction as preachers and authors, 
mostly on controversial topics. 

Francis Wayland was born in the city of 
New York in 179G, and graduated at Union 
College. He was first settled over a Baptist 
church in Boston, but ultimately succeeded 
to the presidency of Brown Universit)', in 
1827. His publications have been mimerous 
on moral and scientific subjects, and ho has 
conti'ibuted largely to the periodical press. 
The editions of some of his works have been 
very large : 12,000 were sold of his " Politi- 
cal Economy," and nearly 30,000 of his 
" Moral Science." 

William Ware was born in 1797, at Iling- 
ham, Mass., and graduated at Harvard in 
1816. He was soon after settled in a Uni- 
tarian church in New York. He commenced, 
in the Knickerbocker 3fa;/azine, in 1836, a 
scries of papers, which were subsequently 
published together, as "Zenobia; or, The 
Fall of Palmyra : an historical romance." 
Then followed " Probus ; or, Rome in the 
Third Century ;" "Julian ; or, Scenes in 
Judea," appeared in 1S41. The writings of 
Mr. Ware are graceful, pure, and brilliant m 
st^'le. 

Herman Hooker was born in Poultney, Vt., 
in 1 807. Graduating at Middlebury College, 
he took orders in the Episcopal church, but, 
having the pulpit soon, removed to Phila- 




GENTLEMEN AUTHORS. 




LADY AUTHORS. 



THEOLOGIANS STATESMEN NOVELISTS HISTORIANS. 



283 



phia, wliere he died in 1865. His books which 
were all religion-:, po-sessed great merit. 

Orestes A. Browusoii was born in Ver- 
mont in 1802. The early life of Mr. Brown- 
son was ob-scure. He seems, however, to 
have been very erralie, but published several 
works, until, in 1838, he began the Boston 
Quarlerly, and in 1840 published a meta- 
physical novel called " Charles Ellwood." 
He continued to write for many reviews, 
until, in 1844, he beg m Brownson's Qua ferly 
Reciew, after hiving- united with the Uuinan 
Catholic ciiurch. Since then he has achieved 
a li'gh reputation as a controversialist. 

John James Audubon, the great ornitholo- 
gist, was born in Louisiana in 1782. Ue 
was educated in Paris. On his return he 
immediately commenced the series of draw- 
ings, which, with the lapse of time, grew 
into " The Birds of America" — of which 
work Baron Cuvier remarked : " If ever it be 
completed it will have to be confessed that, in 
magnificence of execution, the old world is 
surpassed by the new." After encountering 
many vexations and disappointments, ho suc- 
ceeded in publishing, in 1830, his first vol- 
ume, containing one hundred plates, repre- 
senting ninety-nine species of birds ; every 
figure of the size and color of life. The 
kings of France and England headed the 
subscription list ; he was made a ineinl>er of 
the lioyal Societies of London, Edinburgh, 
and Taris, and the scientific world were en- 
thusiastic in his praise. The second volume 
was published in 1S34; in 1840 tlic fourth 
and last volume was completed. The whole 
comprises 435 plates, containing 1065 figures, 
from the bird of Washington to the hum- 
ming-bird, of the size of life, and a great va- 
riety of land and marine views, carefully 
drawn and colored from nature. He had 
spent half a century in completing this mar- 
vellous work, and well might he say : " I 
look up with gratitude to the Supreme 
Being, and feel that I am happy." 

After the completion of this work, he be- 
gan the "Quadrupeds of America," which 
was also a marvellous production. His draw- 
ings exhibit a perfection never before at- 
tempted, and his pen is scarcely inferior to 
his pencil. When Butfon had completed 
tlie ornithological portion of his history, he 
supposed that he had described all the birds in 
the world, and remarked that the list "would 
admit of no material augmentation !" Yet his 
list comprised but one-six'teenth of those now 
known to exist. Mr. Audubon died in 1851. 



Gulian C. Verplanck was born in 1 7 85, in 
New York — a true representative of the 
Knickerbocker race. He graduated at Co- 
lumbia College, and soon after obtained ad- 
mission to tlie bar. In 1818 he came before 
the public in a literary character, in an ad- 
dress before the New York Historical So- 
ciety. He became professor of the evi- 
dences of Christianity in the theological 
seminary of the Episcopal church, in 1820. 
Subsequently Mr. Verplanck, in connection 
with Mr. r>ryant and others, formed a liter- 
ary confederacy, contributing to the literary 
magazines and daily journals. At this time 
was published " The Talisman," mostly by 
Mr. Verplanck. He was a member of Con- 
gress 1825-18."3. In 1844-40. he" edited 
a fine edition of Shakspeare, which has a 
iiigh reputation. IMr. W^iplanck died in 1870. 

Henry R. Schoolcraft was born in 1793, 
near Albany, and was early distinguished for 
his literary and scientific acquirements. He 
contributed largely to the preservation of 
the history of tlie red races of the continent, 
and was a high authurity on all that concerns 
their customs. He died in 18G4. 

In the range of history, American writers 
have won the foremost po-ition among his- 
torians of the present century ; and Euro- 
pean critic-i admit the high reputation of 
American hislories. 

Jared Sjiarks (1 789-1 8C6) was born in 
Willington, Conn., graduated from Harvard 
University in 1815, was a tutor there and 
subsequently pastor of a L'nitarian Church 
in Baltimore, editor and pro])rietor of the 
North American Review, 1823 to 1830, 
and already distingui^-hed for his historical 
researches. He published a 1 fe of " John 
Ledyard, the American Traveler," " Diplo- 
matic Correspondence of the American Rev- 
olution" in 12 volumes, "Lifeof Gouverneur 
Morris," '• Life and Writings of Wasjiinglon" 
in twelve 8vo volumes, the '• Conii li te 'Works 
of Franklin " in ten volumes, two i-eries of 
Historical Biographies, one in ten, the other 
in fifte<-n volumes, and " Corres|'ond( nee of 
the American Revolution" in four volumes. 
He was very careful, painstaking, and accu- 
rate as a historian. He was Piesidcnt of 
Harvard University from 1849 to 1853. 

John Gorhani Palfrey, born in Bo-ton in 
179(5 a classmate of Sparks, graduating from 
Harvard University in 1815, w^is a Unita- 
rian minister in Boston from 1818 to 1830. 
professor of sacred literature in Harvard, 
from 1831 to 1839 ; editor North American 



284 



■WRITERS OF AMERICA. 



Jiei-f'cia 1835 to 1843; Secretary of State 
of Massachu.^etts 1844 to 1848; member of 
Coiifrress 1847 to 1849; lecturer at the 
LowiU Institute 1830 and 1842 ; and be- 
side numerous theological and reformatory 
w&rks ]iublished " Pi'ogress of the Slave 
Power," " History of iirattle St. Chuich," 
"Life of Col. AVi'lliam Palfrey," "Review 
of Lord Mahon's History of England," and 
a " History of New England to 1C88," in 
three volumes, a work of great research. 

AVilliam H. Pre CHtt was born in 1796, at 
Salem. He was grand ou of Gen. Prescott 
who command d at ISunker Hill. In 1814, 
he graduated at Harvard College, and entered 
upon the study of the law. At college, by 
an accident, one of his eyes was destroyed, 
and the sight of the other mucli injured. 
He po-scssed a handsome income, Sl-,l'liO 
per aiuium, and devoted himself to tiic 
study of the lan'.'uages and literature of 
Europe, and contri dited largely to the 
Nortii American Hcview. Ten years thus 
passed i:i a kind of preparation for historical 
studies; ten years more were occupied witli 
investigation, and then his " Ferdinand and 
Isabella" was published. The matei'ials for 
this h id been sent him by Alexander Everett, 
when minster to Spain. The work of accjuir- 
ing the contents of books and writing with 
out the use of eyes was a severe labor, b\it 
was overcome by ingenuity and patience. 
The work was everywhere hailed with enthu- 
siasm. ]Mr. Pi-oscott wa-i made a member of 
the Royal Academy of JMadrid, and its rich 
collections, wi h those of the archives of 
Seville, placed at his disposal, and every res- 
ervoir of .Spanish history laid open to liim. 
The " History of the Conquest of Mexico " 
followed, and was succeeded by the " Con- 
quest of Peru," and tlie " History of Philip 
the Second," which added to the fame of Mi'. 
Prescott. He died in 1S59. 

George Haiicroft was born in "Worcester in 
180;i, and graduated at Harvard in 1817. 
Ho commenced the study of divinity, but 
adopted literature as a ]irofession. In 1834, 
he pu'ilished tlie first volume of the " History 
of Colonization in the liiiite<l States. He 
was subsequently appointed collector of Bos- 
ton, and in 1814 secretary of the navy, 
which post he resigned lo represent this 
country at the Court of .St. James. During 
more than thirty years his great '• History 
of the United States" has been in progress, 
reaching its tenth volume in 18(57. He has 
been U. S. Minister at Berlin since 18G9. 



William C. Bryant was born in ISIassa- 
chusetts in 1794. He contributed lines to 
the county Gazet'e when ten years old, and 
four years later ]iublislied two poems ; at 19 
he wrote hi> " I hanatopsis. He was for 
two years in Williams College,and afterwards 
studied law. In 1825 he edited the New 
York Review, and in 1826 became editor of 
the Evening Post, with which he is still con- 
nected. He has written much both in poetry 
and prose. His prose is remarkable for its 
purity and elegance. 

John Lothrop iMotley, who at once took 
rank with Prescott and P>ancroft as a histo- 
rian, was born in Dorchester, Mass., in 1814, 
educated at Harvard University, and subse- 
quently at Gottingen and Berlin, studied 
l.iw, and was admitted to the bar in 1836, 
but did not practice. He wrote two histori- 
cal novels, publi>hed in 1839 and 1849. was 
secretary of legation to Russia in 1840, be- 
came interested in the history of Holland in 
1845, and after collecting material for a his- 
tory here, went to Europe in 1851, and spent 
live years at Berlin, Dresden, a'ld the Hague 
in the composition of his "Rise of the Dutch 
Republic," ]iubli~hcil in 185(). This was fol- 
lowed, in l^Gl), l)v three volumes of a history 
of "The United Netherlands," and in 1866, 
he published two more volumes of this his-' 
tory ; minister to Austria in 1 '■ 6 1 , recalled 
1867 ; minister to England 1869, 1870. 

Richard Ilildreth (1807-1805) was an 
.able politieal writer, novelist and historian. 
He will be longest remembered for his val- 
uable " Histoj-y of the United States," in 
six volumes. He was also author of a work 
on Japan. He was, at the time of liis death, 
U. S. Consul at Trieste. 

Benson J. Lossing ( born in Beckman, N. 
Y., in 1813) has attained a high reputation 
as a historian and historical biographer. His 
" Pictorial Field Book of tlie Revolution," 
his works on Washington and Mount Ver- 
non, Life of '• Philip S<'huvler," "Histories 
of the Uniieil States" " War of 1 8 1 2," an.l 
" Pictorial History of the Rebellion," are all 
works of interest and value, and their illus- 
trations arc from his own skillful pencil. 

flames T. Headley. Jacob and John S. C. 
Abbott, John Foster Kirk, Francis Parkman, 
J. Romeyn l^roadhead, E. B. O'Callaglian, 
Parke Godwin, Charles Gayarre, Francis L. 
Hawks, and Amos Dean have all published 
historical works of some reputation. 

Many of the female writers of America 
have achieved distinction. JMrs. I'2mma Wil- 



THEOLOGIANS STATESMEN' XOVELISTS HISTORIANS. 



285 



lard wrote extensively on history and educa- 
tional topics, and her sister, Mrs. Almira H. 
Phelps, has not only contributed several 
text-books to physical science, but has a fair 
reputation, as a novelist. Hannah Adams, 
the pioneer of female writers in Americi, 
born 17Ji5, wrote a " History of New Eng- 
land," " Vienna," &c. Mrs. Eliza Leslie 
(1787-18.57) wrote several excellent novels, 
and some works of great value, in the do- 
main of the cu!ina:y at. Mrs. Lydia II 
Sigoiu-ney (1791-1805) was alike remark 
hie for licr poetical and her prose works ; 
nitmy of the latter were prepared for the 
young. Miss Catharine M. Sedgwick (1789- 
i8()7) was the author of " Tlie Linwoods," 
'• Redwood," " Hope Leslie," &c., novels of 
great merit. Mrs. Harriet Heecher Stowe 
(born in 1812) has been the most successful 
of novelists. Her " Uncle Tom's Cabin " 
sold to the extent of about 3.ji»,()0() copies 
in the United States, and over 1, 500,00! i 
in Great Britain, and her subsequent nov- 
els, " Dred," " The Minister's Wooing," 
'•Agnes of Sorrento," " The Pearl of Orr's 
Island," "Old Town Folks," "Old Town 
Stories," " Pink an 1 White Tyrany," 
?' Harry Henderson's History," etc., etc., 
have had a large sale. She has also written 
descriptive, biographical, and other works, 
and occasional poems of great merit. Her 
sifter, Miss Catharine E. Becher, has written 
numerous works, educational .and controver- 
sial. Miss Susan Warner has acliieved a 
high reputation ('under her nom de plume 
of Elizabeth Wetherell) by her novels, 
"The Wide, Wide World," " Qiieechy," 
" The Hills of the Shatemuc," and " Say 
and Seal," etc. Mrs. S. P. W. Parton 
(Fanny Fern) h.as been very successful, not 
only as a novelist, in her " Ruth Hall," but 
as a light essayist, in .her " Fern Leaves," 
&c. Miss M. •). ^Mackintosh, the author of 
" Charms and Counter-Cliarms," and numer- 
ous other novels, hai a high reputation. 
Mrs. E. D. E. N. South worth "(born in 181S) 
commenced her career as an author in 1843, 
and since that time has published over one 
hundred novels, all of them of considerable 
merit. Mrs. Ann S. Stephens (born in 1813) 
has attiiined distinction as a novelist, as a 
writer of historical and practical works, and 
as editor of a ladies' magazine. Mrs. E. 
Oakes Smith has written largely and well 
on the most diverse subjects — metaphysic-,, 
literature, houseliold matters, criticism, the 
drama, poetry, and fiction. 



Mrs. Lydia Maria Ch'.ld (born 1802) has 
been a very popular writer, Her " Ilobo- 
mok " and " The Rebeh " were her earlier 
efforts, and brouglit her reputation which 
was increased by her subsequent works. 
Mrs. Caroline M. Kirkland (1801-1864) 
was a graceful and elegant wi'iter. Her 
"New Home — Who'll Foil iw ?" first intro- 
duced her to the public, and her subs-quent 
works enlianced her reputation. Mrs Alice 
B. (Neal) Haven (1828-18G3) edited the 
Saturda;/ Gazette after the deadi of her hus- 
band, (Juseph C. Neal) and subsequently 
published a volume of poems and a number 
of admirable juvenile books. 

Mrs. Mary .1. Holmes, ilrs. M. Virginia 
Terhune (Marion Ilarland), 5Irs. Anna 0. 
(Mowatt) Ritchie, Mi-s A. J. Evans, Mis-e» 
Alice and Plirebc C.ary, Mrs. E. F. EUet, 
Mrs. E. C. Embury, Miss Maria Cummins, 
Miss Caroline Chesebro, Mrs. H. Prescott 
Spofford, Blrs. E. Robinson (Talvi), Mrs. 
Catharine A. Warfield, Mrs. Harriet Stuart 
Phelp-, and her daughter. Miss E. Stinxrt 
Phelps, Mrs. Eliz.abeth Stoddard, IMrs. IMary 
A. Deni^on, Mrs. M. A. S.adlier. Mrs. Mar- 
garet C. Lawrence, Mrs. Madeline Leslie, 
Miss Caroline Kelly, Mrs. M. E. Hewitt, 
Mi-s Virginia F. Town-end, Mrs. L. C. 
Tuthill, Mrs. Emily C. Ju.Uon (Fanny For- 
rester, 18 i 7-185 1), Mrs. Helen C. Knight, 
Mrs. (I. Prentiss, IMrs. A. D. T. 'Whitney, 
iMi-s Helen C. Weeks, Jlrs. J. 1). Chaplin, 
Mrs. Mary D. Chellis, have all written poi)U- 
lar works of fiction, or light literature, which 
have had a very large sale. 

Mrs. S. Margaret Fuller, afterwards Coun- 
tess D'Ossoli, one of the most vigorou; and 
thoughtful writers of any age, (1810-1850) 
was for some years in charge of the literary 
depiLrtment of the N. Y. Tribune, and pub- 
lished beside some trans'ation* and many 
essays, and a work entitled " Woman in tlie 
Nineteenth Century." 

Several of the ladies named above have 
distinguished themselves as poots, particu- 
larly Mrs. Sigourney, whose religious and 
elegiac poems have given her a high repu- 
tation ; Mrs. Stowe, Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, 
Mrs. Alice B. Haven, Mrs. Emily C. Judson, 
Miss Alice Cary, and her sister, Miss Phoebe 
Cary. But tiiere are other American female 
writers, whose poetry alone has won them 
high distinction. Among t'.iese we may 
name Mrs. Maria Brooks (Slaria del Occi- 
dent, 1795-1815), whose principal poem, 
" Zophiel," attracted attention in Europe 



286 



PRITING-PRESS. 



from its remarkable curative power ; the 
Davidson sisters, remarkable instances of 
precocious talent ; Mrs. Frances Sargent Os- 
good ( l'^12-18.J0), remarkable for her play- 
f ilness of fancy and felicity of expression ; 
Jliss Hannah F. Gould, (I TSO-lHOo) a poet 
of rare ability and vigor ; Mrs. Julia Waid 
Howe, pei'haps the most gifted of our living 
female po'ts ; Mrs. Frances Anne Kemble 
( 18 11-1 .S7 1 ) ; Mrs. Caroline Gilman ; Mrs. 
Sarah J. Lippiucott, (Grace Greenwood), 
whose ''Aiiadue a Na.xas " attracted great 



attention from its intensity of passion ; Mrs. 
Amelia B. Welby, remarkable for the exquis- 
ite rhythm of her poetry ; Mrs. Sarah Helen 
Whitman, airs. Anne C. (Lynch) Botta,Mps. 
Estelle Anna Lewis, Mrs. >arali d. Hide, 
Miss Caroline May, jNIrs. Maria Lowell, Mrs! 
MiiT-y H. C. IJootli, Miss Edna Dean Proctor, 
Blrs. Rosa V. Jolinson, Miss Kuse Terry, Mrs. 
M. S. B. Dana, and Miss Anna li. inker 
( Kdilh May*. Tliere are others perhaps who 
deserve a place in this record, but these have 
all gained a prominent position as poets. 



PllINTING-PPiESS. 



CHAPTER L 

PRINTING PRESS— TIANDPOWER— 

LIGHTNING. 

If a middle-aged man now visits the press- 
room of a " crack " daily, and observes a 
huge machine, some twenty feet high, driven 
by a steam engine, delivering seven largo 
newspapers, nicely printed, at every tick of a 
clock, and watches the piles of paper grow- 
ing at tlie rate of 420 per minute, or at 
that of '2), 200 per liour, weighing over one 
ton, and reflects that the utmost power of 
the best machines of his youth would rcipiire 
an active man and a boy two long liours 
to do what this wliizzing monster does in 
a minute, he will form some idea of the pro- 
gress made in paper printing, and also of 
what is required to meet a daily demand. 
In the days of Franklin, the press-work of a 
paper was a very laborious affair. The ma- 
chines of that day were very imperfect, and, 
if reference is had to the illustration on an- 
other page, contrasting the actual maciiine 
which Franklin used, and which is still pre- 
served in the patent oflice at Washington, 
with the fast press now in use, a good idea 
will be formed of tiie progress in press- 
building. In that press, it will be observed, 
the bed is a platform about three feet high, 
between two upriglits. In the cross-piece at 
the top is a female screw in which works 
the screw attached to the wooden platen. 
This screw being turned by the pressman, 
causes the platen to ascend and descend. 



There is, in front, a table, which slides over 
the platform at the will of the operator, who, 
to effect this, turns a crank. On this table 
was laid the type. Over the type was a 
frame, which encircled the type, or form, and 
crossed it in those places where the white 
margin appears in a printed paper. On this 
frame the paper of proper size was laid, after 
being " wet down ;" another fold of the 
frame confined the paper ; the whole was 
then slid on to the platform. The screw 
being turned, caused the platen to descend, 
and the i'mpression was made. The screw 
was then raised, the form slid back, the frame 
raised, and the paper lifted and examined by 
the pressman to see if his impression was 
"good." If it satisfied him, lie proceeded 
to ink his types for a new impression. The 
ink employed in printing is very different 
from that employed for writing, and much 
skill is required in the manufacture. It 
must be soft, adhesive, and easily trans- 
ferred ; it must dry quickly, and be durable, 
and not liable to spread. The usual mate- 
rials are linseed oil, rosin, and coloring mat- 
ters, lamp-black being used for black inL 
The peculiar mode of the best makers is 
somewhat of a secret. The old mode of ap- 
plying it was by two ink balls, about the 
size of a man's hat, made of soft leather, and 
stuffed with cotton, the leather being nailed 
round a wooden handle. The pressman, 
taking one in each hand, daubed them with 
ink, and worked them together until he had 
spread the ink. He then applied them to 




MATLi: 01' HKN.JA.MIN Kl: ^\\l.l\ iX I'KIMISi; IKH > K SCilAlli:. NKW YORK. 



PRINTING-PRESS HAND POWER LIGHTNING. 



287 



the types as evenly as possible; then, laying 
them aside, ho proceeded, as before, to lay 
his paper evenly upon the frames, slide it 
up, work the screw, etc. By this process, 
an active man could work fifty sheets in an 
hour ; by ten liours steady industry, he 
could get off an edition of 500 copies for 
the carriers in the morning;. There was lit- 
tle room for much expansion under such a 
state of printing. The first great advance in 
the direction of speed, was when the lever 
was substituted for the screw in making the 
impression. This was introduced by Mr. John 
Clymer, and called the Columbian, or Clymer 
press, in which there was no screw, but the 
head itself was a large and powerful lever, 
acted on by proportionate levers, thus bring- 
ing to perfection, f >r presses of a l;n'ge size, 
certain principles of leverage which had pre- 
viously been patented in England, and used 
in presses of a small size, such as foolscap. 
The platen was, in fact, a falo-um for the 
head, or great lever. Thus the fulcrum and 
lever superseded the inclined plane, or screw. 
Mr. Clymer went to England in 1S17, and, 
at that tim.e, the famous " Cobbett's llegis- 
ter" was printed on an " American press," a 
circumstance that was regarded as a great 
joke at the time. By this invention, two 
levers, one aflixed at the cross-piece above, 
and one to the platen, were brought together 
by a joint, like the bent knee of a man's 
leg. At tliis joint was applied a lever, by 
which the pressman, with one pull, brought 
the joint into a perpendicular line, bj- so do- 
ing giving an instantaneous and powerful 
impression. The platen being suspended 
by spiral springs, instantly rose when the 
lever was released. The saving in time was 
immense, one pull of the workman being 
sufficient for all the old screwing and un- 
screwing. Improvements in the Clymer 
press were made by I'eter Smith and Sam- 
uel Ilust, and these improvements are com- 
bined in Iloe's Washington press, of wliich 
a cut will be found on another page. Inven- 
tions of a similar character were made by 
Mr. John Wells, of Connecticut. The prin- 
ciple of the lever has been applied in various 
ways, and contains the chief feature in press 
power. The form of lever now generally 
used, will be seen in the engraving of Hoe 
and Smith's printing press, which is the fa- 
vorite for all work where power presses are 
not recpiired. Next to the introduction of 
the lever, was the substitution of the inking 
machine for the old ink balls. This was 



constructed of a cylinder which revolved, by 
hand, against an ink trough, and, by so do- 
ing, received evenly over its surface the ink. 
The smaller rollers Avere constructed on a 
light frame, to which a handle was attached. 
These, laid upon the ink roller, received from 
it the ink, and then being pushed forward 
over the type, imparted it to them with one 
movement of the hand. This, worked by a 
boy, is seen in the engraving. The pressman 
was now relieved of the inking, and, work- 
ing with a lever, he could print, with active 
industry, 200 sheets in an hour. The next 
movement was to make this inking machine 
self-acting, by attaching it to the press in 
sucli a manner that lifting the paper frame 
would cau-e it to act. 

The liuggles Job press, introduced in 1S,T9, 
and llie Combinatiou press patented in 1.S41, 
both enio3ed a large measure of poi)ularity, 
but have been of late superceded by other 
styles, especially those manufactured by 
R. Hoe & Co., who have been in>trumental 
in making most of the early improvements 
of late years upon the printing press. 

The next important improvement in the 
machines, was the introduction of the cylin- 
der, or Napier press. In this machine, of 
which an engraving is presented in another 
column, the form of typo is locked upon a 
strong iron table, which moves forward and 
backward, passing in its course under a cyl- 
inder, which, made of iron, is covered with 
a soft blanket, and provided with a set of 
fingers to seize the sheet as it is presented. 
Against this is inclined the feeding bench, on 
which is laid the paper. On the bench is a 
small brass peg", or pointer, against which 
the feeder brings the paper accurately, in or- 
der that the sheets may " register" — that is, 
each receive the type at the same distance 
from the margin. When the cylinder re- 
volves, it raises with its fingers the edge 
of the paper, draws it round itself, and 
presses it against the type, which, at the 
same instant, passes under it. The paper 
then released by the cylinder, is carried by 
ribbons to the rear, while the tvpe vibrates 
back, to return as soon as the cylinder has 
again drawn forward a sheet of paper. At 
first, a boy was required to fly the papers, or 
catch them as thev were thrown back from 
the cylinder, and pile them up. This, by the 
self-acting liyer, as seen in tiie engraving, is 
now dispensed with. This machine raised 
the number' that might be printed to be- 
tween 2,000 and 3,UU0 per li.mr. The bed 



288 



PRINTING-PRESS. 



is made of a size to take a paper fiom 25x33 
inches, to one 40x60 inches, Very soon an 
improvement suggested itself to the ingenious 
and thoughtful inventor. As at first con- 
structed, the type, in moving forward and 
backward, made only one impression. It 
was easy to introduce anotlicr cylinder, in 
order to take an impression from the type 
on its leturn. This was the double cylinder, 
which delivers a paper at each end. The 
cost of these i-^, for the large size, $6,850 ; 
increased capacity, 3,500 to 6,400 impressions 
per hour. In this operation, the vibration 
of the type bed was the great difficulty. 
The type and bed will weigh over 1,000 lbs. 
This mass, moving backward and forward 
with groat momentum, produced a great 
concussion, although it was met by strong 
springs which stopped its progress and aided 
its return. Many improvements were made 
in these springs. The noise and annoyance 
occasioned by the concussion of the bed 
against the springs, which are placed at each 
end of the machine to overcome the momen- 
tum of the bed, was removed by means of 
adjustable India-rubber buft'ers placed at the 
points of contact, which in no way interfere 
with the lively and certain action of the spi- 
ral springs. The same object is also efl'ectcd 
by air springs, by which the head of the 
bed, plunging into a receiver, condenses the 
air, causing it to act as a spring. 

It was ob^'ious, however, that the weight 
and concussion of this bed were a bar to 
further progress in this direction, and it was 
felt that greater speed could be attained only 
by causing the type itself to revolve. This 
was no new idea. It had been patented in 
England in 1790, but the inventor could 
not succeed in holding the types, since the 
rapid revolution of such a weiglit gives a 
powerful centrifugal motion. What they 
could not do in England, Richard M. Iloe 
did in New York, in 1847, after many at- 
tempts had been made to accomplish the de- 
sired result. In this Tuachine, as will be 
seen in the illustration, the form of type is 
placed on the surface of a horizontal revolv- 
ing cylinder of about four and a half feet in 
diameter. The form occupies a segment of 
only about one-fourth of the surface of the 
cylinder, and the remainder is used as an 
ink-distributing surface. Around this main 
cylinder, and parallel with it, arc placed 
smaller impression cylinders, varying in num- 
ber from four to ten, according to the size 
of the machine. The engraving represents 



three. The large cylinder being put in mo- 
tion, the form of types is caiTied successively 
to all the impression cylinders, at each of 
which a sheet is introduced, and receives the 
impression of the types as the form passes. 
Thus, as many sheets are printed at each rev- 
olutii^n of the main cylinder, as there are 
impression cylinders around it. One person 
is required at each impression cylinder to 
supply the sheets of paper, which are taken 
at the proper moment by fingers or grippers, 
and, after being printed, are conveyed out by 
tapes and laid in heaps by means of self-act- 
ing flyers, thereby dispensing with the 
hands required in ordinary machines to re- 
ceive and pile the sheets. The grippers 
hold the sheet securely, so that the thinnest 
newspaper may be printed without waste. 

The ink is contained in a fountain placed 
beneath the main cylinder, and is conveyed 
by means of distributing rollers to the dis- 
tributing surface on the main cylinder. This 
surface being lower, or less in diameter than 
the form of types, passes by the impression 
cylinder without touching. For each im- 
pression, there are two inking rollers, which 
receive their supply of ink from the distrib- 
uting surface of the main cylinder, which 
rise and ink the form as it passes under 
them, after which, they again fall to the dis- 
tributing surface. 

Each page of the paper is locked up on a 
detached segment of the large cylinder which 
constitutes its bed and chase. The column 
rules run parallel with the shaft of the cylin- 
der, and arc, consequent!}-, straight, while 
the head, advertising, and dash rules, 
are in the form of segments of a circle. 
The column rules are in the form of a 
wedge, with the thin part directed toward 
the axis of the cylinder, so as to bind the 
types securely. These wedge-shaped column 
rules are held down to the bed by tongues 
projecting at intervals along their length, 
which slide in rebated grooves cut crosswise 
in the face of the bed. The spaces in the 
grooves between the column rules are accu- 
rately fitted with sliding blocks of metal 
even with the sur&ce of the bed, the ends 
of which blocks are cut away underneath to 
receive a projection on the siilcs of the 
tongues of the colunm rules. The form of 
type is locked up in the bod b}' moans of 
screws at the foot and sides, by which the 
type is held as securely as in the ordinary 
manner upon a flat bed— if not even more 
so. The speed of these machines is limited 



PRINTING-PRESS HAND POWER LIGHTNING. 



297 



only by tlie ability of the feeders to supply 
the sheets. The four-cylinder machine is 
run at a speed of over 10,000 per hour; the 
six-cylinder machine, 15,000 an hour; the 
eight-cylinder machine, 20,000 ; and the ten- 
cylinder m.achine, 25,000. This system com- 
bines the greatest speed in printing, durabil- 
ity of the machinery, and economy of labor. 
As we have said, this great machine deliv- 
ers seven sheets per second, or 420 per min- 
ute. It does in one minute what Franklin 
required ten hours to do, and the papers 
contain ten times as much matter, and are 
eight times as large. Thus, to print as much 
reading would have required 100 hours in 
the last century, against one minute now. 
In other words, 6,000 men with 6,000 press- 
es, would have done very badly what this 
machine does very well. 

The next attempted improvement in the 
speed of machines has been, to do for the re- 
volving cylinder what was done before with 
the Napier press. In the case of the latter, 
another cylinder was introduced to take the 
type on its return vibration, thus getting two 
impressions from one movement. In the 
case of the revolving type, something simi- 
lar has been attempted. It has been stated 
that the form of type occupies but a seg- 
ment of the cylinder. It was conceived 
that by placing the other form on the va- 
cant space of the cylinder, tliat both would 
be printed with one revolution, thus doub- 
ling the amount of work done by the same 
number of revolutions. The mechanical 
part the Messrs. lloe succeeded in perfecting, 
but the ditticulty encountered was in the pa- 
per. It will be conceived that when the pa- 
per is printed with such inconceivable rapid- 
ity, that the ink has no time to " set," and 
to impress it on the other side in almost the 
same instant of time is more tlu n tlio nature 
of the operation will permit, and the type 
" takes off," so to speak, or \vill not pro- 
duce a perfect impression. Some other per- 
sons made the same attempt, with similar re- 
sults. I'rogress in that direction has, there- 
fore, been suspended, b..t the ellbrts of gen- 
ins are being directed anew, and the expe- 
rience of the past has warned us not to be 
surprised at wliat may yet be done. There 
have been attempts made to simplify the 
process by fitting stereotype plates to cylin- 
ders, and with some success ; but under the 
old plaster process too long a time was re- 
quired for drying and tinishing to permit their 
use by the daily press. The introduction of 



the paper process, (making the dies or mat- 
rices in which liie stereotype plates arc cast, 
of paper pulp) has effected a complete revo- 
lution, and all the dailies of large circulation 
stereotype their forms. 

The weeklies of large circulation, are usu- 
ally printed on IIoe"s large single cylinder 
pres';. In these cases, where time is not so 
much an object, the forms are multiplied by 
the electrotypes and worked on a large num- 
ber of presses. In some cases, the circula- 
tion running up to 400,000 weekly, a press 
running 1.5uO per hour, or 20,000 in a day, 
will rc(juire ten presses four dajs to perfect 
the edition on both sides, and for this pur- 
pose, ten separate forms will be required. 
These machines will take a form 19x23^ 
inches, and up to 40x57 inches. The cost 
of the ibrmer is : 1,800, and of the latter 
size, 5f3,'.Xl0. 

The jiress most u^ed for book work differs 
in principle from either the Napier or the 
revolving type. It was the invention of 
Isaac Adams, of Massachusetts, and it bears 
his name. The type in the press has no 
movement except slightly up and down. It 
receives the ink from a self-acting machine, 
and the paper is fed to it from an inclined 
plane, when, the impression being made, it 
is lifted off by the fly and deposited in the 
rear. It is one of the most perfect of presses. 
The prices of these vary from $1,050 to $6,- 
250 according to size. The engraving on 
another page will give a good idea of this 
machine, of which the patent is secured by 
the Messrs. Hoe. 

For the best qualities of book, wood-cut, 
and color printing, where the wood cuts are 
printed in the same page with letter-press, 
the IMessrs. Iloe (to whom all the most im- 
portant of the late improvements in printing 
presses are due) have produced a " stop-cyl- 
inder wood-cut press," which by its numer- 
ous rollers and its perfect adjustment, secures 
the finest possible impressions of the best 
wood engravings. It has from two to ten 
form rollers, and from three to twelve dis- 
'.ributors, according to size, and by an at- 
taehm nt the rollers may be made to pass 
over the form two or four times between 
each impression. There is no jarring of the 
bed, and by an ingenious device a perfect 
register is obtained. A " T3'pe Revolving 
Book Perfi.'cting Pre?s " of their construc- 
tion is also an admirable machine for the 
finest book work, but is very expensive. 
Among other book and newspaper presses of 



298 



TYPES. 



considerable merit, introduced within the 
past ten year^, are the Cottrell and Babcock, 
the A. B. Taylor, the A. Campbell, and the 
C. Potter, Jr. & Co. presses. Messrs. Van- 
deburgh & Wells, dealers in printing presses 



and printers' materials, express a preference 
lor the first two, but all have their good qual- 
ities. There are also several new jobbing 
presses, including two of Hoe's, Gordon's, 
the Universal, and the Globe. 



TYPES. 



CHAPTER T. 

TYPE FOUNDING— STKRKOTYPING — ELEC- 
TROTYPING. 

There has been little change in the gene- 
ral form of metal types used in printing, but 
much improvement in the quality of the 
metal used, in the style of the letters, and in 
the process of casting. There are many 
sizes of type used, but the ten following arc 
those most used in books and newspapers. 
They arc mcntiiine<l in the order of the sizes, 
the smallest being first : — Diamond ; Pearl ; 
Agate; Nonpareil; Minion; Brevier; Bour- 
geois; Long I'rimer; Small Pica; Pica. 
The size of the type employed in this page 
is Long Primer. 

There arc some combinations of these 
sizes ; but these arc the leading ones mo^t 
in use. These have not vai'ied iimch for a 
long period of time, although the compe- 
tition among the type founders has led to 
the introduction of many styles. 

In 1812, on the publication of "The Co- 
lumbiad," by Joel Barlow, a size of type, 
known as Columbian, «as cut for the work, 
which was designed to be very perfect. It 
wan embellished by Robert Fulton ; and it 
was the first ever printed upon Clymer's 
newly invented press, which press took the 
nam 3 of the Columbian in consequence. 

The casting of the tvpo was, until within 
fifteen years, done by liand for each separate 
letter. The matrix of the type is of cop- 
per, 1} inches long, -^ of an inch deep, and 
of the breadth of the type to bo cast. The 
form of tlie letter is made in the end of the 
copper matrix by a steel die. The copper 
matrix is then inclosed in a wooden box, 
which has a hopper to admit the melted 
metal. There is a spring attached, by which 
the matrix may be opened to release the let- 
ter when cast. The castor, holding this in 
his left hand, takes from the furnace, with a 
very small iron ladle or spoon, about as 



much of the metal as will form one letter. 
This he pours in, and at the same time gives 
the matrix a smart upward jerk, which set- 
tles the metal into the finest cuts of the let- 
ter. He then presses the spring, hooks out 
the letter, closes the matrix, and proceeds as 
before. A skilful man will in this way cast 
500 types in an hour. In 1811, Mr. David 
Bruce received a patent for an improvement 
in the mould, by which 25 per cent, more 
work was done. This system has changed 
since the introduction of machinery. 

About 15 years since, Mr. Geo. Bruce, Jr., 
of New York, invented a very beautiful ma- 
chine for casting type, and it is the best in 
the woi'ld. The patent has been renewed at 
the last session of Congress for seven years, 
and the right, title, and interest, have been 
purchased by Messrs. J. Conner & Sons. By 
this machine a man can cast three times as 
much in a day as by the old plan. The 
wages are less than half, per thousand, what 
they were before, but the caster, neverthe- 
less, earns more. In these machines the 
type metal — which is a mixture of lead, tin, 
and antimony — is contained in a state of 
fusion in a small iron reservoir, about 5 
inches square, and into which it is forced 
with great power. This is tapped by a 
nipple, which holds as much melted metal 
as will cast a type. The mould is of steel, in 
a small machine which is worked by a crank. 
It is simply for the body of the type, and is 
so placed that the lower end, by a move- 
ment of the machine, will fit exactly over the 
orifice of the nipple. Against the other end 
is apjilied a copper matrix of the letter, and 
firmly held by a spring. The operator then 
causes the metal to jet into the mould. Then, 
as soon as it is " set," he releases it, opens 
the mould, and allows the type to drop into 
a box. In this process, the matrix of the 
letter is separated from the body of the 
type. It is formed on a steel die, and im- 
pressed into the copper previously prepared, 




FRANKLIN I'Kt&h 




PATENT WASHINQTON PRINTINQ PRESS- 




PATENT HAN-D-PEESS STEAM INKING MAOHOrE. 




niPEOTED INKINO APPARATUS FOR THE HAND-PRESS 




S 

3. 



■^^illlRBlJii?' 




PATENT RAILROAD TICKET MACHINE. 



In this machine the fonns tire placed on a cyUnder wliidi enables it to run with a continuous rotary 
movement. The tickets are worked from a roll of paper, and are printed, numbered, cut, and deposited 
in a receptacle in numerical order iu a single operation. The numbering apparatus prints the number in 
a different color from the body of the ticket, and can be set at or any required number with great 
facility. The machine will print from 10,000 to 12,000 tickets per hour, and occupies a space of about 
two feet square. 



TVPE-FOUNDING STEREOTVPING ELECTKOTYPING. 



299 



with great force. The adjustment of tliis 
matrix to the mould is a work of great care 
and nicety. After the type is cast, by 
whatever process — whether by machinery or 
the ancient spoon method — it has to under- 
go a smoothing operation. This is performed 
by young people, principally girls ; three 
or four sitting around tables surmounted 
with properly prepared stone slabs, and 
by the fingers rubbing the roughness oft" 
each individual type. At this work tliey 
earn from $5 to $7 per week. The type 
goes tlien into the hands of the dresser. He 
cuts out what is called the jet end, by which 
process all the types are made of the exact 
height. On tlic nicety of this operation de- 
pends the ability to use the type. It may 
be liere remarked that American type conies 
nearly always perfect into the hands of the 
dresser, while in England nearly one-fourth 
is rejected as imperfect. 

The types liavc upon one side a " nick." 
As the types are perfected, a boy sets them 
on a "galley," with all the nicks out. They 
are then assorted into small "fonts," and 
are then ready for the printer. The propor- 
tions in which the different letters are cast 
to a font of type, and in which they occur 
in print, arc as follows : Letter e, 1 500 ; 
t, 900 ; a, 850 ; n, o, s, i, 800 ; h, 640 ; r, 620 ; 
d, 440; 1, 400; u, 340; c, m, 300; f, 250; 
w, y, 200; g, p, 170 ; b, 160 ; v, 120 ; k, 80 ; 
q, 60 ; j, X, 40 ; z, 20. Besides these, are 
the combined letters : fi, 50 ; ff, 40 ; fl, 20 ; 
ffi, 15; fH, 10; SB, 10; oe, 5. The propor- 
tion for capitals and small capitals differs 
from the small letters. In tliosc, I takes the 
first place, then T, then A and E, etc. The 
" cases" in which the types arc put for use, are 
arranged in the manner seen in the engraving 
on another page. The little square boxes 
in which the typo is laid are not arranged in 
the regular order of the alphabet, but in the 
order which experience has shown is tlie 
most convenient for the compositor. Those 
letters which occur the oftenest — as e, for 
instance- — occupy the largest scjuarcs nearest 
his hand, and the others in the order of their 
relative importance ; the capitals, small 
capitals, and marks, each in its proper place, 
in the upper case. The workman does not 
look at the type. He reads his copy only, 
and that frequently tasks his ingenuity to 
make out. lie knows the tvpes from the 
boxes they occupy, and the " nick" enables 
him to place them right side up by sense of 
feeling only. He is paid by the thousand 
18* 



ems when working by the piece. An em is 
about the space of a letter M, and 2,200 
ems go to one of the pages of this book. A 
good workman will set 5,000 to 0,000 ems 
in a day. Sometimes they arc paid by the 
week, §12 per week, which is about the 
amount that an expert workman will earn 
by the thousand. The type ho places in a 
small iron frame, held in his left liand, and 
called a " stick," which is adjusted to the 
breadth of the column or page. When this 
is full, it is deposited on a "galley," in a 
long column. From this galley a pi-oof im- 
prcsbicm is taken to be read by the author 
and proof-reader. The inaccuracies are' 
marked on this, and when corrected in the 
type, the foreman " makes up his fonn." If 
for a daily paper, this is done by screwing 
the columns into the " turtle," w liich is fas- 
tened upon the revolving cylinder of the 
press. When the type has been printed 
from or worked off', it is immediately washed 
in a strong alkali, to clear it from the ink. 
If this is not done thoroughlv, it will not 
print clear. Formerly this washing was 
done with urine, but of late an alkali is 
substituted. The clean typo has now to be 
" distributed," or put back into the cases. 
For this purpose the compositor takes the 
" matter" in his left hand, reads a line, and 
drops each letter into its appropriate place. 
This occupies a good deal of time. 

Most of this type setting and distributing 
is still (lone by hand up to the present time, 
although the greatest efforts have been 
made to introduce machinery. A number of 
type-setting machines have been invented, 
and many of them work well in the setting of 
the type — the operator working upon keys, 
like those of a piano, with the copy before 
him. The arrangement is such that, by 
touching the proper kc}-, the appropriate 
letter falls into lino, and the work goes on 
rapidly and well, even to the punctuation. 
The difficulty not yet overcome, and which 
is an obstacle to its usefulness, is that no 
means of "justifying" have been discov- 
ered — that is, of breaking the linos into 
the suitable length, and " spacing" them out 
so that each line shall have the exact length 
of all the rest. This is done by the hand 
compositor, with great nicety, in his iron 
stick, as his work progresses. As this must 
still be done by hand, after the machine has 
set up the type, no great advantage is de- 
rived from its action. In type distributing 
more success has been obtained. The ma- 



300 



chine is so constructed that it will distribute 
12,000 cms per hour with unerring accuracy, 
and one man may tend three macliincs ; 
hence he will distribute, by its aid, 30,000 
ems per hour, while a p;ood workman by 
hand will only distribute 3,000 ems. This 
seems very desirable, but a new difficulty 
presents itself. The machine cannot read, 
so as to distinjTuish one letter from another, 
and it is guided in its selection by the 
"nicks." It follows, that no two of the 
twenty-four letters of the alphabet should 
have the same " nicks ;" consequently, a 
special kind of type must be cast for the 
macliine. They are then put into it in 
a mass, and present themselves alternately 
until the proper " nick" i^oes through. The 
advantages of the machine do not overcome 
its disadvantages. 

In book work the type is not hurried from 
the compositor to the pressman, as in the 
case of the daily papers. There is more time, 
and the type itself is, therefore, not usually 
printed from, but it is stereotyped. This 
was introduced in America about the j'ear 
1817, by Mr. G. Bruce, the father of the in- 
ventor of the type-casting machine. 

In this process, the type being locked 
up in the form, which usually contains i) to 6 
paces, and carefully revised and corrected, is 
sent to the stereotyper. 

Stcrc'ityping is the mode of casting per- 
fect fac-siniiles, in metal, of the face of 
movable types. The plan is simple. After 
arranging the typo in pages, and getting it 
perfectly smooth and clean, it is placed in a 
frame, the surface being thoroughl)' oiled, 
to prevent the mould from adhering, when 
liquid gypsum, or plaster-of-Paris, is poured 
over the page. The mould, thus taken, if 
found peifect, is dressed with a sharp in- 
strument, and is then ready to receive the 
metal. It is then put into an iron cast- 
ing-box, and the \\hiilc immersed in liipiid 
tvpe metal. Twenty to thirty minutes usu- 
ally suffice for casting. The box is then 
swung out of the molten mass into a cool 
ing-trough, in which the under side is ex- 
posed to the water. When hard, the caster 
breaks off the superfluous metal, and sepa- 
rates the plaster mould from the plate. It is 
then picked, the edges trimmed, the back 
fihaveil to a proper thickness, and made 
ready for the press. 

The process of electrotyping lias, of late, 
become an important element, and is in many 
cases pi'cferred to the old .system of stereo- 



typing. It results from the disposition of 
copper, held in solution, to deposit itself on 
a metal surface, when under the influence of 
magnetism. 

htere.. typing by the Electrotype process 
is conducted as follows : An impression ia 
taken from the corrected forms or engraved 
block upon a plate of wax, and finely pul- 
verized iilumbago is then dusted thiidy over 
the surface of the wax. The excess is blown 
away in a machine contrived for this pur- 
pose, and the fine dust remains uniformly in 
contact with the wax in every little depres- 
sion and line, without filling these up. The 
object of the plumbago is to act as the con- 
ducting medium for the galvanic current, 
until a film of copper is deposited. But by 
a recent modification of the process, this 
film is also produced before the article is 
put into the trough, by the application of 
a wash of sulphate of copper, (solution of 
blue viljiol,) and dusting over it fine iron 
filings. The solution is decomposed by the 
iron, and metallic copper is immediai.ely 
precipitated, forming a delicate film which 
uniformly covers the whole surface. The 
wa.x plate rela!ning this film is well washed, 
and is then ready for the galvanic trough. 
In this it is left over night under the influ- 
ence of the electric current, and in the 
moriung when taken out, the coating of cop- 
per is foimd to be sullicientl}' thick for hand- 
ling. The wax is removed, and the copper 
sheet, fii'st tinned on the back, is placed fiice 
down in an apparatus in which it is covered 
with melted type metal. Thus backed a 
plate i- obtained, which, after being dressed 
by planing and squaring, is screwed down 
upon a ni.aliogany block, the height of the 
whole being the same as that of type. 

Plata's for use upon the cylinders of print- 
ing machines are made with the curve of the 
cylinders, the forms themselves in which the 
tvpe are paged having a convex surface, 
which gives them the name of " turtles." 

In making copper faced type, ordinary 
types are set in a fiame so arranged as to 
let only the letter end in the copper solution 
of the battery. The deposit of copper ad- 
heres to this end, which it conqiletely covers. 
.Such tvpe are now extensively used in large 
establishment-!, and are very durable. 

Within the past twelve years, several pro- 
cesses have been invented, for copying ])rint- 
ed books, steel and wood engravings, maps, 
etc., by photography upon stone or hardened 
wax or metallic surfaces and by etching, or 



NEWSrAPEUS — DAILIES — WEEKLIES— PERIODICALS. 



301 



the use of acids, transforming these copies 
into matrices from wliich plates could be 
ca -t analogous to stereotype or electrotype 
plates. These processes, of which Osborne's 
Photolithographic, the Heliotype, the Alber- 
type, anil jewctt's and Mor>e's Cerographic 
processes are those best known, have reached 
various stages of perfection, but are undoubt- 



I edly destined to be of great service in some 

departments of the printing art. One of 
1 the finest specimens of this kind of work, 
' was the fac-simile edition of Albert Durer's 

" Little Passion," copied from William C. 

Prime. Esq., by Mr. Julius Bien, a New 

York Ai'tist." 



l^EWSPAPERS. 



CHAPTER I. 

KEWSPAPERS— DAILIE.S— WEEKLIES- 
EIODIOALS. 



-PE- 



The power and circulation of the daily 
press are among the marvels of the present 
day, and they are features peculiarly Ameri- 
can. No country presents such a number 
of news publications, and none such a uni- 
versal popular demand for them. This re- 
sult has been obtained mostly in the last 
twenty-five years, by a combination of 
causes. The two leading ones, are the intro- 
duction of the cheap press and the inven- 
tion of the means of so multiplying num- 
bers, that much interesting matter can be 
sold for a little money. Take a leading 
mcirning daily. This is equal to a book of 
more than ino solid octavo pages, sold to 
the retailer for one and a half cents every 
morning, no profit being derived from the 
sale. This has become possible only through 
the ability to produce a \ast number on 
one hand, and through the immense re- 
ceipts for advertising on the other. By the 
introduction of a cheap press, is not to be 
understood the mere printing of a mass of 
matter for a small price, Init the introduction 
of such matter as attracts the attention of 
persons not previously habitual readers, and 
exciting in them so strong an interest as to 
make papers for the future a necessity. It is 
this which has been done by the cheap press. 

The first newspapers of tlio country were 
hardly worth the name. In the colonies 
there was little of interest to draw public 
attention, and sucli papers as the Spectator 
and Tattler came across the water to meet 
the literary taste of the more wealthy, while 
the jealous care of the mother country 
watched over the colonial papers, lest they 



should breed sedition. Dr. Franklin informs 
us that the first start he got in life was 
through the misfortune of his brother, who 
owned the paper on wliicli he was an appren- 
tice, in incurring the displeasure of the gov- 
ernment for disrespectful remarks. The pa- 
per was suspended, as Paris papers are at the 
present day, and Benjamin's indentures were 
cancelled in order that he might become the 
nominal owner. The editor of the Boston 
Cotirant, in 1732, made his valedictory to 
the public, because he found it too vexatious 
to be running with his proof in his pocket 
to the government house, and the new editor 
promised to do the best he could under the 
circumstances. There were few subjects 
then to interest the general reader, and the 
restricted state of industry allowed but little 
range for advertising. The paper was poor, 
and mostly imported at a liigli price from 
England, while the laborious work of a man 
through the live-long night on the presses of 
the day, gave but a few liundred to circulate 
in the morning, and these few were to be 
sold at a rate that must cover all the expen- 
ses — that is to say, for more than they were 
worth. 

The first daily paper published in the 
United States, was the Pennsylvania Packet 
or General Advertiser, started as a weekly, by 
John Dunlap, in 1771, and merged into a 
daily in 1784, at the peace. To one of the 
conductors of the paper. Washington gave 
the manuscript of his " Farewell Address," 
and which, at a sale made in lis.Jo, was pur- 
chased by Mr. Lennox, of New York, for 
82,000. The first form in which printed 
news appeared in England was that of dog- 
gerel ballads, which were issued as early as 
the reign of Queen Mary. These were fol- 
lowed by occasional sheets, or pamphlets, of 



302 



NEWSPAPERS. 



news; but the first appioacli to a regular 
newspaper was the Weekly Neivesfruin Italy, 
Germanie, rfr., May 23, 1(1'.'2, which was con- 
tinued, with some variations of title and oc- 
casional intermissions, until 1640. The ear- 
liest specimen of parliamentary reportiiifr is 
entitled, The Diurnal Occurrences or Daily 
Proceedings of Both Houses in this Great 
and Happy Parliament, from Zd November, 
1640, to 'Ad November,' KjH. More than 
one hundred newspapers, with different 
titles, appear to have been published between 
this date and tlie death of Charles!., and up- 
ward of eiijhty others bL'twcen that event 
and the Itestoration. Occasional papers 
were issued after the civil war began, limited 
to local or special occurrences, as News from 
Hull, Truths from York, Tidings frojti Ire- 
land. The more rcLjuIar newspapers were 
published weekly at first, then twice or tlirieu 
in a week. The impatience of the people 
soon led to the publii\ition of daily papers ; 
and Spalding, the Aberdeen annalist, men- 
tions that in December, 1642, dailv papers 
came from London, called Diurnal Occur- 
rences, declaiing what was done in Parliament. 
In the Scottish campaign of 1650, the army 
of Charles and that of Oliver Cromwell each 
carried its printer along with it to report 
progress, and, of course, to exaggerate suc- 
cesses. It is from this circumstance that the 
first introduction of newspapers into Scotland 
has been attributed to r)liver Cromwell. 

The stirring events of the American Revo- 
lution in like manner gave a great impulse to 
printing; but that took the form of pamph- 
lets and circulars more than that of the peri- 
odical press. The event made the press free, 
and it began a now career; but the habits of 
the people had not been overcome, nor were 
the means of popularizing the press yet in 
existence. Nevertheless, politics became the 
staple of newspapers, which were started in 
most sections as the organs of parties and to 
support candidates for office ; as a matter of 
course these were re.ad mostly by those who 
were of the same way of tliinking. The cir- 
culation could never reacli a point that would 
make it profitable of itself, because the limit 
was the power of the press to work the papers. 
In the great cities the chief support of the 
press was the advertising patronai;-e, bestow- 
ed in some degree in the linht of political 
support. The foreign news and domestic 
items of intelligence maile up the general 
interests, with ship news, that began after the 
war of 1812 to have a more extended char- 



acter. These papers, published at $10 per 
annum, did not much interest the mass of 
people, beyond whose reach the price for the 
most part placed them ; advertising patron- 
age and government "pap" were therefore 
the sources looked to for profit. These pa- 
pers were seldom left in families, but were 
caiTied home by those who took ihem at 
their places of business. The papers of the 
early part of the century were very meagre 
The oldest existing papers of New York are 
the Commercial Advertiser, founded in 1797, 
and the Evening Post, in 1801. The rival- 
ry among the papers of the day was not so 
much to interest the general reading public, 
as to conciliate those commercial interests on 
the patronage of which the means of the paper 
mostly depended. The Commcixial Gazette, 
of New York, became a leading journal 
through the enterprise of its editor in col- 
lecting ship news. He himself rowed a boat, 
boarding vessels coming up the bay, to col- 
lect reports with which he enriched his col- 
umns. Other ])apers soon followed his ex- 
ample. In 1827, the New York Journal oj 
Commerce was started, chiefiy by Arthur 
Tappan, Esq., of Boston, and David Hale, 
then an auctioneer in Boston, was made joint 
editor with Mr. Halloek, of New Haven. 
About the same time, two papers were uni- 
ted in the Neio York Courier find Enquirer, 
under James Watson Webb. These two 
papers employed news schooners to furnish 
ship news at great expense. 'J'his enterprise 
was jiroraotod by the introduction of a Na- 
pier press, w hich allowed of an increased cir- 
culation of larger sized papers, and these 
became filled with advertising as the specu- 
lative years that exploded with ]8-i7 came 
on. The success of these two rival papers, 
was fatal to the odier old papers. The Mer- 
cantile Advertiser, by Butler ; the Daily Ad- 
vertiser, by Dwight and Townsend, and the 
Commercicd Gazette, hy Lang, which had long 
flourished, died out. Several other papers 
followed, among wliich was the New York 
American, an evening paper, edited by Chas. 
King, E?q. At that period cheap news- 
papers, fast presses, telegraph and express 
comp.anies made their appearance a 1 to- 
getiier, to work out by mutual aid the mar- 
vels that we have since witnessed. The 
first penny pajier was published by Benja- 
min H. Day, in 1833. It was about ten 
inches square, and sold for one cent, or to 
newsboys for sixty-two and a half cents per 
hundred. It was without editoriids, but was 



NliWSPAlMCRS DAILIES WEEKLIES PERIODICALS. 



303 



filled with news items. It grew rapidly to 
a largo circulation, and aaiulring adveriise- 
moat<, swelled into a largtT sheet, wiiicli got 
into the hands of I\Ii-. l5e:ich. Mr. M. Y. 
lieacli and his son, M-. M. S. Pieaeh, con- 
dueied it almost entirely as a local paper, 
with no particular political cliaractcr, but 
with a very large circulation (fi' 1,(00 to 
7(),0i)0) up to 18G7. Mr. M. Y. Bi'ach was 
famous for having " many irons in the fire " 
at the same time, and besides the Sii/i, had 
a manufactory, two banks, and sundry otlier 
enterprises on foot. During and after the 
war, the circulation of the Snii had decreased, 
(its price being advanced to two cents u- 
that of the other morning papers hid been 
to four) and in 18G7 it had only aboit 48,()0a 
purchasers. A compaay of capitalists and 
literary men, among whom were Jlr. Cha>. 
A. Dana, previoudy of (he Nl'i9 York Tii- 
biiii? and the Ciiicujo Ji'pub'.ican, Mr. M. 
S. Beach. Mr. Hitclifock, fui-nierly of the 
New J.'Tusidi'.m Messenger, ]Mi\ I. \V. Eng- 
land, and others, in 1 807 purchased the Sun 
and til '. olil Tanim any ILi:e!, an 1 fitting up 
the latter in fine s yle, removed tlie pajjer 
to its new quarter-, and very greatly chang- 
ed its character. Its circulation fell off to 35,- 
OJ I, a id thei began to ri-e till it exceeded 
one hundred thou and, and h is maintained 
itself at about that point for more than a 
year past. It lias now a large editorial 
corps, an 1 in all its apiointmnnts is perhaps 
th ■ ino-t complete newspaper office in the 
world. In our illustrations we have pre- 
sented some of the appliances by means of 
which the edition of a hundred thousand 
copies, admirably printed, are flung off, in 
the space of a little more than three hours 
each morning. 

But to return to our history of newspapers. 
In 1835, .lames Gordon Heniiett, previously 
one of the editorial staff of the Cunrier and 
Enquirer, started the Neto York Herald, on 
a capital of SoOO, but with a most indom- 
itable energy. His first weeks expenses 
were $.')6. At the end of thirty seven years 
they are from $20,000 to $3ii,iioO per week. 
The price of the paper at first was one cent 
per copy. It was advanced soon to two 
cents, and during the war to four, at which , 
pri -e it has since remained. The circulation • 
of the paper increased rapidly but steiulily, 
till it reached 70,000 to 80,000 co|)ies, oc- 
casionally going even higher tiian this. The 
sheet has been repeatedly enlarged, and is 



now a very large double sheet with frequent 
sujiidements, making it triple or quadruple. 
It has never had any great political influ- 
ence, its aim being to keep on the popular 
side, whichever that might l)e, and its edito- 
rial columns have not indicated any remarkar 
ble ability ; but it has been very enterpris- 
ing' its market and financial reports, its vast 
and varied correspondence from all parts of 
the world, and its very full and generally 
ai'curate reports of public meetings of all 
sorts, speeches, lectures, addresses, and ser- 
mons, have been features wliirh have ensured 
it a great circulation. It would have been 
impo-silde, however, for it to have attained 
this, had not tlie improvements in printing 
machines made it possible to niultijily copies 
at the rate of 2.j,l)()0 to 30,000 per hour. 
Soon after the war commenced, the Herald, 
followed speedily by the oth -r morning p.a- 
pers, resorted to the plan of stereotyping the 
pages of its daily issue, in order to multiply 
them more easi y. This could not have been 
done by the old stereotyping process with 
sufficient rapidity to be of any service, but 
a method of siereotyping by means of papier 
mache, or a material analagous to it, then 
just invented, was rapid enough to answer 
all purposes, and with this and Hoe's ten 
cylinder printing machine, the proprietor of 
the //e'ttW could piint fast enough for his 
daily edition. Mr. Bennett died June 1,1872. 
The New York Tribune was issued for 
the first time in 1841. Horace Greeley, its 
editor and fir-t proprietor had come to New 
York in 1 831 as a printer, and had developed 
remarkable talent as an editor, and political 
writer He had projected several papers, 
.some of them campaign papers of very large 
circnlation ; for three or four j'ears previous 
hi had been editing the Neio Yorker, a very 
good but not a prolitable paper. He started 
the Tribune with $1,000, mostly borrowed 
money. In the thirty-one years since that 
time, the paper has become a great power 
in the nation. It has always been edited 
with ability, and has been for about half 
that time owned by a joint stock association, 
but Mr. Greeley has been its chief editor 
and master spirit. Always an active politi- 
ci.an, first a Whig and afterwards a Republi- 
can, he has made it from first to last a po- 
litical paper ; and though at times differing 
decidedly in opinion from his associates in 
the party, its editor has always been rec- 
ognized as one of its most valued leaders. 



soi 



NEWSPAPERS DAILIES — W:!EKLIES- 



"•ERIODICALS. 



He has recently (in May, 1872) been noin- 
inatiid for the Presidency by a convention 
held at Cincinnati, and the nomination ad- 
vocated by promiiient men of both political 
parties, and has in consequence withdrawn 
for the present from the editorial manage- 
ment of his paper. The circulation of the 
Daily Tribune is not so large as that of the 
Sun or the Herald, though greater than that 
of any other morning paper ; but the cir- 
culation of the Weel-li/ Tribune is vastly 
greater than that of any other political 
weekly in the United States — -reaching in 
some years li25,O00 copies weelily. A semi- 
weekly edition is also printed. 

The New York Times was founded in 
1850, by Henry J. Raymond, who had pre- 
viously been a writer on tlie staff of the 
Tribune and the Courier and Enquirer. It 
was some time in attaining to a jjrofitable 
success, but for eighteen or nineteen years 
past lias been one of the leading dailies of 
^'^ew York City. During Mr. Raymond's 
life time it was edited with marked ability, 
but since his deatli in 18G0, has hardly main- 
tained its old reputation. 

The World, (bunded in 18G0, by an Asso- 
ciation with a large capital, as a IJepublican 
and religious daily paper, met with several 
changes in the course of the next two years, 
and in 18G2 became a Democratic paper, in 
which faith it has since continued. It is 
very ably edited and has a circulation nearly 
as large as that of the limes — about i!5,IJU0 
of its daily edition. 

Of the later ventures in the way of morn- 
ing papers, in New York City, only the 
Star has achieved any considerable success. 
It has taken rank with the older dailies, 
though it would be diliiculi to say why it 
should have done so. 

Several of the low priced evening papers 
have been successfid. The Telegram, owned 
and controlled by the son of the proprietor 
of the Herald; tlie News, the Witness, a daily 
religious ]iaper of decided ability, the Express, 
and the Evening Mail have each a circu- 
lation ranging from 10,nOit to 25,000. 

Of course none of these papers are sup- 
ported by their ,'-ul)scription lists or their 
circulation. In the case of the larger sheets 
this would hardly sullico to pay for the pa- 
per on which they are printed, but these 
extended circulations make them very valu- 
able as advertising mediums, and they de- 
rive so princely a revenue from their adver- 



tiscmeiits, llhit in favorable years the net 
income from the Herald and the Tribune has 
reached $200,000 or $250,000 per annum, 
and that of the Times and the World has 
exceeded SliX),000 each. The Staats Zei- 
tunfj, {State Gazette) a German daily paper, 
has a circulation inferior proliably only to 
those of the Herald and Sun. The Erening 
Post, Commercial Advertiser, etc, though 
printed as folios, and nut as quarto sheets, 
have a very large advertising patronage, 
mostly from the shipping and wholesale nier- 
chant-i, book publishers, etc. The adver- 
tisements in the morning papers are, to a 
large extent, fresh advertisements daily, re- 
ceived and paid f^ir the previous da}'. Those 
of the evening papers are, many of them, 
les-i frequen:ly changed. Tlio advertisements 
of the morning papers belong to the day on 
which thi'y appear, and conipo-e a part of 
the life and the news thereof, like any 
other matter in the paper — to many peo|)le 
mcjre interesting and more imponant. No 
portion of a great metropolitan journal, then, 
is dead matter; even the advertising col- 
umns, which many suppose to be dull and 
tedious, are full of life and interest, and fresh 
every day. It is amusing to contrast such 
a ]iaper with the Philadelpkia Gazette of 
1750, then conducted by Benjamin Frank- 
lin. \ii dimensions are about eiglit by ten. 
The news an 1 reading matter which it con- 
tains, could all be put into one of the pages 
of this b<jok. It /his not a single line of edi- 
torial. Its latest foreign news was about 
three or four months old. Its domestic news 
principally relate<l to the Indians. Among 
its advertisements were several notices of 
the sale of negroes in Pennsylvania. The 
progress of the newspaper art is well illus- 
trated by comparing this sheet with those 
issued in our large cities at the present day. 
At first the extension of this circulation 
of the city newspapers was greatly facilita- 
ted by the expresses which received the 
packagi's as they came from the press for 
the larger to\s'ns and cities, and hurried them 
out to the dealers, liut very soon there was 
found a necessity of an intermediate agency 
which could make for itself a vast bu-iness 
while at the same time it saved expense to 
the dealers in other cities, towns and villages, 
and the news companies came into existence. 
There bad been several houses each with its 
considerable circle of customers, which dis- 
patched to their several customers a dailyi 



NEWSPAPERS DAILIES WEEKLIES PEHIODICALS. 



SOS 



tri-week!y, or semi-weekly package of tlie 
literary papers and periodicals, together with 
such Looks and stationery as might be sent 
in to them to pack. Most of these dealers 
in New York City united and formed the 
Anieiican News Company, which soon sup- 
plied its customers with all that they required 
from its own vast stock, and giving its or- 
ders daily for such cpuintities of tlie daily 
papers as it required for its customers, hur- 
ried these to its bioad shelves, packed them 
with the other goods ordered, and sent them 
in quantities of.en of many tons by tlie morn- 
ing trains and cxpres-es, with all of which 
it had arrangiments, to its thousands of ciis- 
tomei-s in all direi-lions. Its business grew 
till it took from 2.JO,000 to SdO.OOO copies 
of Honner's Ledrjer and half as many of 
some of the other popular literary and illus- 
trated papers, oOjOuO or -in,!,!!!!) copies of 
t!ie Independent, and enormous quantities of 
tlie Sunday papers, whole editions of popn- 
lar books and pamphlet-^, 'JO,iiOO or 100,000 
of Harper's Monthhj, etc., etc. In process 
of time, other news companies were organ- 
ized in New York, and a gigantic one at 
Cliicago, and tlie business was divided to 
some extent, but tlie American News Co. 
has still a vast business. An attempt was 
ra.ade a few years ago to furnish the New 
York morning papers at the breakfast hour 
to all customers on railroad routes within a 
radius of two humlred miles or more around 
the city. This was accomplished by arrang- 
ing a special express train to start out on 
each road at about two o'clock each morn- 
ing, taking all the papers which were printed 
up to that time, driving with ail speed to 
the ra Iroad, throwing them on the train and 
mailing up the packages on board, throwing 
them out at each point to an agent as the 
train sliot by, till the farthest limit of morn- 
ing disirihutiou was reached. The plan 
proved practicable, but loo expensive to pay 
at first, and it was dropped. 

The sale of papers at the steamboats and 
in the cars has become a large business, and 
the privilege of doing so is now farmed out 
by the companies. The privilege is paid 
for at rates sometimes as high as S-',000 per 
annum on good routes, say some of the best 
tra\eled in New York. The dealer employs 
boys wiio start with the out trains in tlie 
mornhig, supplying all who go. These trains 
meet others, in an hour's ride, coming in, 
filled not only with passengers from a dis- 



tance, but with persons who, doing business 
in the city, commute on the road, and come 
in every day ; all of them are anxious for the 
pa])ei's, and they are sold at a large advance 
on the cost ; the four cent papers usually at 
from five to ten cents; the >even cent pa- 
pers at ten or twelve, and the two cent pa- 
pers at three to five cents, thus yielding the 
veiKlor a liandsome profit. 

The Sundav press has become a feature in 
New York within twenty years. The first 
Sunday paper was the Siindny Morning 
News, pulilished in 1835, by Samuel Jeuks 
Smith. It had a considerable success, but 
stop|ied on the death of Mr. Smith. In 
1840, the Atlas was started liy Ilerrick, 
Ropes & West. The last-named had been a 
reporter on the Herald. The paper had a 
great success, and is still flourish ng. Tho 
Sunday Mercury was next started, and re- 
ceived a great impulse from the '■ Patent 
Sermims " of Dow, jr. Then followed the 
Sundcy Times, the Dispatch, and others, 
which have attained much success. 

The circulation of the New York dailies 
is now (1872) more than 500,iiiiO copies, 
against 10,000 in 1835. In 18G5, there 
were o07 newspapers and periodicals pub- 
lished in the city of New York (073 in the 
state) of wliich -21 were dailies, with an ag- 
gregate circulation of 425,000 copies daily, 
8 femi-weekly with a reported circulation of 
about 75,itOO; 223 weekly of which 42 had 
an aggregate circulation of 1,587,5(J0; 11 
semi-monthly and 1 18 monthly; 11 of tho 
monthlies reported a circulation in the ag- 
gregate of 337,0»0. These returns are so 
incomplete as to be of very little value, and 
those of the census of 1870 which give the 
aggregate of the newspapers published in 
the state at 4'J2.770,8t>8 for the year are 
very far below the truth. It is certain that 
more than 375,000,000 newspapers are 
printed in New York City every year, aside 
from magazines, reviews, and quarterly pe- 
riodicals. 

The weekly papers are of several classes. 
Those devoted to light literature have the 
largest circulation. Bonner's New York 
Ledger leads in this class, maintaining a 
weekly circulation (mainly through the 
American News Co., and a large subscription 
list) of about 400,000 copies. Street tf 
Smith's Weekly boasts of a circulation of 
about 300,000 ; Harpers' Illustrated Weeicly 
from 130,000 to 150,000, and Harpai 



3^6 



NEWSPAPERS DAILIES WEEKLIES PERIODICALS. 



Bazar nearly 100,000 ; the Mercury, Frank 
Leslie's 1 liistral' d Paper, the Fireside Com- 
panion, tlie Cliimncij Corner, and Moore's 
Jiural Neio Yorker, range from 75,000 to 
100,000, and the numbor of papers of this 
class, ranging from 40,000 to 70,000 is large. 

The religious papers have also attained a 
large circulation within a few years past. 
The Clirislian Union now takes the lead 
with a circulation of about 100,000 ; (he - 
Independinl comes next with nearly 75,000 ; 
while the Observer, Examiner and Clironiclc, 
Franr/c/ist, Advocate, Metropolitan liccord, 
and Methodist, range between 25,0u0 and 
50,000 each. 

There arc also several scientific and ni's- 
cellaneous journals, such as the Scientific 
American, Hearth and Home, Railroad Jour- 
nal, etc., elc., which have a large clientage 
ranging from 25,000 to 50,000. 

In other cities there are also some in- 
stances of great success. The Ledyer of 
Philadelphia has a daily circulat'on as large 
or larger than that of the Smi, but no other 
daily in that city exceeds 30,000. 'I he Sat- 
urday Niyld, a weekly literary paper, has a 
circulation of over 200,000, but none of the 
other literary papers of that city exceed 
100,000. 

Of daily papers in other cities, the Tri- 
bune and the Times, both of Chicago, the 
Journal, the Traveller and the Transcript of 
Boston, the Commercial, the Gazette, the 
Chronicle, and the Enquirer of Cincinnati, 
the Republican and the Democrat of St. 
Louis, the American a'ld the Gazette of Bal- 
timore, the Courier-Journal of Louisville, 
and the Republican of Springfield, Mass., 
are those of largest circulation. Some of 
the political weeklies of other cities have a 
very large circulation. The Toledo Blade, 
Toledo, Ohio, has a circulation i-auging from 
80,000 to 100,000, and Pommy's Democrat. 
before its removal to New York, had about 
100,000. All the papers of large circulation 
which depend to any extent upon their sub- 
scription lists, use folding machines and di- 
recting machines which save a vast amount 
of hand labor. 

The following statistics of American Jour- 
nalism, drawn irom the census of 1870, will 
interest all our readers. The whole number 
of newspapers and jieriodicals in the United 
States, is 5,8 15, to which are to be added 
73 for the Territories, 35-} more are printed 
in the Dominion of Canada, and 2'J in the 



other Briti-h Colonies, making a total for 
the L^nited States and British America of 
6,30' • periodicals. Of those published in 
the United States, there are : 



Daily, 574 

Triweekly lOT 

Semi-weekly llo 

Weekly, 4,'J70 



Semi-monthly, 9fS 

Monthly, 621 

IJi-monhily, 13 

Quarterly, 49 



Total, 5,845 

Of this immen-e aggregate, 79 papers, 
ranging from weekly to quaiterly, aie [)nb- 
lished only lor advertisin;; purposes. Sub- 
tracting these as not fairly to be counted 
among the publications which illustrate the 
journalistic enierprise of the n.ation, we have 
5,7G6 newspapers and jieriodicals in the 
counirj' — an average of one to about (),500 
of the population. The whole number is 
distributed among various interests as fol- 
lows ; 

Political, 4,328 

Afrriculture and Horticulture, 93 

renevoient and Secret Societie.'', 81 

Commercial and Financial. 122 

Illustrated. Literary, and Miscellaneous, 502 

Specially devoted to Nationality, 30 

1 echnical and Professional, 207 

Keligious, 407 

Sporting, 6 

The political papers are divided into 
C,5G0 weekly, 552 daily, 101 tri-wcekly, 100 
semi-weekly, 8 semi-monthly, and C monthly. 
The religious papers are di\ideil as follows : 
Weekly, 208 ; semi-monthly, 40 ; monthly, 
141 ; bi-monthly, 1 ; quarterly, 17. There 
are three daily scientific or professional 
newspajHrs ; the remainder, 204, range from 
weekly to quarterly, there being 130 month- 
ly. 'Ihe literary and illustrated papers run 
the entiie g.'imiit, from 8 daily to 7 quarterly, 
with 303 weekly and 157 monthly. There 
are 8 daily commercial or financial papers, 
5G weekly and 40 monthly. Agricultural 
papers : weekly, 35 ; semi-monthly, 2 ; 
monthly, 56. Of the "sporting" papers, 5 
are weekly and 1 monthly. 

Turning to the vital question of circulation, 
we iind the facts of special intere-t, and can 
best exhibit them, perhaps, by the following 
table, in which we give the number of ei'.ch 
class with the aggregate and average circula- 
tion : 



Political, 4,3;iS 

A-jricullural, 

Societies, 

Financial, 

Literary, 

National, 

Scientific or Professional, 

Uclijcious, 

I Sporting 



No. 


Circulation. 


Average. 


S'.i.S 


8,778.320 


2,0-28 


93 


710,752 


8,072 


Bl 


257,080 


3,173 


122 


690.200 


5,657 


502 


4,421.935 


8,808 


'.() 


45,150 


2.157 


20- 


741,531 


3, .596 


4117 


4,704,rS3 


11,706 


6 


73,600 


12,250 



INTERIOR VIEW OF THE N. T. StJN PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT. 




EDITORIAL ROOM. 




tuJH0^1.\'j I.CIUM — htlllMJ Ul' TVI'E. 




PRESS HUUM. 




STEHEOTYPING ROOM. 



NUWSrArKUS dailies WKEKLIES PERIODICALS. 



307 



Tlie aggregate circulalion of daily jia- 
pers in the United States is 2,606,-')47 ; 
averas^e circulation. 4.;)41. The weekly 
paptTs circulate 111,591,743 copies, with an 
average of "2, i80. 

The total annual circulation of newspapers 
printed in the State of New York is 4'J2,- 
770,«G8 copies, being more than twice tlie 
niimbL-r issued in any o;lier State. The next 
greatest niuiiber of is-ues is in Pennsylva- 
nia, where •2i3,3.S0,a32 copies are animally 
printed. Mass. chusetts prints l()7,(!iil.",).J2 
copies, Illinois 102,G8G,-2U4, Ohio, 93,.j'J2,- 



448. Next comes California, with 45,8G9,- 
408 newspaper sheets per annum. 

The following table shows the average 
circulation of newspapers and periodicals in 
eacii S ate and Territory, and the Colonies 
of British America ; the total annual circula- 
tion, and the average niinil)er of copies 
printed yearly for each inhabitant. This 
is not a sure indication of the relative num- 
l)er of readers in each State, as i he leading 
papers in large cities arc largely circulated 
outside the State where piinted: 



states, Territories, &c. ATcrajo Circulation. 

AlaKima 1 ,i>;^) 

Arkansas 6:>0 

Caliloriiia 1 ,S46 

Comuvticut 3,000 

Delaware 1 .-'47 

District of Columbia, 4,323 

yioriila 616 

Georgia 1 .270 

Illinois 2 907 

Indiana, 1,490 

Iowa I,ni3 

Kansas 1 ,S28 

Kentucky, 1 ,9U3 

Louisiana 1 ,220 

Maine, 2,2.<7 

Maryland 2,077 

Massaehnsetts 5.709 

Michigan 1 ,ri54 

Minnesota 1,121 

Mississippi 753 

Missonn 2,104 

Nebraska 913 

Nevada 51 S 

New Hampshire, 2,194 

New .Icr.--cy, 1 ,475 

New York 7,411 

North Carolina, 814 

Ohio 3,154 

Ore-on 1 ,3:.2 

Pennsylvania 3,704 

Kho;le" Island 2,489 

South Carolina, 1 ,354 

Tennessee, 1 ,747 

Texas 701 

Vermont, 2,528 

Virginia 1,107 

West Virginia, 842 

Wisconsin 1,317 

Territories 858 

New Hrnnswick, Dominion of Canada, 1,750 

Nova Scotia, Dmninion of Canada, 1,.334 

Ontario, Dominion of Canada, 1,897 

Quebec, Dominion ot Canada, 1 ,409 

British Colonies, 640 

Total Averasre 1 ,842 





Averace No. of 


Total Annual 


copies printed Yearly 


Circulation. 


for each lahubitaat. 


8,891,432 


9 


2,438,716 


5 


45,869,408 


82 


15,697,320 


29 


1,596 4sO 


13 


11,637,400 


89 


841,880 


5 


14,447,388 


12 


102,686,204 


41 


28,515,862 


17 


19,344,636 


16 


12,465,768 


35 


17,392,044 


13 


14,628,028 


20 


9,082,596 


14 


19,461,660 


25 


107,691,952 


74 


17 513.120 


15 


2,811,120 


7 


4,403,460 


5 


37,737,564 


22 


3,147,1:0 


27 


1,714,960 


40 


5,711,720 


18 


19,766,104 


22 


492,770,868 


113 


4,220,675 


4 


93,592,443 


35 


3,658,304 


40 


233,380,532 


67 


10,048,048 


46 


5,804.135 


8 


15,712.236 


13 


5,813,4'i2 


7 


4,486 9:4 


14 


13,790,788 


12 


3,372,668 


8 


20,577,.396 


20 


S,8.'9,121 


13 


8,961,808 


12 


3,818,784 


10 


33,757,528 


17 


21,812,560 


15 


1,499,922,219 


35 



TELEGRAPHS-THEIR ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 



CHAPTER I. 

TELEGRAPHS— THEIK ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 

" Canst thou send Iifthtnin{;s that they may go, and say 
unto thee, ' Here we are ".' " — Job. 

The invention and use of electric tele- 
graphs are among the most important of 
modern improvements ; and it is somewhat 
remarkable tliat the invention justifies the 
trite observation, that great inventions are 
made always at the moment they are wanted. 
Telegrajjhs have been used from the re- 
motest antiquity, by signals of various kinds ; 
and one by flags, to signal the arrival of 
vessels below, has been used during the )ires- 
ent century in Boston ; and, in New York, 
one operaling by arms has been used for 
the same purjiose from the Narrows to the 
roof of the Merchants' Exchange in New 
York. The electric telegraph applied light- 
ning to intelligence as steam was applied to 
motion, and came into being to e.vceed, by 
its rapidity of intelligence, the means just 
invented to convey more rapidly by rail. 
Indeed its action is necessary to the latter, 
since it would be very difficult to operate 
long lines of railroad, like the New York 
Erie, and Central, without the aid of the 
electric telegraph. 'Ihe patent of Morse, 
who invented the first practical recording 
telegraph, was taken out in the year 1840 ; 
since then, numerous modes of recording have 
been invented, and improvements adopted, 
and there are now many systems in use, 
although the Morse telegraph in its various 
modifications, is generally emjiloyed in all 
parts of the world for the general business 
of telegraphing. 

It is curious that just ninety years after 
Dr. Franklin identifii'il lightning with elec- 
tricity, by means of his kite, Morse should 
have schooled electricity to send messages 
instantaneously over wire at great distances. 
We say instantaneously, because the ascer- 
tained speed of electricity over wires with- 
out resistance is 288,01)0 miles per second, 
which is scarcely perceptible, although at that 



rate it would take six minutes to send a 
despatch to the sun. 

This all-pervading element manifests it- 
self in countless ways — in the sparkling of 
animal hair ; in the rustling of silk, which 
" betrays your poor heart to woman ;" in 
the aurora that illumines the North ; in the 
meteor that startles the astonished observer ; 
it flashes in the lightning bolt that rives the 
oak, without, while it gently penetrates into 
the lady's ])arlor and fills her form, as she 
glides over her warm, thick carpet, until the 
metal tube of the gas burner will attract 
enough from her fingers to ignite the gas, or 
from her lips to startle a newly-entered 
friend. It will also convey to her the thoughts 
of <listant minds with more than the assiduity 
of Puck, by means of the invention of 
Morse. 

Professor Morse was not the discoverer of 
the analogy between magnetism and elec- 
tricity, but he was the first who made prac- 
ticable all former discoveries and improve- 
ments in the production of a recording 
telegraph. Tlio three leading properties of 
electricity that make telegraphs possible, are, 
first, its constant desire to seek an equilib- 
rium, always going where there is less; 
second, that the production of electricity is 
always in two fluids, called positive and 
negative, wliich possess a mutual attraction 
for each other : third, that difi'erent substan- 
ces have very different conducting ])owers — ■ 
over some it passes with the utmost freedom, 
while over others it will scarcely pass at all. 
On this depends the possibility of telegraph- 
ing, since by it the current of electricity may 
1)0 arrested or conveyed at the will of the 
operator. Mr. William Sturgeon of Lon- 
don, discovered in 1S2.') that when a bar 
of soft iron was ])lace<l wiihin a coil of con- 
ducting wires it was rendered magnetic, and 
and would so remain as long as the current 
of electricity passed through the wires. The 
telegraph consists in connecting two of these 
magnets by a wire of any number of miloa 



k '.«^ 



^-v. 







r 



'a^-^^y /. ^^j. y72c'rj^ 



TELEGRAPHS THEin OIUGIN AND PR0GKES3. 



S09 



in leiigtli, and directing through it a current 
from ;ui electric battery. By cutting oft' 
tlie current, llie iron becomes alternately 
charged and at rest with great rapidity, 'lo 
form the current, it is necessary that the 
wire should form a circuit, or that eacli end 
of tlie wire should communicate with tlie 
ground. The interruption is caused by 
stopping this communication. The first 
telegrapii invented by Professor Morse con- 
sisted of an electro-magnet, formed by bend- 
ing a small rod of iron in the form of a 
horse-shi'e, upon which was wound a few 
yards of copper wire insulated with cotton 
thread. This magnet was then placed upon 
the middle of a painter's sretching frame 
for canvass, the bottom of whicli was nailed 
to the edge of a common table. Across the 
lower part of the frame was constructed a 
narrow trough to hold three narrow cylin- 
der of wood. A wooden clock was placed 
at one end of this trough. The cylinder 
next to the clock had a small pulley-wheel 
fixed upon its prolonged axis, outside the 
trough ; a smiilar pulley-wheel was fixed 
upon the prolonged axis of one of tlie slower 
wheels of the train of wlieels outside the 
clock ; these two pulleywheels were con- 
nected b"v' an endless cord or band. Upon 
the cylinder fjirthest from the clock was 
wound a ribbon of jjaper, which, when the 
clock train was put in motion was gradually 
unrolled and passing over the middle cylin- 
der was rolled up upon the cylinder nearest 
the clock by means of the cord and pulleys. 
An A shaped pendulum was suspended 
by its apex from the centre of the top of 
the frame, directly above the centre of the 
middle cylinder in the trough below. This 
lever was made of two thin rules of woo<l 
meeting at the top but opening downwards 
about one inch apart and joined at the bot- 
tom by a transverse bar (which was close to 
the paper as it moved over the middle cylin- 
der,) and another about one inch above it. 
Through the centre of these two bars a 
sm;dl tube was fixed through which a pencil 
loosely played. The pencil had a small 
weight upon its top to keep the [wint in con- 
stant contact with the paper ribbon. Upon 
the lever directly opposite to the poles of 
the electro-m'agnet was fastened the arma- 
ture of the magnet or a small bar of soft 
iron. The movement of the lever was 
guided by stops on the frame at the sides 
of the lever, permitting it only a movement 
forward to and back from the magnet ; the 



pencil at the bottom of the lever was thus 
allowed to advance when the magnet was 
charged and to re reat when discharo-ed, 
about one eighth of an inch. '1 he levcr^ad- 
vanced by the attraction of the magnet and 
was retracted by a weight or spring. 

Tlie voltaic battery or generator (f elec- 
tricity was connected by one of its poles to 
one of the helices of the magnet while the 
other pole was connected with a mercurj 
cup; and a conjunctive wire ronnccied a 
second mercury cup to the other helix of 
the magnet. The circuit was closed I y dip- 
ping a forked wire into the two cups of mer- 
cury, when the magnet became charged, the 
armature was attracted, and the lever <lrawn 
toward the magnet. AVhen the forked wire 
was removed the m.ignet was discharged 
and the spring brought back the lever to its 
normal position. When the clock work 
was put in motion the ribbon of paper was 
drawn over the middle cylinder and the 
pencil attached to the lever being in con- 
stant contact with the ribbon of pajier traced 
a continuous line lengthwise with the ribbon. 

The pathway of the pencil point, when 
the lever was attracted towards and held by 
the magnet for a longer or shorter time, 
contains the three elements of points, sjiaces 
and lines, forming by their various comlu- 
nations, the various conventional characters 
for numerals and letters. 

Professor Morse subsequently modified 
the form of his telegraph, although the [irin- 
ciple upon which its action depended re- 
mained substantially the same. In place of 
the wooden cylinders operated by a wooden 
clock for carrying the paper band at a regu- 
lar rate, he employed small brass rollers 
moved by means of mechanism analagous to 
clock-work ; and instead of the armature 
being attached to a wooden pendulum 
which vibrated over the pa])er, he attached 
it to one end of a brass lever sustained in a 
horizontal position by two pivots, the other 
end of the lever being armed with a 
steel point. Under the soft iron armature 
at one end of the lever was placed an 
electro-magnet, while the steel point at 
the other end of the lever, was beneath the 
roller which carried the band of paper. 
Now when the circuit is closed — that is 
completed — the armature of the electro- 
magnet is attracted through the magnetism 
created in the helix by the jiassage of the 
electric current, and this attraction causes 
the point of the pen to touch the paper and 



310 



TELEGRAPHS — THEIE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 



to trace upon it a line the length of which 
depends upon the duration of time in which 
the circuit remains whole. If the circuit is 
opencil the current ceases to flow, tlie mag- 
netism disappears instantly and a spring at- 
taclied to the lever draws it away from the 
papsr and the line ceases. By opening and 
closing the. circuit rapidly dots are produced 
upon the paper the number of wliicli de- 
pends upon the number of times that the 
circuit is broken and closed. If the circuit 
is closel for a longer time a dash or a short 
line is mide upon the paper. We liave thus 
the combinations of au alphabet of dots and 
lines. Thus a is a dot and a dash, b a dash 
and three dots, &c. The alphabet is so ar- 
ranged that those letters occurring most fre- 
quently are more easily transmitted; thus e 
is one d^t; t one dash. An expert operator 
can transmit from thirty to forty words a 
minute by this instrument on a land line of 
200 or 'i'M miles in length. 

Tiie transmitting apparatus is very simple, 
being designed only for the opening and 
closing of the circuit in a manner more easy 
than by holding the ends of the wire in the 
hands, as is done where there is no appara- 
tus. The two ends of wire are separated 
by two pieces of metal, one of wliich is a 
brass lever surmounted by an ivory button, 
and the other is a brass anvil tipped with 
platinim. The brass lever is mounted upon 
pivots, in front of the axis of wliieh is sol- 
dered a nipple of platinum, which by the 
depression of the lever comes in contact 
with the platinum tipped anvil, and thus 
closes the circuit. 

To the Morse system at a later period, 
was added the '' sounder," a simple contri- 
vance, by which signals are conveyed by 
sound. Up to 18.50 the operator reail the dis- 
patch from slips of paper to the copyist, who 
wrote it down. It was soon found, however, 
that the despatch could be read by the 
'' click " of the instruments, and the ojiera- 
tor now copies, himself, from sound. 

Several modifications of the Morse tele- 
graph have been maile, the principal of 
which is to substitute ink marking for em- 
bossing. The Morse telegraph in its various 
modifications is now used almost exclusively 
throughout the world. 

The number of inventions connected with 
the electric telegraph is almost endless, and 
would engross a long series of volumes for 
their description ; but the only system at 
present in use for general telegrapliic com- 



munication in the United States, besides the 
Morse, is the letter printing telegraph, in- 
vented by jMr. G. Jil. Phelps, and this in- 
strument is only used in four out of the six 
tliousand telegraphic stations in the United 
States. 

Professor INIorse had no sooner shown 
that a telegraph could be constructed through 
tlie aid of electricity than his attention was 
turned to the discovery of some insulating 
substance by means of which the wires 
could be enveloped and buried in the earth, 
it not being deemed practicable to place 
them in the open air. Tarred yarn satu- 
rated v.ith a pi'eparation of asphaltum, was 
among the first insulating materials u.sed for 
this purpose, and the lines constructed in 
18-13 were covered witli this substance, and 
buried in tlie earth. This insulation proved 
so faulty, however, that it was at once aban- 
doned, and the wires were insulated with 
glass upon poles in the open air. Still if 
it was decided to relinquish the idea of 
building subterrivnean lines, the fact was 
apparent that some good insulating material 
must be found which would permit the sub- 
mergence of the wires across straits or navi- 
gable rivers. Various substances were tried 
to accomplish this result, but nothing satis- 
factory was obtained until the discovery of 
gutta percha, which proved to be one of the 
most perfect insulators known, and admirably 
adapted by its plastic and flexible qualities 
for the insulation of sulmiarine wires. 

In 18.50 the first electric cable was laid 
in the open sea between England and France. 
This cable consisted of a solid copper wire, 
covered with gutta percha. The landing 
place in France was Cape Grissiez, from which 
place a few messages passed sufficient to test 
the accuracy of the principle. The commu- 
nication thus established between the conti- 
nent and England was, after a few hours, 
abruptly stopped. A diligent fisherman, ply- 
ing his vocation, took up part of the cable in 
his trawl and cutoff apiece which he brought 
in triumph to Boulogne, where he exhibited 
it as a specimen of rare sea-weed, with its 
centre filled with gold. It is believed that 
this piscator ignnhilis returned again and 
again to search for further specimens of this 
treasure of the deep. It is, at all event% 
perfectly certain that he succeeded in de- 
stroying the submarine cable. 

This accident caused the attention of 
scientific men to be directed to the discovery 
of some mode of preserving submarine cables 



TELUGRAPHS — TUEIK OKIGIN AND PROGRESS. 



311 



from similar casual ies, and it was decided, 
that tlie wire insulated by gutta percha 
should form a core or centre to a wire rope, 
so as to give protection to it during the pro- 
cess of paj'ing out and laying down, as well 
as to guard it from rocks and the anchors 
of vessels. 

In 1 Mo 1 a cable protected in this manner 
was laid between Dover and Calais, where 



Amongst the most important submarine 
lines are those which were laid across the 
Atlantic Ocean in 18(!5 and 1»GG. 

The conductor of these cables consists of 
a copper strand of seven wires, six laid round 
one, and weighing 300 lbs. per mile. 

'J he in>u!ation consists of four layers of 
gutta percha laid in alternately with four 
thin layers of Cliattertou's compound. 



E 




Fy:2. 





g. 1 is a side elevation of the instrument, showing a section thronfrh the galvanometer coils, and 
Fig. 2 a cross section sliowing the magnetic needle. The same letters refer to like parts in both fig- 
ures. A is the magnetic neeille attached to tliecircular mirror of silvered glass a, which is suspended 
by a thread of cuioon silk in the brass frame /i,'and adjusted by the screw 6, The frame slides into 
a vertical groove in the center of the coil which di\ ides it into two parts. The coil and mirror are 
enclosed in a glass case D, in order to prevent the disturbtince of the needle by cnrrents of air. The 
rays from the l:imp E pass through the opening /', which is adjustable by the slide G^ and passing 
through the lens .1/ in the tube jV are retlected by the mirror back through the lens ujion an ivory 
scale at / as shown by the dotted lines. 'J'he scale is liorizontal, extending to the right and left of 
the center of the instrument, the zero point being exactly opposite the lens. The luminous rays of 
light are brought to a sharp focus upon the scale by a sHiling adjustment of the lens. 

The operator reads the signals from a ]ioint just in the rear of the magnet and coils, the light of 
the lamp being cut off by the screen 1' so that he only sees the small luminous slit throrgh which 
the light enters the instrument, and a brilliantly defined image of the slit upon the white ivory scale 
iust aliove, which is kept in deep shadow by the screen Y. A very minute displacement of the magnet 
gives a verv larire movement of the ray of light on the scale /, the angular displacement of the 
r,iy of light being double that of the needle. 



it has ever since remained in perfect order, 
constituting the great channel of electrical 
communication between England and the 
continent. The success of that form of 
cable having been thus completely estab- 
lished, lines of a similar character were sub- 
sequently laid in all quarters of the world. 



Tlie external protection consists of ten 
steel wires, each wire surrounded separately 
with five strands of tarred Manilla hemp 
and the whole laid spirally round the core, 
which latter is padded with tanned jute 
yarn. Each cable would bear eleven knots 
of itself in water without breaking. 



312 



TELEGRAPHS THEIR ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 



The deepest water encountered was 2,400 
fathoms, and the distance between Valen- 
tia and Hearts Content 1G70 knots. The 
len<;th of the cables of 18G5— 1S9G knots; 
1860 — 1858 knots. 

The battery employed upon the Atlantic 
cables is a modification of Daniell's. 12 
cells are sufficient for signaling. The re- 
ceiving instrument is Thomson's Reflecting 
Galvanometer. This consists of a needle 
formed of a piece of watch spring three- 
eighths of an inch in length. The needle is 
suspended by a thread of cocoon-silk without 
torsion. The needle lies in the centre of 
an exceedingly delicate galvanometer coil. 
A circular mirror of silvered glass is fixed 
to the needle, and reflects at right angles to 
it in the plane of its motion. It is so curved 
that when the light of a lamp is thrown 
through a fine slit on it, the image of the 
slit is reflected on a scale about three feet 
off, placed a little above the front of the 
flame. Deflections to the extent of half an 
inch along any part of the scale are sufficient 
for one signal. In so delicate an instru- 
ment, the sluggish swing of the needle in 
finally settling into any position would de- 
stroy it susefulness. To rectify this, a strong 
magnet, about eight inches long, and bent 
concave to the instrument, is made to slide 
up and down a rod jilaced in the line of the 
suspending thread above the instrument. 
This magnet can be easily shifted as neces- 
sity may require. The oscillations of the 
needle due to itself are, by the aid of the 
strong magnet, made so sudden and short as 
only to broaden the spot of light. The 
delicacy of even this exceedingly delicate 
galvanometer can be immensely increased 
by using an astatic needle. 

The alphabet is made by opposite move- 
ments produced by one or other of two 
Morse keys. The signals need not be made 
from zero as a starting point. The eye 
can easily distinguish, at any point in the 
scale to which the spot of light may be de- 
flected, the beginning and the end of a sig- 
nal, and when its motion is caused by the 
proper action of the needle or by currents. 
It is thus that the mirror galvanometer is 
adapted to cable signaling, not only by its 
extreme delicacy, but also l)y its quickness. 
The deflections of the spot of light have 
been ajitly comjiared to a handwriting no 
one letter of which is distinctly formed, but 
yet is quite intelligible to the practised eye. 
Signals in this way follow each other with 



wonderful rapidity. A low speed — some 
eight words a minute — is adopted for public 
messages ; but when the clerks communicate 
with each other, as high a speed as eighteen 
or twenty words is attained. In fact, it is 
said, that the only limit is the power of 
reading, not transmitting signals. As it is 
the speed of signaling is equal to, if not 
greater than, that attained on any land line 
of the same length, an achievement indica- 
tive of the skill and genius that have been 
directed to Atlantic telegraphy. 

Telegraphic stations must be united by 
one insulated wire, either carried overland, 
or under the sea. The insulation of land 
lines is insured by attaching the wires to in- 
sulators fixed on posts some twenty feet 
high. The posts are placed at distances of 
about sixty yards apart. Insulators are of 
all shapes and many materials. The insu- 
lator most generally used in the United 
States is made of glass, and is supported by 
a wooden pin. The leakage in a long line, 
notwithstanding the best insulation, is con- 
siderable. The loss at each post is insignifi- 
cant, but when hundreds or thousands are 
taken into account it becomes decided ; so 
that in extremely wet weather in some cases 
merely a fraction of the total current that 
sets out reaches the earth at the distant 
station. 

The wire most employed for land lines in 
the United States is No. 9 galvanized iron 
wire, although there is considerable of No. 
8, and a few thousand miles of No. 7 and 
6 in use. 

But a little more than a quarter of a cen- 
tury has elapsed since the electric telegraph 
was introduced to the public as a practical 
means of communicating intelligence. The 
first line constructed in the United States 
was put in operation in the month of June, 
1844, between Washington and Baltimore. 
Up to this time the electric telegraph had 
been regarded only as a curious theoretical 
science without practical application. 

As far back as 1834, Messrs. Gauss and 
Weber constructed a line of telegraph over 
the houses and steeples of Gottingen, using 
galvanic electricity and the phenomenon of 
magnetic induction as a motor. The slow 
oscillations of magnetic bars, caused by the 
passage of electric currents, and observed 
through a telescope furnished the signals for 
corresponding, but the operation was com- 
plicated, slow and inefficient. In 1837, M. 
Steinheil established a line of telegraph be- 



TELEGRAPHS — THEIR ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 



313 



tween Munich and Bogenhausen, a distance 
of twelve miles; and in 1838, Professor 
Wheatstone constructed a line between 
London and Birmingham, but the apparatus 
employed by each was crude and unsatisfac- 
tory, and it was not until Professor Morse 
perfected his simple and reliable system, 
that the electric telegraph became of practi- 
cal utility. 



make them a present of a hundred dollars, 
l)ut that he would not have his name asso- 
ciated as a stockholder in so wild and chime- 
rical a scheme. After the line was com- 
pleted, this incorrigible skeptic was amongst 
the first and best patrons of the company. 

As a natural consequence of the distrust 
of capitalists, and the great difficulty of rais- 
ing funds for properly building the lines. 




STOCK REPOnXING A^•D PRIVATE LINE TELEGRAPH 



During the first few years after the intro- 
duction of the electric telegraph its progress 
was very slow. Capitalists were afraid to 
invest in an undertaking so novel and pre- 
carious. When one of the most distin- 
guished financiers of New York was asked 
by the projectors to subscribe towards the 
construction of the first line from Baltimore 
to New York, he replied that he would 



they were constructed in a very unreliable 
manner and breaks and interruptions was 
rather the normal condition of the wires 
than the exception. 

At the commencement of 1848, the length 
of telegraph wire in operation in this coun- 
try was about 3,000 miles. At the present 
time there are not less than 150,000 miles 
in successftd operation within the limits of 



314 



TELEGRAPHS THEIR ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 



the United States, having over 5,0<M) sta- 
tions and employing upwards of 10,000 
operators and clerks. The gross receipts 
of the various telegraph companies in this 
country amounts to upwards of $'j,00(),()00 
per annum, while the aggregate capital em- 
ployed is more than $60,000,000. 

The various uses to which the telegra])h 
has been applied is almost innumerable. 
Amongst the most important of them may 
be mentioned its application to the running 
of trains on railroa(}s ; the giving of alarms 
of fire in our principal cities ; its employ- 
ment in scientific and astronomical observa- 
tions, and the transmission of weather re- 
ports. Within the jiast few years a new 
field of usefulness has been ©|)ened and ])ar- 
tially developed in the application of the 
telegraph to stock reporting and private line 
purposes, and in whicli it has already achieved 
a marked success, with ]iromise of becoming 
in the future a still more important br.anch 
of the business. The instruments used for 
this purpose print the dispatches in plain 
Roman letters without the aid of an operator 
at the receiving station. Through the aid 
of this apparatus stock and market quota- 
tions are recei\ed at the Exchanges, Bank- 
ing-houses and other places of public resort 
in the chief commercial cities of the United 
States at all hours of the day. This new 
enterprise, which was inaugurated in 186s, 
has become one of the most important fea- 
tures of the telegraphic business. 

In December, 1870, a general system of 
telegraphic money orders or transt\>rs was 
jnit into oj)eration in the Pacific States. 
The public demand for the use of facilities 
for telegraphic exchange had long been ap- 
parent, and had induced the authorization 
of a limited amount of business which was 
conducted with success and profit ; but the 
need was felt of a system which could be 
adopted generally, without bringing in at 
the same time new and serious risks. This 
object has now been attained, and arrange- 
ments have been made for opening money- 
order oflices in all parts of the country. 

Congress having, by joint resolution, au- 
thorized the Secretary of War to provide 
for taking Meteorological observations at 
various points in the United States and Ter- 
ritories, and for their transmission by tele- 
graph to stations on the Northern Lakes 
and Eastern .Seaboard, arrangements were 
made with the Western ITnion Telegraph 
Company for the performance of the tele- 



graphic service commencing on the first of 
November, 1870. Sixteen circuits are oc- 
cupied, embracing fifty-five stations, from 
which three daily reports are transmitted to 
A\"ashington, copies being also dropped at 
intermediate stations on each circuit, mak- 
ing an aggregate daily transmission of 20, OUO 
words. 

The synchronous transmission, three times 
per day, of meteorological observations from 
fifty-five stations embracing a territory cover- 
ing 2o degrees of Latitude and 55 degrees 
of Longitude is unparalleled in the history 
of the telegraph ; and the eminently suc- 
cessful manner in which this great under- 
taking has been performed, afibrds good 
evidence of the superior condition and o]iera- 
tion of the telegra])h lines in this country. 

On the first of October, I860, the West- 
ern Union Telegraph Com]5any, which 
operates lines in every State and Territory 
in the Union, adopted a new Air Line 
Tariff' for the transmission of message?, caus- 
ing an average reduction of about lo per 
cent, and on the first of January, 1870, in- 
augurated a new feature in telegraphy 
whereby messages could be received at and 
for all stations in the United States for 
transmission during the night and delivery 
the next d.ay at one half the usual tariff 
rates. 

In Eiu'ope the telegraphs, with the ex- 
ception of the submarine lines, are nearly all 
owned and controlled by the Governments, 
and in England, Belgium, and Switzerland, 
they are connected with the postal service. 
In continental Eurojie the annual expendi- 
tures for the telegraphic service exceed the 
receipts by about two millions of dtllars. 
In England the telegraphs were purchased 
by the Govei-nment in January, 1870. 
Since then the Government has expended 
about three million of dollars in excess of the 
receipts, but, as a portion of this expenditure 
is for new construction, it is uncertain how 
great the annual discrepancy will be. 

The progress of the electric telegraph 
within the past six years has been very great 
in every quarter of the globe. Uponthiscon- 
tinent the electric wire extends from the Gulf 
of the St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico, 
and from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. 
Three cables span the Atlantic Oceai , con- 
necting America with Europe, and another 
submerged in the Gulf Stream, unites us 
with the queen of the Antilles. Unbroken 
telegraphic communication exists between all 



TELEGRAPHS THEIE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 



315 



jiliices in America and all parts of Europe; 
■vvitli Tripoli and AJgeirs in Africa ; Cairo 
in pjgj'jit ; Teheran in Persia ; Jerusalem 
in Syria ; Bagdad and Nineveh, in Asiatic 
Turkey ; Bombay, Calcutta, and other im- 
portant cities in India; Hong-Kong and 
i"~haiighai in China; Irkoutsk, the capital 
(if Eastern Siberia ; Kiakhta on the borders 
of Oiina; Nagasaki in Japan; Havana and 
all important towns in Cuba, and to New 
AVestminster in British Columbia. But, 
liowe\er rapid the extension of the tele- 
grajih has been in the past, it is destined to 
ghow still greater advancement in the fu- 
ture. Neither the American nor the Euro- 
pean system has yet attained to its ultimate 
development. Submarine cables will shortly 
be laid connecting the United States with 
all the West Lidia Islands and with Mexico 
nnd South America. The telegraph is al- 
ready established in various parts of the lat- 
ter country, and in Brazil and Peru arrange- 
ments are now makin^ for largely extenduig 
them. The project of connecting Vera Cruz 
and New Orleans by a submarine cable is 
likely to be soon realized, while a line is 
now completed between New Orleans and 
the city of IVFexico. 

A direct line of telegraph under one con- 
trol and management has recently been es- 
tablished between London and India with 
extensions to Singapore and China, which 
will soon be continued to Australia. 

Europe possesses 450,000 miles of tele- 
grapliic wire and 13,000 stations ; America 
1 St i,()00 miles of wire and 6,000 stations ; 
India 1 4,000 miles of wire and 200 stations ; 
and Australia 10,000 miles of wire and 270 
stations ; and the extension throughout the 
world is now at the rate of 100,000 miles of 
wire per annum. There are in addition 
3U.00O miles of submarine telegraph wire 



now in successful operation, extending be- 
neath the Atlantic and German Oceans ; 
the Baltic, North, Mediterranean, Red, 
Arabian, Japan and China Seas ; the Per- 
sian Gulf; the Bay of Biscay, the Strait of 
Gibralter, and the Gulfs of Mexico and St. 
Lawrence. 

More than twenty thousand cities and 
^•illages are now linked in one continuous 
chain of telegraphic stations. The mysteri- 
ous wire with its subtle and invisible influ- 
ence traverses all civilized lands, and passes 
beneath oceans, seas, and rivers, bearing 
messages of business, friendship, and love, 
and constantly, silently, but powerfully con- 
tributing to the peace, happiness, and pros- 
perity of all mankind. 

Professor Morse, who was already past 
middle age when he conceived the idea of 
the electric telegraph on board of the packet 
ship Sully on her ever memorable passage 
ti-om Havre to New York, in 1832, and 
who was nearly three-score years of age 
when his first line was built, is still living 
with mind and bodj' unimpaired, and enjoy- 
ing at the age of four score the rich fruits of 
a harvest more abundant than than has ever 
fallen to the lot of any other man. The in- 
vention of Professor Morse, which although 
yet in its infancy, has already conferred in- 
estimable benefits upon the people of more 
than half the globe without having occa- 
sioned a pang of sorrow to a single human 
being. If he is to be entitled to be esteemed 
a benefactor who makes two blades of grass 
to grow where but one grew before, with 
what honors should we regard him through 
whom wars have been postponed and short- 
ened, peace promoted and extended, time 
annihilated and distance abolished, and all 
the highest and noblest faculties of man 
multiplied, extended, and enlarged. 



19* 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN IN AMERICA, 

FROM 1780 TO THE PRESENT TIME. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 

Horace Walpole says, in his " Anec- 
dotes of Painting in England" (writing in 
1762): " As our disputes and politics have 
travelled to America, is it not probable that 
poetry and painting, too, will revive amidst 
those extensive tracts, as they increase in 
opulence and empire, and where the stores 
of nature are so various, so magnificent, and 
so new?" 

These lines were penned, perchance, in 
grave prophetic faith, but it may be that 
they were only idle speculations— a play of 
fancy, meaning nothing. Certain it is, that 
were the critic ever so much in earnest, verv 
httle could he have expected the full and 
noble response which so short a period would 
make to his query. 

Little could he or any one have foreseen 
the rapid growth of these " extensive tracts" 
in population and in every phase of material 
life ; still less the wonderful strides which 
they have made in all branches of mechani- 
cal and industrial art ; and least of all, their 
achievements in the higher and .'esthetic arts 
of design. Little could he have dreamed 
that within a period seemingly insufficient 
for the construction even of the rude foun- 
dations of empire, our country would have 
reached that point of refinement and intellect- 
ual development which gives it, in ample store, 
its own literature and its own arts — both 
with a strong and peculiar individuality of 
character and life. 

The only artists in America in Walpole's 
time were a few strangers — Englishmen for 
the most part — who had wandered hither in 
quest of a fortune which their very humble 
talents had failed to win at home. They did 
little or nothing toward the development of 
the public taste, and left no works to honor 
the future ; though they may, perhaps, have 
served, in some measure, to open the path 
for the distinguished group of native paint- 



ers who, quickly succeeding them, fairly and 
surely lighted the lamp of art which now 
burns with such pure and ever-growing 
brightness. 

The earliest of these pioneers, whose name 
has been preserved, was John Watson, a 
native of Scotland. He crossed the seas 
and sot up his easel in Perth Amboy, in New 
Jersey, in the year 1715. In this little port, 
which was then thought destined to be what 
the city of New York is now — the commer- 
cial emporium of the country — Watson 
painted portraits, such as they were, through 
a long life. He appears to have had plenty 
of " sitters," and to have grown rich upon 
the fruits of well-employed industry ; but 
we can gather no intimations of the state of 
the popular taste at that time through the 
medium of his works, inasmuch as none of 
them now remain for our inspection. Wat- 
son was buried about the 22d of August, 
1768, in the old church-yard of his adopted 
village, at the venerable age of eighty-three 
years. 

Our next pioneer was John Smybert, a 
stronger man, much, than Watson, and one 
who, though he painted no pictures to be 
treasured in our galleries, yet left foot- 
prints of good incentive and example, 
which we may clearly trace beneath the sub- 
sequent march of greater gifts. Copley, 
though but thirteen years of age at the 
time of Smybert's death, confesses indebted- 
ness to him and his works. So also does 
Trumbull, who at one time painted in the 
apartments he had occupied, and in which 
many of his pictures still remained ; while 
Allston is thankful for the advantage he en- 
joyed in the permission to copy a head 
which Sm3'bert had executed after Vandyke. 
Smybert accompanied Bishop Berkeley to 
America in the year 1728, at the age of 
forty-two. Like Watson, he w.as a Scotch- 
man, and like him, again, he pursued his 
craft in the colonies with gratifying financial 
success. He lived in Boston in high public 



PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



317 



favor until 1751, leaving behind him many 
portraits of the distinguished characters of 
his time. 

Nathaniel Smybert, a son of John Smybert, 
followed his father's profession worthily in 
Boston for a short time, and, according to 
the opinion of cotemporary critics, gave 
promise of more than ordinary talents. No 
record of him remains beyond the meagre 
facts here mentioned, and the additional one 
that he died early. 

While the Smyberts were planting the 
seeds of art in Boston, there was in Phila- 
delphia a Mr. Williams, an Englishman, re- 
membered gratefully by West as the man 
who awakened his love of pictures by lend- 
ing him books and by showing him the first 
works in oil which he had ever looked upon. 
During the same period, Woolaston and 
Taylor were also in Philadelphia ; a ilr. 
Hesselius was at Annapolis in Maryland ; a 
Mr. Thcus in Charleston, and other laborers 
were in Virginia. 

Besides the foreign adventurers here 
spoken of, there were a few native artists 
scattered over the country during the ante- 
revolutionary period of our history. It is 
hardly desirable to recall even their names, 
or to add to our list of the yet earlier 
strangers ; since, despite the service their 
little light may have done, in the then deep 
darkness, not one of them all possessed 
more than the most moderate talent, and 
not one will bo remembered excepting in the 
way in which they are now so briefly re- 
ferred to — that is, in consideration of the 
initial times in which they chanced to live. 

The birth of American art was not in any 
portion of our colonial epoch, but singularly 
and felicitously enough, was in that day of 
happy augury when our country itself sprang 
into life, and started upon its conquering 
course of national development and power ; 
and with equal strangeness and equal felicity, 
the very beginning of our individual exis- 
tence as a people produced, on a sudden, full- 
grown artists of first-rate genius, as it did 
Minerva-born statesmen, soldiers, and phil- 
osophers. 

During the progress of our great revo- 
lutionary struggle with the mother land, and 
at the time of our successful emergence from 
that trial, Benjamin West, born in the forests 
of Pennsylvania, was reaching the highest 
honors in the art world of London, sur- 
passing all native competitors, becoming the 
successor of Reynolds in the presidental 



chair of the English Academy, and enjoy- 
ing the most distinguished consideration, 
the patronage, and the personal friendship of 
the very monarch against whom his country- 
men were waging angry war. 

It is, then, with Benjamin West, and with 
the birth of our country as an independent 
nation — about a hundred years since, ia 
1772 — that our story of American art prop- 
erly and prosperously begins. We shall, 
however, say but little of West, since the 
space that has been allotted to this subject 
does not afford room for an extended notice 
of any one. Though we maj- rightfully honor 
him as the father of American painters, and 
may write his name first on the long cata- 
logue of eminent laborers in the noble field 
of art which we now possess, yet, the fact 
that the greater part of his professional life 
was spent in England, and that his chief 
success was won there, places him, in one 
sense, among the painters of that country, 
rather than of this ; just as the life-long 
residence among us of a foreign-born artist 
may make him ours, instead of his own 
countrymen's. 

West was born in 1738, in Pennsylvania, 
as we have already said, near Springfield, 
Chester county. His parents were Quakers, 
and their habits of life, together with all 
surrounding circumstances, were such as to 
discourage rather than foster a predisposi- 
tion toward the study of art. The bent of 
the boy's mind was, nevertheless, earl}' and 
powerfully manifested. The sight of Wil- 
liams' pictures inflamed his youthful pre- 
dilections to such a degree that, in want of 
better pencils, he manufactured a supply 
from the stolen fur of his mother's favorite 
cat ; in waut of subjects, he, while yet a 
child, seized upon his infant sister sleeping, 
all unconscious, in her cradle ; and in want 
of pigments, he borrowed ochres of the Del- 
aware and Mohawk Indians, and indigo 
from the maternal laundry ! He studied 
after a while in Philadelphia, and subse- 
quently painted portraits in New York. At 
the age of twenty-one he went abroad, and 
after a tour through the art cities of the 
continent, he established himself in London, 
where he afterward chiefly resided, rising 
rapidly into popular favor, until, upon the 
death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, the first 
president of the Royal Academy, his posi- 
tion as the head of the English school was 
affirmed by the high honor of his election to 
the vacant chair. This distinguished position 



318 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN IN AMERICA. 



he filled with great dignity until his death, 
on the 11th of March, 18:^0, at the advanced 
age of nearly eighty-two years. 

West's fame was won chiefly in the noble 
field of historical painting — a department 
which his brother artists of America have 
not continued fittingly to cultivate ; though 
one in which they cannot, in due time, yet 
fail to distinguish themselves no less honor- 
ably than they have already done in land- 
scape and portraiture ; so rich and bound- 
less are the themes at their command, and 
growing with every passing year yet more 
beautiful and noble in aspect. 

Among the chief productions of his skil- 
ful and most industrious pencil, we may men- 
tion the Battles of the Hague and the 
Boyne ; the Death of General Wolfe ; the 
Return of Regulus to Carthage ; Agrippina 
Bearing the Ashes of Germanieus; the Young 
Hannibal Swearing Eternal Enmity to the 
Romans ; the Death of Epamiuondas ; the 
Death of Chevalier Bayard ; Penn's Treaty 
with the Indians ; Death on the Pale Horse ; 
and Christ Healing the Sick. Many of his 
works are now in America; among others, 
Death on the Pale Horse, wliich is in the 
galleries of the Pennsylvania Academy of 
Fine Arts in Philadelphia; and Christ Heal- 
ing the Sick, also in Philadelphia, in the 
Pennsylvania Hospital, to which it was given 
with noble generosity by the artist himself. 

In the same year in which West was born 
in Pennsylvania, John Singleton Copley, an- 
other distinguished man in the earlier days 
of American art, appeared in the city of 
Boston. The one, like the other, after follow- 
ing his profession at home for some time, 
went to London, and there continued to live 
and labor for the rest of liis days. The simul- 
taneous appearance of these two gifted men, 
at this early period of our country's progress, 
and in sections of the Union then so far sep- 
arated, was, as Cunningham says, when al- 
luding to the circumstance— most " note- 
worthy." Copley was occupied for the most 
part with portraits, though he made success- 
ful incursions at intervals into the domains 
of history. One of his best works in this 
department of the art, and that to which he 
first owed his fame, was the large canvas 
representing the Death of the Earl of Chat- 
ham. Copley died in 1815, five years earlier 
than his confrere, Benjamin West. Many 
of his pictures are now treasured in the gal- 
leries and in the private collections of Boston, 
and in other parts of the Union. Lord 



Lyndhurst, of England, was a son of this 
artist. 

In 1754, just sixteen years after the birth 
of West and Copley, Gilbert Stuart, of 
Rhode Island, came upon the stage, the ear- 
liest of that gifted line of portrait painters 
whose works have placed tliis branch of the 
art as high in America as in any part of the 
old world. Stuart, with Trumbull as a 
companion, studied under West in London, 
wlicre he afterward painted successfully, and 
in due time rose to great eminence. Unlike 
his distinguished predecessors, West and 
Copley, lie returned after a time, to his na- 
tive land, and after some years practice of 
his art in Philadelphia, Washington, and 
Boston, he died in the latter city in July, 
1828, in his seventy-fifth year. His name is 
f;miiliar to the public at large, through his 
great picture of Washington, which he re- 
peated for various societies and state legisla- 
tures, and which is spread over our land in 
every style of the graver's art. lie painted 
noble portraits of many other of the distin- 
guished people of his time — from presidents 
to private gentlemen. His works are cher- 
ished among us as master-pieces and models, 
exerting still, as they have ever done, a mark- 
ed influence upon the character of American 
portraiture. The especial characteristics of 
his style were a marvellous freedom and bold- 
ness of touch, a wonderful freshness and ful- 
ness of color, and a truth of character which 
placed the very soul of his sitter before you 
in the most striking individuality. " He 
seemed," says a cotemporary writer, " to 
dive into the thoughts of men — for they are 
made to rise and speak on the surface ;" 
and Sully is reported to have remarked of 
one of his portraits : " It is a living man 
looking directly at you /" 

Stuart was a man of eminent social dis- 
position and abilities, a famous wag and hu- 
morist, fond of a jest, and overflowing with 
anecdote. Innumerable amusing illustra- 
tions of this trait in liis character, sprinkle 
and enliven the recorded and remembered 
records of his life. 

Another pupil of West's, at this period, 
was Robert Fulton, who was born in Little 
Britain, in the county of Lancaster, Pa., in 
1765. Fulton commenced the practice of 
art in 1782, at the age of seventeen, but 
continued it only a few years, being more 
powerfully led toward those scientific studies 
to which his genius was, as the end proved, 
better adapted ; and from which sprang that 



PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



319 



glory of our time, the practical and perma- 
nent application of steam to navij;ation. 
Fulton's sliort career as an artist left no 
k'tjible mark ; what might have been liis 
achievements had he continued in the guild, 
we cannot sa_v, and are, indeed, careless 
to inquire, in view of his immortal labors 
otherwise. American art is willing to spare 
him, as it has since spared the illustrious 
Morse, to its graver sister. Science ; and is 
no less proud of the practical blessings he 
has bestowed upon his country, than it 
would be of the highest aesthetic success. 
Fulton died upon the 24th of February, 
1815. 

Next among the men of service and intluenee 
in the cause of art in America was William 
Punlap, who was born in Perth Amboy, N.J., 
February 19th, 1TC6, and who commenced 
the profession of portrait painter about 1782. 
Dunlap will be remembered as an artist more 
for his long life of reverent and persistent de- 
votion to the craft, and for the respect and 
estimation which his character gained for it, 
than for his success at the easel ; though he 
both attempted and achieved works which 
■were commended at a less brilliant period 
than the present. Ue was also an author of 
considerable ability. Among his works is a 
"History of the American Theatre," publish- 
ed in 1832, and another of the New Nether- 
lands, which appeared in 1840; a memoir 
of Charles Brockden Brown, and various 
plays of considerable interest. But the 
most important of his literary labors is the 
only record we possess of the early story of 
American art, an invaluable work under the 
circumstances, and one for which he will be 
ever remembered, although clumsily con- 
structed and injured by a most wearisome 
medley of irrelevant matter. In this " His- 
tory of the Arts of Design," Dunlap gives us 
his own biograpliy with great discursiveness 
and fulness, though with humble and char- 
acteristic reverence, exhibiting his own career 
as one to be shunned rather than followed. 
' I look back," he says in mournful reflec- 
tion, " upon a long life, with the persuasion 
that what is called misfortune in common 
parlance is caused generally by our own 
folly, ignorance, mistakes, or vices." To read 
his story as recorded in his " History of the 
Arts of Design," is to read a sad record of 
untoward circumstances, varied eti'ort, and 
ever-following failure ; but, withal, a praise- 
worthy and even exalted longing to be of use 
to his fellows and his country. His pictures 



were generally of a very ambitious character, 
scriptural themes on canvas twenty feet long. 
Among these productions of high art were 
Christ Rejected ; Bearing the Cross ; Cal- 
vary ; and Death on the Pale Horse ; the 
first of which was made up in part, and the 
last wholl)', from West's pictures of the same 
names. 

Besides thus remembering Dunlap for the 
art records which he has preserved with so 
much honesty and industry, and for what he 
would have done, and sought to lead others 
to do at the easel, he must be honored as 
one of the founders and the first vice-presi- 
dent of our leading art society, the National 
Academy of Design in New York. Dunlap 
died on the 28th of September, 1839. 

To the life and works of Colonel John 
Trumbull our early art owes great obliga- 
tions, though it is much the fashion at this 
day to disparage and deny his genius. Trum- 
bull's name is familiar to the people through 
his grand pictures of revolutionary story 
which decorate the walls of the national 
capitol. He was the son of the first gov- 
ernor Trumbull of Connecticut, and was 
born at Lebanon on the 6th of June, 1756. 
To high birth he added, through life, high 
character and learning, and great culture 
and dignity of manners. His early studies 
were, as was the case with all the artists 
of his time, pursued abroad and under Ben- 
jamin W^est. He entered the American 
amiy at the commencement of the Revolu- 
tion, and was an eye-witness of, and partici- 
pant in, some of its most stirring scenes, of 
which the subseijuent delineation won for 
him his fiime as a painter. The four large 
works executed for the government, are : 
the Declaration of Independence; the Sur- 
render of Cornwallis ; the Surrender of 
Burgoyne ; and Washington's Resignation. 
An appropriation of thirty-two thousand 
dollars was made for these pictures, be- 
sides which, the artist received considerable 
emolument from their public exhibition 
through the country. Among his other his- 
torical works may be mentioned the Battle 
of Bunker Hill ; the Death of General Mont- 
gomery ; Capture of the Hessians at Trenton ; 
and the Death of General Mercer at the 
Battle of Princeton. In addition, he exe- 
cuted various scriptural subjects, and many 
portraits, among which was a full-length of 
Washington, painted in 1792, in the artist's 
best days. A few years before his death, 
he presented his collected works to Yale 



320 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN IN AMERICA. 



College, upon the condition that they should 
be suitably housed, and that he should re- 
ceive an annuity of one thousand dollars. 
The college erected a gallery on its grounds 
in New Haven, where tlic pictures were 
placed, and where they now may be seen. 

Colonel Trumbull was president of the 
American Academy of Fine Arts, in New 
York, until that effete organization was su- 
perseded in 1826 by the establishment of 
the National Academy of Design. Trum- 
bull did not, at any period of his life, pos- 
sess much of that genial fellowship and social 
habit so characteristic of artists, and so es- 
sential to personal popularity in the profes- 
sion. He died in 1843, at the venerable age 
of eighty-seven years, leaving behind him a 
name unspotted, and a claim to distinguished 
remembrance in the history of art m America, 
despite all the faults of liis works, and how- 
ever much they have since been or yet may 
be surpassed. 

Charles W.Peale, born at Chesterton, on the 
eastern shore of Maryland, April ICth, 1741, 
was an active eolaborer with Trumbull and 
his fellows, but was not eminently successful 
at the easel. He was a man of versatile 
Ijifts, and at various times dabbled in all 
sorts of crafts. He made his brothers, sis- 
ters, sons, and daughters all artists. lie died 
in 1827, at the age of eighty-five years. 

John Vanderlyn was born in Kingston, in 
the state of New York, in October, 1776, 
where he died at the age of sevent3'-six 
years, in 1852. Aaron Burr was struck 
with liis boyish performances in art while 
he was a blacksmith's apprentice in liis na- 
tive village, and befriended him at the com- 
mencement of his career. At the age of 
twenty he made the foreign tour, so custom- 
ary at the time, studying in Paris and other 
cities of the continent of Europe. In the 
year 1817, the corporation of New York 
having given him the lease of the ground, 
he erected the building in the north-east cor- 
ner of the City Hall park in New York, 
afterward used as the Post Office, and always 
known as the Uotunda. Here he exhibited 
in succession a series of panoramas, the first 
seen in this country, of Paris, Athens, Mex- 
ico, and Versailles, with his own pictures — 
Marius, Ariadne, and other subjects. The 
unex]>ected cost of the building, and the 
resumption of the lease by the city before 
the artist had fairly tried his speculation, 
made it a matter of serious pecuniary loss 
to him. Among his chief pictures are the 



Landing of Columbus, which fills one of the 
panels of the rotunda of the Capitol in 
Washington — one of the pendants of those 
already mentioned by Trumbull ; his fine 
picture of Marius Musing over the Ruins of 
Carthage, painted in 1808; and his superb 
full-length figure of Ariadne, so beautifully 
engraved by L)urand ; portraits of Presidents 
Madison, Monroe, and Jackson ; of Calhoun, 
De Witt Clinton, and other distinguished 
men. He exerted a most healthy infiuence 
upon his fellow artists, and his works remain 
as models for future study. 

Edward G. Malbone was born in New- 
port, Rhode Island, in 1777, and died in 
Savannah, in May, 1807, in his thirty-second 
year. During his short life he won high 
reputation as a miniature painter ; and his 
works in this department are still preserved 
in various parts of the country as master- 
pieces of art. One of his most successful 
productions — a picture of three half-length fe- 
male figures, called The Hours — is now in the 
possession of the Athenteum in Providence. 

Rembrandt Peale, whose history belongs 
to this jieriod, though more recently deceased, 
was born of a family of artists in Penn- 
.sylvania, on the 22d of February, 1778. 
He was an active, earnest man in his time, 
and did much in the service of art, by his 
own works, and the incentive which his ex- 
ample gave to others. His [licture of Wash- 
ington, painted in the artist's boyhood, and 
afterward often repeated by him, is well 
known ; as also his grand work called the Court 
of Death. His long and honored career, 
whirh embraced nearly the whole pieriodof 
our art history, was closed on the 3d of Oc- 
tober, 1860. 

John Wesley Jar\'is, one of the most dis- 
tinguished portrait painters of this era, was 
born in England in 1780, and brought to 
America at the age of five years. He 
painted innumerable pictures, many of them 
of great merit ; and did good service as the 
instructor of Henry Inman, and other dis- 
tinguished artists. He was a man of emi- 
nently social disposition, with a great turn 
for Imnior — traits of character pleasant 
enough when well employed, but which he 
unhappily permitted to lead him into low and 
ruinous dissipation, which impaired his ar- 
tistic powers, and brought a life begun under 
the happiest promise to the dreariest end. 

Charles B. King, born in Newport, Rhode 
Island, 1785; Alvan Fisher, born in Need- 
ham, Massachusetts, 1792 ; AVilliam E. West, 



TAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



321 



aiiJ V.'illiam James Bennet, born in London, 
ITST, may be mentioned in tins part of our 
story as men of mark and influence in their 
day tliougU lliey k-t't no works behind them 
of great excellence. Mr. King, passed away, 
March 18. IStJl', in Washington, the National 
Capital, where he for many years virtually 
filled the fashionable position of court paint- 
er, preserving to posterity the likene-ses of 
presidents, ministers, statesmen, and the 
chiefs of tiie Indian deputations who came to 
see their great white father at the cajjital. 

The life of Thomas >Sully fills a delightful 
page in the liistory of American art. Born 
in England in June, 178o, he came hither 
at the age of nine years, struggled bravely 
through an indigent youth and a laborious 
manhood to a position of high honor and 
nsefu'.ness. He is still pursuing, at the age 
of 89, in Philadelphia, the profession which 
he has through many years so etl'cctually 
contributed to advance. His pictures are 
characterized by grace and beauty of feeling, 
and a daintiness and freshness of color well 
deserving of most careful study. He has 
painted many full-length pictures of dis- 
tinguished personages, among them one of 
Queen Victoria, which was exhibited with 
great success in all the Atlantic cities, and 
numerous fancy heads of great poetic beautv. 

Charles Fraser, born in Charleston. South 
Carolina, Aug. 20, 1782, and died there Oct. 
5, 18G0. was an esteemed a>sociate of the 
best men of the days of which we write. 
His works Lave materially advanced the 
standard of public taste in his native state. 
After obtaining a competency by the indus- 
trious pursuit of legal studies, ho beLjan the 
profession of artist in earnest at the age of 
tliirtj'-six. Following the successful lead of 
his friend Malbone, he turned his attention 
especially to miniature painting, in which 
style he executed a picture of Lafayette, 
and of nearly all of the prominent men of 
las region. An exhibition of his collected 
works in 1857, included 313 miniatures, 139 
landscapes, and other works in oil. 

Chester Harding, who passed away, April 
1, ISOti, was born in Conway, Mass., Sept. 
1st, 1792. His humble parentage sent 
him at first to farm work and chair-making. 
After the war of 1812, in which he served, 
be engaged in cabinet-making in Caledonia, 
New York. He subsequently went to the 
head waters of the Alleghany, and thence 
on a raft to Pittsburg, where he worked at 
house-painting; he returned homo through 



the forest, two hundred miles, on foot, with 
no guide but blazed trees. Again visiting 
tlio west with his family, he worked from 
sign painting into portraiture ; thenceforth 
gradually rising in his profession, until he 
numbered among his sitters such men as 
Madison, Monroe, Marshall, Wirt, Clay, 
Webster, Calhoun, and Allston, in America; 
and the dukes of Norfolk, Hamilton, and 
Sussex, Lord Aberdeen, and Samuel Rogers, 
in England. 

Washington Allston, one of the most il- 
lustrious of our artists, was a native of South 
Carolina, having been born on his father's 
plantation at Waccamaw, in that state, on the 
5th of November, 1779. He was a liigh- 
toned man, of poetic temperament and schol- 
arly tastes, and was eminent as a poet as 
well as an artist. He was a student of the 
Koyal Acadeni}- in London in 1801, and an 
exhibitor on the walls of that institution the 
following year. At this early period of his 
life he became an intimate friend of Cole- 
ridge and Thorwaldsen, West and Fuseli, 
and other distinguished men. In a second 
visit to Europe, about 1810, he exhibited 
his famous fiicture of the Dead Man Ke- 
vived, which is now in the Pennsylvania 
Academy at Philadelphia. F<jr this work a 
prize of 200 guineas was awarded to liim by 
the British Institution. His next consider- 
able works were: St. Peter Liberated by 
the Angel ; Uriel in the Sun, which was 
painted for the duke of Sutherland ; and 
Jacob's Dream. In 1818 he returned 
home, with his ])icture of Elijah in the 
Wilderness, which afterward went back to 
England. Within the next twelve years lie 
produced his Proiihet Jeremiah, recently pre- 
sented by Prof. Morse to the Art Museum of 
Yale College ; Saul and the Witch of Eudor ; 
Miriam Singing the Song of Triumph, and 
other justly celebrated works. Among his 
smaller pictures, the Valentine and Be- 
atrice, female ideal lieads, are remarkable 
for their power of expression and strength 
of color. In the studio in which he finally 
settled himself at Cambridge, he painted 
Spalatro's Vision of the Bloody Hand ; 
Rosalie ; and his grand unfinislied subject, 
Bclshazzar's Feast. In his early life he was 
an intimate friend of Washington Irving, 
whom he almost won over to his own studies, 
as the author's profession may have attracted 
him, for during his life he made frequent in- 
cursions into the literary arena, publishing 
in London, in 1813, a poem entitled "The 



322 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN IN AMERICA. 



Sylphs of the Season," and afterward the 
metrical satire entitled, " The Two Painters," 
the weird story of the " Paint Kinjj," " Mo- 
naldi, a Tale of Passion in Ital_y," followed 
after his death b}' a volume of "Lectures on 
Art." He was twice married, first in 1809 
to a sister of Dr. Clianninj;, and arjain in 
1830. He died at Cambrid'o-e on the 9th of 
July, 1843. 

Thomas Birch, a marine painter, born in 
London 1779, died in Philadelphia Jan. 1851, 
and Joshua Shaw, a land.-^cape painter, born 

in England in 177G, died . Both 

became residents of the United States in 
childhood, and gained a reputation in their 
respective departments. 

Among the popular painters of this time 
were Samuel L. AValdo (1783-18G1), and 
"William Jewett, 179.3. Mr. Jewett was a 
l)uj>il and afterwards a partner of Mr. AValdo, 
and the two painted many portraits together, 
of great merit. 

Our narrative now passes the line, as nearly 
as such a line may be drawn, between the 
artists of the revolutionary and iminediatoly 
following years, and the earlier part of the 
present century. Already have we seen the 
arts firmly rooted in the love of the people 
and tlic genius of their professors ; seen na- 
tive artists grow up, and by their labors re- 
flect high and imperishable honor on their 
countr}'. In the continuation and the sequel 
of our history it will be our pleasure to see 
this glory ever brightening, and the public 
taste and artistic skill still more rapidly ad- 
vancing hand in hand. This progress can- 
not, hiiwever, be better understood than by 
following, step by step, the lives of those 
from whose genius and works it alone springs. 
We therefore continue as we liave begun, 
the chronological mention of the men to 
whom we are the most indebted for it. 

We have already seen how our country 
had no sooner come of age than its early in- 
debtedness to the mother-land for the hum- 
ble aid of her Smybert and others, was 
promptly and nobly repaid by the fame 
which we sent her of a West and a Copley. 
Not content with this ample acknowledg- 
ment, we added to these high names at a 
later day those of Leslie and Newton, which 
she has inscribed upon the brightest tablet 
of her art achievement. Both these emi- 
nent artists were Americans by their parent- 
age, though, through the chances of the mo- 
ment, the former first saw the light in Lon- 
don. The latter was born in Halifax, in 



No^•a Scotia, during a temporary visit of liis 
parents thither from Boston. They estab- 
lished themselves in London, where they 
passed their lives in such successful labors 
as to lea\c a name and lame cherished zeal- 
ously both by their native and their adopted 
homes. 

Some of the men most distinguished and 
the most serviceable m the cause of art in 
America who came upon the stage at or near 
the beginning of the jiresent century, are 
yet living to see the happy fruits of their 
toil, in the general diffusion of an ap])recia- 
tive and enduring love of art throughout the 
land, in the growing up of a community of 
artists, large and influential enough to have 
become an acknowledged and re\ei'ed power 
in society, and in the firm foundation of a 
strongly individualized and healthful national 
school. 

Among these great men, we should, per- 
haps, mention the la'e Samuel Findley 
Breese Morse, to whom (though he was drawn 
out of the profession as Fulton was before 
him, by the allurements of science) we owe 
much for the excellent labors of his pencil 
and the yet more excellent eft'ects of his 
earnest sympathy with his art brethren 
throughout his long and illustrious life. It 
is to this strong and indefatigable love that 
wo are, more than to any other agency, in- 
debted for the foundation and success of our 
chief art society, the National Academy of 
Design. Morse was the leading spirit in 
this great enterprise. He was its first'presi- 
dcnt ; an oiiico which he continued to fill 
with high honor for a score of years, and 
which, only that other duties required him 
to resign, he would have filled to tiiis dav. 
I'rof. Morse was born in Charlestown, Mass., 
April 29th, 1791. His father was the fa- 
mous geographer, the Rev. Jedidiah Morse. 
He was educateil at Yale College under Dr. 
Dwight. In his twentieth year he went to 
England, and yet two years later successfully 
exhibited a largo picture of the Dying 
Hercules at the Royal Academy. He liad 
previously executed a plaster model of the 
Hercules, wdiich he also displa3'ed, and for 
which, greatly to his own surprise, he re- 
ceived the riohl medal fmm the Soc'iet}' of 
Arts. Prom this happy commencement of 
his life as an artist, and from the portraits 
and other works which he subsequently pro- 
duced, until other studies drew his mind 
away from the easel, we may fairly suppose 
that he would ha\'C reached the highest posi' 




GENTI-EMB.V ENRAGED IN" THE FINE ARTS. 




WOXIES LN'GAGED IN THE Fl'S^ AUTi. 



PAIXTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



323 



tion as a painter had ho continued to seek 
it, and some rejrret at his loss to the arts 
may be permitted, even in view of what tlic 
world at large owes to his scientific studies 
in the priceless gift of the JIagnetic Tele- 
graph. Professor Morse died in New York, 
April 2, 1872. 

Charles C. Ingham, an eminent portrait 
painter, born in Dublin, 1797, died in New 
York, Dec. 10, 18G3. He was an earnest 
co-laborer with IMorse in the establishment 
of our National Academy, which has always 
owed and still owes much in its exhibitions 
to the productions of his easel — his exquis- 
ite pictures of fair women and brave men. 
He filled for some years the office of vice- 
president of the academy. 

Robert W. Weir, who has been for many 
years, as now, professor of drawing at the 
Military Academy at West Point, holds a 
distinguished place among the older of our 
living ai'tists. He was born on the 18tli of 
January. 1803, at New Kochelle, in the state 
of New York. It is to his pencil that we 
owe that best of the pictures in the Capitol 
at Washington, the Embarkation of the 
Pilgrims, a work eminently illustrative of 
the thoughtfulncss and conscientiousness of 
his genius. He has painted numerous liis- 
torical compositions, (/(ure subjects, laud- 
scapes, and portraits of great excellence. 

Thomas S. Ciunuiings, another of the 
founders of the Academy, and always one 
of its officers, held high rank at this period 
in the department of miniature painting. 
Mr. Cummirigs was born in Bath, England, 
in 1804, and became a resident of the United 
States in early childhood. 

John G. Chapman, born in Alexandria, 
Virginia, on the 11th of August, 1808, now 
residing in Italy, is well known as the paint- 
er of the Baptism of Pocahontas, in the 
Capitol at Washington, and as the author of 
innumerable designs in our illustrated books. 

AVilliara S. Mount, born in Setauket, 
L. I., Nov. 1807, died there, Nov.19, 18(;8, 
was the first American artist who achieved 
success in subjects of a purely national 
character, in a series of pictures of the hum- 
bler features of our country life. His Bar- 
gaining for a Horse, Haymaker's Dance, tlie 
Power of Music, and other light themes, 
have been often engraved, and are familiar 
to everybody. 

Francis W. Edmonds, born 1806, died 
1860, produced many pleasant j)ictures in the 
same vein of quiet humor with Mount. 



Wiliam Page, born in Albany, Jan. 23, 
1811, has distinguished himself, at home and 
abroad, in the field of portraiture. He 
painted, also, many excellent classic themes, 
among them two Venuses, which were great- 
ly admired. JNIr. Page has been President 
of the Academy since Ma}', 1871. 

Henry Inman, born in Utica, N. Y., Oct. 
20, 1801, died Jan. 17, 1846, was one of the 
most eminent of American artists. He was 
a pu]iil of Jarvis, whom he soon surpassed, 
excellent as Jarvis was. He was a man of 
remarkalile versatility, and worked with 
equal focdity in portraiture, landscape, and 
history. He was a guest of Wordsworth, 
during a visit to England in 1844, at whii h 
lime he painted a characteristic picture of 
the great poet, and that charming illustra- 
tion of the scenery of his region, the Kydal 
Water. While in England, he ]iainted, also, 
portraits of Dr. Chalmers, Maeaulay, and 
other eminent people. The exhibition which 
was made, after his death, of his works, was 
one of the most interesting and varied ever 
seen in New York. 

With the advent of Aslicr Brown Durnnd 
as a landscajie painter, about 1828, begins 
the development of high art in the depart- 
ment of landscape ])ainting in this country. 
The few artists who had attenqiti.'d land- 
scapes before him, had drawn, not from na- 
ture so much as from those conventional 
rules which, both in Europe and America, 
had supplanted nature. IMr. Durand, already 
a skilful artist, had from the beginning gone 
to the forest, the mountain, the lake, and the 
glen, for his inspiration, and liis one thought 
was to I'eproduce in all its beauty of form, 
position, variety, and color, nature as its per- 
fection gladdened his eyes. Mr. Durand 
was born in Jetferson, N. J., Aug. 21, 1796. 
His father was a watchmaker and in a small 
way an engraver of cyphers, coats of arms, 
and designs upon silver and gold. The son 
had from early childhood an insatiable taste 
for the arts ot design, and when a mere lad, 
was remarkable for the felicity of his designs 
for the iilate, &c., of his father's customers, 
and for his deftness and skill in transferring 
them to the metal. He had also trieil his 
hand at engraving and printing watch pa- 
pers and other little sketches which he traced 
on thin sheets of copjier hammered out from 
spare pennies. He acquired a very thorough 
knowledgeof every branch of the engraver's 
art under Mr. Maverick, whose partner he 
afterwards became, and attained the reputa- 



324 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN IS A.iIERICA. 



tion of being the finest enjrraver of the New 
"World, and the peer of the best in Europe, 
by his engraving of Vanderlyn's '"Ariadne," 
before he had gained any considerable repu 
tation as a painter. He had been, however, 
for years secretly trying his powers as a 
painter, before he had the courage to show 
his pictures to any one. He was thirty 
years old when he exhibited his first paint- 
ing — a portrait of his cliild — at the Academy, 
bat from that time forward, the exhibition of 
each year always contained one or two of 
them, and his truthfiilness to nature, the 
care and fidelity of his drawing, and his ex- 
quisite taste in color, have made his pictures 
a perpetual delight. In 1844, he was chosen 
vice-president, and in 1845 president of the 
National Academy, and was reelected each 
year till 1861, when he declined in order to 
bring about the reelection of Prof, ilorse. 
Though now (1872) in his 76th year. Air. 
Durand is still active as ever, and paints as 
well as he did thirty years ago. His land 
scapes are widely known and highly prized. 

Thomas Cole, bom in England, Feb. 1. 
1801, died in CatskOl. N. Y., Feb. 11, 1848. 
was the associate and intimate friend of 
Dorand, till his death, a'l too soon, severed 
the ties that bound them together. He came 
to this country at the age of eighteen, and 
though for some years of his early profes- 
sional career he had to struggle with poverty 
and hardships, yet he soon received from 
Durand, Trumbull, and Dunlap that cordial 
recognition and encouragement which ena- 
bled him to triumph over all diiiiculties. His 
tastes in landscape, though equally true to 
nature with Durand 's, were attracted to a 
diiferent phase of her manv-sided glories. 
Durand was essentially a painter of nature 
in repose and quiet. The gentle grass cov- 
ered slopes, the drowsy forests at noon tide, 
the calm lake whose placid bosom reflects 
the foliage of the Mils, the gently flowing 
river, the meadows covered with klne. were 
the suhjecta in which Durand has always 
deUghted. Cole, on the contrary, preferred 
to depict the mountains riven bv earth- 
quakes, the varied hues of the storm cloud, 
the fierce torrent and cataract, and the 
waters lashed into fury by the mighty wind. 
If he painted the forest, it must be when the 
Frost Kinjt had decked it in its gorgeous 
parti-colored hues. 

"Without losing at any time his fondness 
for nattire, his poetic temperament led him 



to embody it in those grand allegorical pic. 
tures, in which he has combined perfect 
fidehty to the great truths of nature with a 
higher and sublimer significance, as in his 
series of the " Rise, Progress, and Fall of 
Empire," his beautiful epic of the " Voyage 
of Life," and his not quite finished group, 
- The Cross and the "\\'orid." 

Though cut off in his prime. Cole has left 
a reputation which in some respects has 
never been surpassed in this comitry. Thos. 
Doughty, the third of the tno of our found- 
ers of the American School of landscape 
art, (bom in Philadelphia July 19, 1793, and 
died in New York, July 24, 1856) was not 
the peer of either Durand or Cole. The 
influence of tlie old anventional school 
which thought nature needed to be unproved 
before she was presentable, and perhaps, too, 
the lack of that lofiy genius which enabh d 
the others to overleap conventional ruks, 
kept him in bondage throughout his career. 
Still his landscapes possess a large measure 
of poetic beauty. He did not enter on his 
profession till he was nearly twenty-eight 
years of age^ 

Daniel Huntington, bom in New York, 
Oct. 14, 1816, a pupil of Morse, and Elliott, 
IS one of the most versatile and accomplL-hed 
of American artists. He has painted, and 
witli eminent success in every case, portraits, 
historical, allegorical, and genre pieces, and 
landscapes of wonderful beauty. His "Mer- 
cv's Dream."' '• Christiana and her Children," 
""The Shepherd's Boy." " The Marys at the 
Sepulchre," " The Good Samaritan." " Icha- 
bod Crane and Katrina Van Tassel," " The 
Republican Court." Chocnrua Peak," " Sow- 
ing the Word." and his numerous portraits 
of the highest style of art, all give evidence 
of the great scope of his powers. Mr. 
Huntington was President of the National 
Academy fi-om 1862 to 1870. 

Charles Loring Elliott, bom in Scipio, N. 
Y.. in Dee. I8l2, died at Albany, Aug. 2.i. 
1868, was for more than twenty years be- 
fore his death regarded as the most eminent 
portrait painter in this coimtry, succeeding 
almost without any interval to the grtat 
reputation of Inman. Some of his male 
heads have never been surpassed in vigor 
and thorough souhuluess. 

George A. Baker, of New York, is eqtially 
distinguished for his heads of women and 
children. Henry Peters Gray, bom in New 
York in 1819, holds a high position as a 



PAIXTISG, SCULPTUllE, AND ESGRAVIXG. 



325 



painter of portraits, and of small pictures 
oi genre and history. His ''Pride of the 
Village," " Building of the Sliip," " Venus 
and Paris," etc., are admiraWe. Jlr. Gray 
was President of the Academy 1870-1871. 
Thomas P. Rossiter, bom in Sept. 1818, 
died in 1871, was a man of rare gifts in art, 
and had painted many large historical and 
scriptural pieces of great merit. Arthur F. 
Tait is particularly happy in pictures of 
game and sporting life, a branch successfully 

' followed by the late William Ranney. Thos. 
Hicks, born Oct 18, 1823, is among the 
most po|.ular of the present group of por- 
trait painters in New York. He completed 
in 18G5, a large picture of the authors of the 
United States. Edwin White's great pic- 
ture of" Washington Resigning his Commiss- 
ion," painted for the legislature of ^Maryland, | 
is a fair example of this artist's style and I 

i class of subjects. 

Emanuel Leutze, bom in Wurtemburs, 

] May 24, 1816, died in Washington, D. C., 
July 18. 18tj8, was, perhaps, the best of our 

I historical painters. From his loth to his [ 
28th year, he resided in Philadelphia, but 
then went abroad to study art, and remained i 
eighteen years. He returned to the Uni:ed | 
States in 1859, and painted many pictures 
on topics connected with American Revolu- 
tionary and later history. 

P. F. Rothermel, born July 8, 1817, of 
Philadelphia, is eminent in historical sub- 
jects. The Lanibdins, of Philadelphia, father 
and son, hold a distinguished place in the 
art, the elder as portrait painter, the latter 
as painter of poetical and dramatic scenes. 

F. O. C Darley has achieved a world- 
wiile fame, by his designs and book Ulustra- ' 
lions. Nothing can surpass, in beauty of 
conception, his charming outline drawings ' 
from Irviug's '• Rip \'an Winkle " and 
'• Sleepy Hollow," or his compositions from 
Judd's novel, '• Margaret." He has Ulus- ! 
trated a fine edition of Cooper's works in | 
thirty-two volumes, and Dickens' works in , 
fifty-six volumes, as well as numerous minor | 
works. John W. Ehninger has been most 
successful in the same walk with Darley, be- j 
sides which he has made many happy genre 
pictures in oil. E. D. E. Green is justly \ 
famous for the classic beauty of his female i 
heads ; J. T. Peele for his dainty pictures 
of childhood ; Rowse and Colyer for their 
charming heads in crayon ; W. J. Hays for 
his animal subjects ; Eastman Johnson for 1 



his domestii- passages of negro ai:d other 
humblt iife ; Healy and Lang for brilliant 
portraiture ; James Hamilton for marine 
views ; Wenzler and Stone for their female 
heads, and May in historical subjects. 

Among the eminent artists of a somewhat 
younger class, the first place as a landscape 
painter must, we think, be given to Frederic 
E. Church, horn at Hartford. May. 1826. 
A pupil of Tiiomas Cole, he has all his mas- 
ter's genius, with an equally careful industry 
in thoroughly finishing his work. Ilis " Ni- 
agara Falls " achieved for him the highest 
reputation, and his " Heart of the j\n(les," 
" Cotopaxi," •' Tlie Icebergs," and '' Rainy 
Season in the Tropics," have maintiiined it. 

J. F. Cropsey, bom in Staten Island, 
Feb. 1 8. 1 823, has also an excellent reputa- 
tion, both in Europe and America, as a land- 
scape artist. He resided in England from 
1856 to 1863. J. F. Kensett is a little old- 
er, having been bom in 1818. He was at 
first a bank note engraver. His first scenes 
and mountain views are greatly admired. 
L. R. 3Iignot, whose tropical atmospheres 
and vegetation are wonderfiiUy faithful, now 
resides abroad, as does F. R. Gignoux, a 
native of France, but resident for nearly 
thirty years in the United States, and first 
President of the Brooklyn Art Academy. 
His " Niagara by Moonlight," and '• Niaga- 
ra in Winter," are both very beautifid. 'Ihe 
Hart brothers, William and James JI., of 
Scotch birth, have won high fame by their 
landscapes. Albert Bierstadt has iirmortal- 
ized himself by his large paintings of Rocky 
Mountain Scenery, his views in the Yo- 
Semite, etc. He has a very high reputation 
abroad. Our list would be incomplete with- 
out the names of Gifibrd, Casilear, Hub- 
bard, Webber. Gay, Brown. Shattuck.Inness, 
Colman, and the lamented T. Buchanan Read. 

We pass now to a brief glance at the re- 
markable performance of our young land in 
the noble art of Sculpture, a peribrmance 
confessedly surpassed by no modern school. 

Sculpture, as the more costly art, and as 
the less intelligible to the popular eye, of 
course followed painting in its progress 
among us as elsewhere. The surprise is 
that it should have followed so speedily and 
with such grand strides. It is possible that 
this happy result may have sprung in a meas- 
ure from the circumstance that our first for- 
eign visitors and instructors in marble art 
were men of the highest genius, instead of 



326 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN IS AMERICA. 



tlic tliird-rate talent only whicli our early 
pa/ntcis brought to us. It is seldom amiss 
to make a good start, and nmch is saved 
where there is nothing left to be ?<»lcarned. 

One of our first heralds of the chisel ap- 
peared in 1791, when Ceracchi, an eminent 
Italian sculptor, arrived at I'hiladelpliia. lie 
was scarcely less celebrated as a revolution- 
ist than as an artist, and leaving France when 
the dangers there grew too thick around 
him, he marched over to the New World, 
with a scheme for building us a grand mar- 
ble monument to Libert}'. His project was 
submitted to Congress, which was then in 
session, but that body supposed that the 
public funds cimld be emph.iyed, at the mo- 
ment, more advantageously in tlie cause of 
Liberty, than in honoring lier with sculptured 
shrines. Wasliington, ho\ve\er, gave his 
personal assent to the idea, and headed a 
private subscription, by means of which it 
was hoped the required thirty thousand dol- 
lars could be procured. Not an inch, thougli, 
of the proposed hundred feet of stone ever 
rose from the ground. Instead of the mon- 
ument, the sculptor employed his chisel upon 
busts ; and, among others, executed fine por- 
traits of the commander-in-chief, of Alex- 
ander Hamilton, of Thomas Jefferson, Geo. 
Clinton, John Jav, and I'aul Jones. 

On retui'iiing to France, Ceracclii's red 
republicanism reappeared in a madder form 
than evei-, and ho plotted to take the hated 
life of Napoleon, then first consul, even in 
the sanctitv of his own studio, and while ho 
should be sitting for his bust. Ue was after- 
ward guillotined on a charge of complicity 
in the famous scheme of the " infernal ma- 
chine." 

Yet earlier than the time of Ceracchi's 
residence in the United States, Iloudon, a 
celebrated French sculptor, was invited to 
visit this country for the express purpose of 
perpetuating in marble the form and features 
of Washington. The result of his visit was 
the full-length statue which now adorns the 
vestibule of the Capitol at riichmond, in 
Virginia. The sculptor's leger.d on this 
work reads thus : " J^^uit par Houdon, Cito- 
yen Fran^ais, 1788." The Father of his 
country is here represented of life size, and 
in the military style of the Revolution. Tlic 
figure stands, resting on the right foot, hav- 
ing the left somewhat advanced, with the 
knee bent. The left hand rests on a bundle 
of fasecs, on which hang a military cloak and 
& small sword, a jjlough leaning near. 



Another noble statue of Washington, by 
Canova, adorned the Capitol of North Car- 
olina, at Raleigh, until that edifice was un- 
happily destroyed, and the statue with it, 
by fire, in 1831. 

Of our native sculptors, perhaps the first 
who gave indications of talent above the 
humblest mediocrity, was John Frasee, bom 
in Rockaway, in New Jersey, July 1 8th, 1 790. 
A bust which ho executed in 1824 of John 
Wells, now in Grace Church, in New York, 
was, says Dunlap in his " Arts of Design," 
the first portrait in marble ever attempted in 
the United States. Ceracchi's works were 
probably only modelled here, and were after- 
ward put into stone at home. Frasee made 
excellent busts of Chief Justice Marshall, of 
Daniel Webster, and others. "He had ad- 
vanced," adds Dunlap in 1834, "to a per- 
fection which leaves him without a rival at 
present in this country." To those who 
know any thing of our sculptors of this day 
we liardly need say, that Dunlap lived too 
long ago to witness the real beginning of its 
brilliant history, and that the talent of Frasee, 
excellent as it was,. did not even indicate the 
high r;mk the art now holds. 

Shol)al Vail Clevenger, who was born at 
Middleton, Ohio, in 1812, and died at sea in 
1843, left behind him admirable busts of 
Webster, Clay, Allston, Van Buren, and oth- 
ers. His carl}' death interrupted a progress 
which miu'lit have extended tiir toward the 
point whirh mir sculptors have since reached. 

In the year 1805, on the Cth of September, 
Iluratio Greenough was born in Boston, to 
fill a distinguished place in the annals of 
American sculpture. He received his earliest 
instruction fnun a resident French artist 
named Einon, and at the age of twenty went 
abroad. After modelling busts of John 
Quincy Adams, Chief Justice Marshall, and 
many others, he executed, at the order of 
Feuimore Cooper, the novelist, liis Chant- 
ing Cherubs, which was the first original 
group from the chisel of an American artist. 
This work was made in Florence, where he 
had permanently established his studio at 
this time. In 1831 he went to Paris to 
model the bust of Lafayette, and thencefor- 
ward received liberal commissions, especially 
from his countrymen abroad. 

Through the influence of his generous 
friend. Cooper, he received a commission 
fi-om Congress for the colossal statue of 
Washington, which now stands so grandly 
on the great lawn opposite the east front of 



PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



327 



the national Capitol. This work was com- 
pleted in 1843, after many j-ears of indus- 
trious toil. Amontj others of (j-reenougli's 
works at this period, were the Medora, 
commissioned hy Mi'. Robert Gilnior, of 
Baltnnore ; the Venus Victrix, in the Boston 
Athenajum ; and the Angel Abdiel. In 1856 
lie returned to the United States to superin- 
tend the placing at Washington of his group 
of the Eescue, symbolizing the triumph of 
civilization, which he had executed in fulfil- 
ment of an order from Congress. It is sup- 
posed that the vexatious delays in the arri- 
val of this work from Italy, together with 
the hurl^'-burly of American life, to which 
his long residence abroad liad unaccustomed 
him, contributed to induce the attack of 
brain fever, from the effects of which he 
died, December 18th, 1852. 

Greenough was educated at Harvard, and 
was a man of elegant attainments and accom- 
plished manners. lie was engaged in the 
delivery of a course of art lectures in Boston 
at the time of his last illness. An interest- 
ing memorial of Greenough was published 
by the poet Tuckerman in 1853. 

The first general and popular acknowledg- 
ment, at home and abroad, of our success in 
sculpture, was won for us by the genius of 
Hiram Powers, and dated from the time 
of the exhibition of his Greek Slave. Not 
that this is by any means the best per- 
formance our artists have reached — for other 
men have followed with yet greater works; 
and among these others, one, of whom wc 
shall speak, who has cast ott' the convention- 
alities of old art, and has, upon his own 
native soil, not that of Europe, gone beyond 
mere classic beauty, to the higher attainment 
of individual and national character and 
truth. Yet, as wc liave said, it was from 
the popular success of this statue of the 
Greek Slave that the world picked up and 
recognized the fact of the genius of Ameri- 
can sculptors. 

Powers is a native of Vermont; but, like 
most of our men of marble, resides and 
works abroad. He established himself long 
years ago in Florence, since which time wc 
do not know that he ha.s even visited his 
native land. He is an industrious worker, 
and has made innumerable busts, in additicin 
to his more ambitious ventures into the field 
of poetry and the imagination. It is, in- 
deed, in portraiture that his strength lies — 
with a temperament more practical than 
fanciful, and with a sympathy more with 



the real than with the ideal. His colossal 
figure of Eve, and his full-length statue 
of Calhoun, are preserved in South Carolina. 
In the lamented Crawford, who was bom 
in New York, March 22d, 1814, and who 
died in London, October 10th, 1857, we pos- 
sessed a man of stronger and nobler grasp 
than any of his predecessors; a man, who 
not only could have done great tilings had he 
lived, but who did tliem even without living 
to the full years of ripe experience. Craw- 
ford was a poor boy, and began his art life 
in the humble occupati(m of a wood-carver. 
At the age of nineteen lie was promoted to 
a place in the studio of Frasee and Launitz, 
in New York ; and, when about twenty-one, 
he went to Rome, and became a pupil of the 
Danish sculptor Thorwaldsen. Here he 
toiled so uureniittingly that he is said to 
have modelled no fewer than seventeen busts 
in the space of ten weeks, besides copying, in 
marble, the figure of Demosthenes in the 
Vatican. In 1839, when in his twenty-fifth 
year, he exhibited his Orpheus, with the 
warm congratulations of his master, Thor- 
waldsen, and other sculptors, and with the 
hearty approval of the public. From that 
period his fame continued to increase up to 
the hour of his untimely death. The Or- 
pheus — which is now in the Athenanim in 
Boston — was followed by numerous admira- 
ble subjects from classical and scriptural 
history. Among his greater and later works, 
was the remarkable statue, in bronze, of 
Beethoven, executed for the Boston Music 
Ilall ; and the completion of which, at the 
foundry in Munich, was celebrated by a mu- 
sical festival, at which the royal family of 
Bavaria, and a grand concourse of people, 
assisted. Afterward came the equestrian 
statue of Washington, which now adorns 
the Capitol hill at Richmond ; where it was 
placed by the patriotism and liberality of 
the people of Virginia. This great work 
was cast in bronze in Munich, and sent home 
in 1857. Its pedestal rests upon a star- 
shaped elevation, with six points, upon 
which statues of Jeft'erson, Henry, Lee, and 
other illustrious sons of Virginia are to be 
placed. He executed orders from Congress 
for various works for the new Capitol, some 
of the most successful of which were his 
designs for the pediment and the great 
bronze doors. His grandest effort is, per- 
haps, the model for the colossal statue of the 
Genius of America, which is to be cast in 
bronze, and placed upon the pinnacle of the 



328 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN IN AMERICA. 



Capitol dome. This statue represents a fe- 
male figure, fully draped, and posed with 
marvellous grace and dignity. During his 
brief career, Crawford finished more than 
sixty works, many of them of the grand size ; 
besides which, he left nearly as many 
sketches in plaster, and numerous designs, 
which liis assistants are to complete. In 
1844, he married Miss Louisa Ward, daugh- 
ter of the late Samuel Ward, of New York. 
Soon after his return from his last visit to 
his native land, in 1856, he was afflicted with 
a cancerous tumor on the brain, from the ef- 
fects of which he died, after ninny months 
of acute suffering, borne with heroic pa- 
tience. 

Uenry Kirke Brown, another of the most 
eminent of our American sculptors, was born 
at Leyden, ilassachusotts, in 1'814. lie 
began the study of portrait painting in 
Boston, when eighteen j'ears of age ; and 
afterward he became a railroad engineer in 
Illinois, much to the injury of his health, 
and at length repaired to Italy to pursue the 
grave art of the statuarj'. Among his more 
famous works, are the well-known marbles 
of Hope; the Pleiades; the Four Seasons; 
the bronze statue of De Witt Clinton 
at Greenwood Cemetery, and the noble 
equestrian stdtue of Washington, which 
stands in Union square in the city of New 
York. Most, if not all of these works, were 
executed in Brooklyn, New York ; though, 
of late years, the artist has established him- 
self in a pleasant cottage af Newburgh, on 
the Hudson. Brown's Washington was the 
first statue ever cast in bronze in this 
country. 

Palmer, who is, perhaps, the most popu- 
lar of American sculptors at the present 
day, was born in the interior of the state of 
New York. His noble character — no less 
personal than professional — is seen in all the 
interesting incidents of his career, from the 
humblest boyhood to his present high po- 
sition, social and artistic. In his younger 
days he toiled hard at the carpenter's craft ; 
afterward he rose to the dignity of a carver 
in wood, of models and moulds for stove 
and other iron castings ; and at length he 
became a cutter of cameos. He was a mar- 
ried man, with a young family growing up 
around liim, before he finally made that ven- 
ture in marble which has brought such 
high honor to himself and his country. 
His works are marked with singular sim- 
plicity, truth, and naturalness of treatment. 



and with a finish and delicacy of execution 
rarely obtained in obdurate stone. Among 
liis chief and best known productions, are 
the full-length, life-like figures of the In- 
dian Girl, and the White Captive ; the 
Moses, and many beautiful bas-reliefs and 
female heads, both portrait and ideal. An 
exhibition of his collected works was made 
a few j-cars ago, with great advantage to his 
own fame and fortune, and to the public 
pleasure and profit. 

Launt Thompson, a young pupil of the 
eminent sculptor above named, is pursuing 
his art in New York with a success which 
promises the most enviable results. 

Clark Mills, a sclf-cducatcd man, in the 
proper sense of the phrase, is known by his 
popular equestrian statues of Jackson and 
Washington, executed b}' the order of 
Congress, for the embellishment of the na- 
tional Capitol. 

Harriet llosmer, of Watertown, Mass., 
has achieved a fair fame in this ditlicult field 
of art. The approval which followed her 
first original work — a bust of Hesper — in- 
duced her father to send her to Rome, where 
she. has resided most of the time since 1852. 
She began her studies in the eternal city, 
as a pupil of Gibson, in 1852. Her first 
works abroad were the busts of Da|ihne and 
iledu-a, and a statue of OEnone. Afterward 
came the well-known reclining figure of 
Beatrice Cenci ; and, in 18.3o, tLe charming 
statue of Puck, and a pendant thereto, en- 
titled Will-o"lhc-Wisp. In 1859, she com- 
pleteil her statue of Zenobia in Chains. 

Of our other sculptors of great promise, 
four have passed away within a few years .• 
Benjainin Paul Akers who died May 21, 
1801 ; E. 8. Bartholomew, at Naples, 
Jlay 2, 1 858 ; and more recently Robert 
Ball Hughes, an Englishman by birth, 
wlio died in Boston, March 5, 18C8, and 
Robert E. Launitz, who died Dec. 2, 1870. 
Those most prominent beside those already 
named, are Randolpli Rogers, John Q. A. 
AVard, now vice-president of the National 
Academy, William \V. Story, Thomas Ball, 
John Rogers, whose groups have done so 
much to popularize sculpture, Ives, Stone, 
Mosier, Albert de Groot, and Gould, a young 
countryman of ours now occupying a studio 
in Florence. Mr. Gould has recently sent to 
this country .an ideal statue " The West 
Wind," which for its perfect embodiment 
of a poetic conception has no su|)erior 
in modern sculpture. Among others, a 









enpravinp:?, representing the Seasons, are from the Farmer's Almancu:, showing the An. 
engraving; tlie opposite page, engraved from sketches about Newport, R. I. by A. K 



The above 
derson style of engravi 
Jocelyn, illustrates the improvement in the art. 



332 



PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



young woman of color, Edmonia Lewis, are 
still climliing the heights that lead to fome. 

The love of pictures, so general among our 
people of all grades, has been greatly fos- 
tered and cultivated, of late years, by the 
universal ditfusion of engravings. Besides 
the best of this class of works, more acces- 
sible examples, in the form of book illustra- 
tions, and especially in illustrated inhgazines 
.and newspapers, have been scattered, through 
a cheap press, broadcast over the land, .and 
have penetrated its remotest corners, doing 
the labors of the missionary in the great 
cause of art. It is true that those heralds — 
the pictorial papers, at least — are not always 
the best possible teachers ; yet have they 
cleared the way for greater things to fol- 
low, and it is gratifying to know that they 
are themsehes every day reaching toward a 
higher standard. It would, indeed, be quite 
beyond the power of our mathematics, to 
cipher out the good effect upon the art 
progress of the nation, of even one of our 
best pictori.al ni.ag.azines, with the immense 
audience which they are wont to address; 
such a magazine, for example, as that of the 
Harpers — read, or at least seen, every month, 
by millions of people. 

This grand aggregate of the good influ- 
ence of the graver, is gained througli the 
agency, not of the ambitious steel-plate, bnt 
the humble wood-cut. Tlie art of work- 
ing on wood — which has thus of late be- 
come the chief medium of the engraver, and 
has almost superseded .all other mediums — 
has, though .an old art, so greatly improved 
during the eighty years life of our republic, 
that it nia}- fairly be said to have grown up 
with it, and in a great degree /ro;« it. 

The general demand among us for cheap 
■ art, and the general ability to buj', at least, 
such cheap art, obviously required the wood- 
cut ; and so the wood-cut — which had kept 
its humble place from a period even far 
beyond the invention of types — was brought 
from its obscurity, and made — in our own 
hands, as much as in those of any people — 
to fill its present exalted office. 

The art w.as, really, almost reinvented in 
America, and soon after the great Revolu- 
tion, when Dr. Anderson, in 1794, loft his 
materia medica, and set up in New York as 
a wood-engra\er. Anderson's first consider- 
able performance w.as the repetition, in a 
work called the " Looking-Glass," of some 
cuts by Bewick. Some of these pictures lie 
executed on type metal, and only a portion 



of them on the wood-block. For these he 
had to invent his own tools, and then manu- 
facture them. He continued to improve, 
and all through his professional career he 
contributed greatl}- to develop the resour- 
ces of the art, and to put it upon the track 
of its present mature power. In 1812, the 
art was introduced and successfully prac- 
tised in Boston by Abel Brown, and in 
Philadelphia by William Mason. 

About the year 1826, Mr. Adams entered 
the profession, and by his industry and 
skill gave it a great impetus toward the per- 
fection to which it has since been brought. 
The innumerable illustrations which he pro- 
duced in his superb pictorial edition of the 
Bible, published by the Harpers, called 
forth all the talent which the country pos- 
sessed in this direction, and exercised it to 
yet greater excellence. This great work 
served, .also, no doubt, to promote the popu- 
lar appreciation of the art, now so univer- 
sally m.anifested in the demand for illus- 
tr.ated books and pictorial papers of all 
kinds. From the time of Mr. Adams, the 
number of our engravers on wood has 
steadily and rapidly increased ; and so, too, 
has the quality of their work, until the 
present day shows us pictures on wood 
which are, in many respects — as in delicacy 
of finish, softness of te.xture, and vigor of 
expression — quite equal, if not superior to 
the best ex.amples of work on copper or steel. 
The greater cheapness of the wood-block ; 
its capacity of use, in printing with the 
type (which metal plates do not possess) ; 
and the case with which it may be dupli- 
cated by stereotyping or by electrotypiiig — 
have caused it to supersede copper and steel- 
plates in a great measure, except for very 
large and costly subjects, and for bank note 
engraving. The invention, in recent times, 
of Lowry's " ruling machine ;" of improv- 
ed methods of printing, as in the process 
called " overlaying," by means of which the 
nearer parts of the picture are made to re- 
ceive a stronger pressure than the more dis- 
tant portions ; and v.arious mech.anical aids — 
have contributed to the present wonderful 
perfection of the art among us. The coun- 
try now possesses a host of excellent wood 
engravers, who find full and remunerative 
employment. 

For the finer class of wood-engravings, 
box-wood (imported chiefly from Germany) 
is used ; while, for coarser and larger work, 
that of the pear-tree will answer, and some- 




FIUST M\P EXGR.WEIi IX THE UNITED STATES IX IIAISKD LETTERS. 




MM' <IF THE h'KESKNT TIME IN RAISED LETTERS. 




T?:^ 




THE ARTS OF DESIGN IN AMERICA. 



333 



times even tliat of the apple-tree, beech, and 
even mahogany and pine. The wood is cut 
across the ends of tlie fibre, of tlie thiclcncss 
of type ; and after being smoothly planed, 
a thin covering of white is rubbed over the 
surface ; after which the drawing to be en- 
gi'aved is made upon it with a lead pen- 
cil, or with India-ink, or both combined. 
The block is then cut away with the graver, 
in such manner as to leave the lines of the 
drawing all in rcUef, like type. On copper 
or steel, on the contrary, the drawing is stink 
into the plate, and is necessarily printed with 
greater slowness and care, and at a greater 
cost. In engravings printed in colors, a 
separate block is made for each tint. 

Copper-plate engraving is an art as old, 
almost, as xylography or wood-cutting. A 
picture upon this metal is preserved in Ger- 
many of as ancient a date as 14G1. Instead of 
the simple wooden blocks of other days, our 
cotton manufacturers now print their calicoes 
front copper plates of cylindrical form, by 
which improvement the fabrics are made in- 
finitely more beautiful and greatly cheaper. 
Most of the larger print-works employ skil- 
ful artists and engravers to produce their de- 
signs, paying them large salaries for their 
labors. In some establishments thousands 
of dollars are thus profitably expended each 
year. Copper-plate engraving, after reaching 
the highest degree of excellence, both at 
home and abroad, has, within the present 
century, given way in a great measure to 
the superior capacity of the steel plate, a 
capacity revealed to the world and developed 
in the highest degree by Jacob Perkins, of 
Newburyport, in Massaclinsetts. Wr. Per- 
kins, who began his experiments about 1805, 
may, indeed, almost be said to have invented 
steel engraving, since the metal had been 
used only once before his time, in an English 
print in Smith's "Topographical Illustrations 
of ^A'cstminster." Mr. I'erkins discovered 
the present invaluable processes by which 
the steel plate is so hardened after being 
engraved, that by the pressure upon it of 
other soft plates, the picture can be trans- 
ferred in relief and again repeated so as to 
duplicate the work to any extent. The first 
impression in relief, from which duplicates 
of the original engraving are made, is taken 
upon a soft steel cylinder by repeated roll- 
ings over the hardened plate. By this pro- 
cess any bank note vignettes can be trans- 
ferred, in combination, at will, from the sep- 
arate original plates to the steel cylinder, and 
20 * 



from that to other plates for the printer. 
The product is thus greatly cheapened, inas- 
much as all the pictures, the central vignette, 
the end scene or portrait, and the bottom or 
tail piece, usually put upon a bank note, can 
bo furnished for the cost of a special engrav- 
ing of one of them. Mr. Perkins' system 
is employed throughout England and the 
continent of Europe, no less than all over 
the United States. By it the art of bank 
note engraving has been so perfected among 
us that only the highest skill and the costliest 
machinery can now produce successful coun- 
terfeits. Nothing remained but to insure the 
hank note against the wonderful power of 
the art of photography, and this security our 
engravers and paper makejs have provided. 
In 1858-9 the principal bank note engravers 
of the country formed themselves into two 
associations, the American and the National 
Bank Note Companies, and in the early 
years of the National Banks, they prepared 
for the government the elaborate engravings 
of the National Bank Notes, as well as the 
simpler plates of tlie Legal Tender Notes. 
These notes and National Bank notes hav- 
ing now become the only bank circulation 
of the country, they are prepared liy the 
government. Among the succestful Ameri- 
can steel engravers of bank notes and other 
works, are Durand, Smillie, Cheney, Sar- 
tain, Danforth, Dick, Casilear, and Alfred 
Jones. Engraving on copper or steel is 
practiced in its most simple form, called 
line engraving, by covering the face of the 
polished metal with a thin surface of melted 
white wax ; on this the sketch is transferred by 
laying, face down, a tracing of the design in 
black lead pencil upon the wax, and subject- 
ing it to a heavy pressure ; the lines arc 
then seen distinctly upon the wax when the 
paper is removed. The workman then with 
a tine graver makes thelines through upon the 
metal ; after which the wax is melted oft' and 
the engraver proceeds to complete the work 
by cutting the lines to the proper depth and 
shade. The graver, when in use, is pressed 
forward, cutting a furrow and raising burrs 
on oacli side. The burr, pushed up by the 
graver in its progress, is removed by the 
scraper. Lines are softened by rubbing over 
with a smoothly pointed burnisher. In 
some instances the burrs made by the finest 
etching needles being allowed to remain, 
produce a pleasing ett'ect, seen in some of 
Rembrandt's engravings. The parallel lines 
that are sometimes required in series are 



334 



PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



cut by a ruling macliine. The fainter shades, 
too delicate for the graver, are scratched 
in with a needle. 

In the stippling or dotted st3de, the effect 
is produced by dots made in curved lines, 
with the graver. The more cIosel_v the dots 
arc grouped together, the darker the shade, 
and the whole effect is more like painting 
than the lino engraving. In the shadows of 
the limbs of the human figure it is much 
used, and sometimes in portraits the line and 
stipple are combined with good effort. 

The stj'Ie called etching is practised upon 
other metals, also upon glass. By this pro- 
cess the coating of wax is formed of white 
wax, Burgundy pitch, and asphaltum, and is 
applied in silk bags, through which the com- 
position oozes. Whonthe plate is covered it is 
held over a smokinglamp untilthe wax iscov- 
ered with lamp-blaok. The lead pencil design 
is then laid upon this lamp-black and pressed. 
The lines are then drawn through the wax, 
and nitric acid with four parts water 
is poured upon the plate. This remains 
until the fainter portions of the sketch 
are corroded. The acid is then poured off 
and the plate washed with water. An appli- 
cation of lamp-black and turpentine, calletl 
stopping, is applied with a camel's hair 
brush to those pjortions sufficiently corroded ; 
a reapplieation of the acid eats deeper into 
those parts that require deeper lines. This 
process of stopping is repeated until the 
work is complete. Being then cleaned of 
the wax, those portions of the plate that re- 
quire it are gone over with the graver, and 
not unfrequently the shades are stippled. 

Aquatinta is a French invention of 1662, 
and takes its name from tlie resemblance it 
lias to water colors on India-ink drawings. 
After the design is etched in outline and the 
wax removed, a solution of Burgundy pitch 
in alcohol is poured over the plate as it lies in 
an inclined position. The alcohol evaporat- 
ing, the pitch remains. The design is then 
draw'n with a gummy syrup called the burst- 
ing-ground, which is applied only wherever a 
shade is wanted. The whole is then covered 
with a turpentine varnish ; water being left 
on it for fifteen minutes, the bursting-ground 
cracks open and exposes the copper. The 
etching process is then pursued. Sometimes 
colors are applied .and printed from the plate ; 
but when there arc dift'ercnt tints, it is cus- 
tomary to use a distinct plate for each one. 

The mezzotinto, or lialf-paintcd styl-e, was 
introduced into England by I'rince liupert. 



The invention Las been ascribed to Sir Chris- 
topher Wren. The plate is roughed up by 
running over its surface little toothed wheels 
of different degrees of fineness, called cradles, 
which by a I'ocking motion arc caused to 
raise little burrs, pointing in different direc- 
tions. The whole plate being thus made 
rough, the burrs are rubbed off with scrapers, 
wherever light shades are required, and the 
shades are deepened by increasing the burrs. 
The effect is tine where dark grounds are 
desired. This method combined with etching, 
produces an improved style. Some mezzo- 
tints are now prepared for the trade by a 
machine. The prints wear much better on 
steel than on copper. 

Admirable examples of these branches of 
the art may be seen in the superb landscape 
works of Sinillie, especially those from the 
four pictures of Cole's Voyage of Life, in 
Durand's works after Vanderlyn's, in our 
many beautiful illustrated books, in the pub- 
lications of the late American Art Union, and, 
as alre;idy intimated, in the dainty vignettes 
which embellish our bank notes. 

In the art of die sinking — a process con- 
ducted in a similar manner to that already 
described of the transfer in relief of the im- 
pression from a hardened plate or plug of 
steel to a soft plate, and from that again, 
when hardened, to yet another — many admi- 
rable works have been produced. Excellent 
examples may be seen in the medals of AU- 
ston, Stuart, and other subjects executed for 
the American Art Union by the late C. C. 
Wright. 

By the assistance of the electrotype pro- 
cess, the work of the engraver is now rc])eat- 
cd, iu as many copies as may be desired, 
each of the copper transcripts thus produced 
being an absolute duplicate of the original 
plate or block. It is these eleetrotyped cop- 
ies which are now used by the printer, the 
same picture sometimes on several presses at 
once, while the original wood block is pre- 
served untouched, except to form the mould 
for other copies in metal when they may be 
required. The effect of tliis power of per- 
fect and inexpensive repetition of engraved 
blocks has been to reduce the cost of picto- 
rial illustrations to a point within the com- 
pass of the most unpretending purse, and 
thus to send good examples of the engraver's 
art to the remotest and humblest corners of 
the land. 

What may be the consequences of the 
many processes, now more or less perfected, 



THE ARTS OF DESIGN 1,V AMERICA. 



335 



for the ineclianical production of engraving 
by the aid of photography, it is hardly pos- 
sible to imiigine : not other than advantage- 
ous, however, even to the engravers them- 
selves, since their field of labor will be high- 
er, if not broader, when their pictures shall 
be, as they promise to be, not. only drawn 
for them on their plates and blocks by pho- 
tography, but even etched and engraved be- 
sides. 

In the art of lithography, or drawing upon 
stone, a steady advance may be witnessed ; 
though our works of this class cannot yet 
claim comparison with those of the conti- 
nent of Europe. 

The introduction of the daguerreotype, the 
perfection to which the art has been brought 
in the skilful hands of American operators, 
and the immense extent to which it is used 
among us, (apart from its share in the work 
of other arts), have had, no iloubt, a most 
wonderful influence upon our art progress. 
Furnishing pictures which are, through their 
cheapness, accessible to all classes, it has 
worked, like the engraving, as an elementary 
instructor, while its truthfulness has been a 
constant lesson to the artist himself Better 
pictures have, iniquestionably, been painted 
through the hints of the daguerreotj'pe and 
photogra]ih ; and many people who, but for 
them would never have dreamed of pictures, 
have become intelligent lovers and liberal 
jiatrons of the arts. 

The art of color printing is not very new, 
but it is only within a few years past that it 
has been brought to such perfection by the 
processes of chromo-lithography as to be 
able to reproduce paintings, within certain 
limitations of size and color, so exactly as to 
make it difficult to distinguish the copies from 
the original painting. The process has other 
limitations even than these ; it requires slow 
and careful, almost painful manipulation 
sometimes for months, and the printer mu-t 
be himself an artist, at least in his taste and 
his knowledge and skill in the blending of 
colors. He will even, at the best, meet with 
frequent failures ; but notwithstanding all 
these limiUitions, chromo-lithography, as 
now practiced by the best artists, is a boon 
to the woi'ld second only to the sun pictures. 
It has made it possiljle for persons of small 
means and but just develojiing taste for art, 
to obtain gems of art, every flay superior to 
the average copies of celebrated pictures, 
and thus awaken a love for the really beau- 



tiful which will grow until it makes the hum- 
ble purciiaser in time, a muuiticent patron 
of art. The process as now practised by 
Messrs.Colton, Zahm and Roberts, L. Prang 
& Co., E. Ketterlinus & Co., and others, re- 
quires a very searching and accurate analy- 
sis of the colors and combinations of color 
which will produce the required effect of the 
picture selected for copying, and then an 
accurate copy of the picture in outline hav- 
ing been made on stone it is printed first 
with a single uniform tint. Then by suc- 
cessive printings each time from a different 
stone, the colors and combinations are laid, 
on, the utmost care being taken to make the 
register perfect each time so as to give the 
perfect copy of the original without blurring 
or commingling the colors unduly. Between 
each printing ample time must be given for 
the pigments to dry and harden. After all 
the printings are done, the picture is var- 
nished and then embossed or subjected to 
pressure on a grained surface of stone or 
metal, by whicii process the glossy liglits are 
broken, the hard outlines softened, and the 
appearance of canvas is given to it. If all 
these steps have been properly taken, and 
guided by real artistic taste and knowledge, 
the picture once mounted and framed will 
have all the effect of the original. The cost 
of production, which is very considerable, is 
greatly reduced on each copy, from the fact 
that five hundred, one thousand, or more, 
can be printed from the same plates, and 
though there will be some defective copies, 
yet with proper care, the greater part will 
be perfect. 

We must not, in ever so cursory a glance 
at the history of the arts, forget the service 
of our academies and schools of painting, 
little as some affect to think of art academies 
— so far, at least, as their honorary charac- 
ter is concerned. 

The first attempt to found an institution 
of this natui-e in the United States, was 
made in Philadelphia, in 1791, by Charles 
Wilson Peale, the father of the painter, 
Rembrandt Peale. The elder Peale was a 
very energetic laborer in the cause of art, all 
through his long life. This first attempt of 
his to found an academy, was seconded by 
the Italian sculptor Ceracchi, who was in the 
country at the time. The attempt fiiiled, 
however, from some cause or other, and a 
second and rather more fortunate venture 
was made in 1704, when the Columbianum 



336 



PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ENGRAVING. 



was established. This society lived a year, 
held one exhibition, and was forgotten. 

In 1802, some art-loving citizens of New 
York, headed by Edward Livingston, found- 
ed the New York, afterward the American 
Academy of Fine Arts. There were so few 
artists in this society, and the governing in- 
fluence was so little of a jn'ofessional charac- 
ter, that it was an academy of art only in 
name, and quite failed in its office of an acad- 
emy. The necessary result was an inefficient 
life, until it was, in due time, superseded by 
a better organized establishment. This re- 
sult followed in 1826, in the institution of 
the present National Academy of Design. 

The National Academy, thus founded by 
Morse, and his brother artists of the period, 
has steadily advanced to this day in position 
and usefulness, and now numbers among its 
academicians and associates nearly all the 
leading painters of the land. Its annual ex- 
hibitions have been prepared, without inter- 
ruption, from 1826 until now, with a cata- 
logue of works extended gi'adually from less 
than two hundred, to over eight hundred, 
and with an aggregate of receipts from less 
than nothing up to six or seven thousand 
dollars annually. The academy has always 
supported free (evening) schools for the study 
of the antique statuary, and the living models ; 
schools, to which any student has access, 
when coming with the required preparatory 
knowledge of the use of the crayon. Mem- 
bership in the academy, except in the grade 
of " student," is awarded only to professional 
artists, and then by ballot, as a mark of hon- 
orary distinction. The progress of art in 
America during the last forty or fifty years 
cannot be better seen than in the continued 
growth of the National Academy, and in its 
present large and varied exhibitions as com- 
pared with those of days gone by. An art 
academy was founded in Brooklyn, N. Y., in 
1867, which is in a very flourishing condition. 

The Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts 
in Philadelphia is doing a good work, though 
it is not so fully an association of artists only 
as is the National Academy at New York. 



Conducted in part by laymen, it labors under 
some of the disadvantages of the old super- 
seded American Academy. It was founded 
as early as 1807, and is now a flourishing 
and most useful institution, keeping a valu- 
able permanent gallery always open to the 
puljlic view, and providing besides an annual 
display of the current jiroductions of our 
artists. It possesses also a fine collection of 
casts from the antique, gratuitously accessi- 
ble to all students. 

The art gallery of the Athenannn in Bos- 
ton, serves, in a measure, the purposes of an 
academy in that city. Of late years Acad- 
emies of Art have sprung up in some form, 
and with more or less success, in many other 
of our chief cities, as in Baltimore, Charles- 
ton, Brooklyn, Chicago, St. Louis, Cincin- 
nati, and elsewhere, giving us a fair prom- 
ise of picture galleries anil facilities for art 
study, as general and as liberal as our wants 
demand. 

Besides these institutions for the use of the 
profession itself, there is happily a rapid ex- 
tension throughout the Union of drawuig 
schools for all classes of the population. 
Professorships of drawing are being intro- 
duced into our universities and colleges, and 
a higher standard is being everywhere set 
up in our seminaries of all grades. Schools 
of Design for women are springing up in our 
larger cities, and such an institution has 
been in successful operation in connection 
with the Cooper Union of New York for 
thirteen or fourteen years past, under the 
highest promise of successful result. When 
the principles of art become universally 
known to us, as we have good cause to be- 
lieve they soon will be, we shall realize the 
fact not only in the increased excellence and 
fame of our pictures and our sculptures, but 
in the higher beauty, utility, and value of 
our manufactures and fabrics of all kinds, 
from the rarest luxury to the simplest article 
of necessary use. In another and less ma- 
terial sense wo shall feel it and enjoy it, in 
breathing the air of a more refined and more 
beautiful social and national life. 




^C£-)^i<i^ /^aAy?^ayi^/iLP' 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL mSTITUTIONS. 



CHAPTER I. 

EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE 
COLONIAL PERIOD. 

INTRODUCTION. 

, The origin, nomenclature, and early pe- 
culiarities of the systems, institutions, and 
metliods of instruction adopted in tlio origi- 
nal colonies, which now constitute a portion 
of the United States of America, will be 
found in the educational institutions and 
practices of the countries from which these 
colonies were settled — modified b}' the edu- 
cation, character, motives of emigration, and 
necessities of the settlers themselves. 

The earliest eftbrt to establish an education- 
al institution in the English dominions in 
America, was made under the auspices of 
King James I, and by contributions of mem- 
bers of the Church of England from 1618 to 
16-23. In a letter addressed to the Arch- 
bishops, he authorizes them to invite the 
members of the Church throughout the king- 
dom to assist "those undertakers of that 
Plantation [Virginia], with the erecting of 
some churches and schools for the education 
of the children of those barbarians" [the 
Aborigines] and of the colonists. Under 
these instructions, a sum of £1500 was col- 
lected for the erection of a building for a col- 
lege at Henrico — a town whose foundations, 
or site even, cannot now be certainly deter- 
mined, but which according to the best author- 
ities was situated near Varina on Cox's Island, 
about fifty miles above Jamestown. Author- 
ity was given by the Company to the Gov- 
ernor to set apart 10,000 acres of land for 
the support of the college, and one hun- 
dred colonists were sent from England to 
occupy and cultivate the same, who were to 
receive a moiety of the produce as the profit 
of their labor, and to pay the other moiety 
toward the maintenance of the college. In 
1620, George Thorpe was sent out as super- 
intendent, and 300 acres of land was set 
apart for his sustenance. Other donations 



and legacies were made for the endowment 
of this institution of learning. 

In 1619, the Governor for the time be- 
ing was instructed by the company to see 
■' that each town, borough, and hundred 
procured by just means a certain number 
of their children to be brought up in the 
first elements of literature ; that the most 
towardly of them should be fitted for college, 
in the building which they purposed to pro- 
ceed as soon as any profit arose from the 
estate appropriated to that use ; and they 
earnestly required their help in that pious 
and important work." In 1621,. Rev. Mr. 
Copeland, chaplain of the Royal James, on 
her arrival from the East Indies, prevailed 
on the ship's comjiany to subscribe £100 
toward a " free sohoole" in the colony of 
Virginia, and collected other donations in 
mouey and books for the same purpose. 
The school was located in Charles City, as 
being most central for the colony, and was 
called the " East India School." The com- 
pany allotted one thousand acres of land, with 
five servants and an overseer, for the mainten- 
ance of the master anil usher. The inhabitants 
made a contribution of £1 500 to build a house, 
for which workmen were sent out in 1622. 

The "college" and "free school" thus 
projected and partially endowed were in the 
style of the " college" and " free school" and 
the " free grammar school" of England, and 
were intended to be of the same character as 
the college afterward established at Cam- 
bridge, and the institution for which " the 
richer inhabitants" of Boston in 1G36 sub- 
scribed toward " the maintenance of a free 
schoolmaster," and the same as, according to 
Governor Winthrop, in his journal, was erect- 
ed in Roxbury in 1645, and other towns, and 
for which every inhabitant bound some 
house or land for a yearly allowance for- 
ever, and many benevolently disposed per- 
sons left legacies in their last wills, and the 
towns made " an allowance out of the com- 
mon stock," or set apart a portion of land 



338 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



"to be improved forever, for the maiuten" 
ance of a free schoole forever." 

The same leading idea can be traced in 
the educational policy of the Dutch West 
India Company — which bound itself, in re- 
ceiving its charter of colonization, "to main- 
tain good and fit preachers, schoolmasters, 
and comforters of the sick." The company 
recognized the authority of the established 
Church of Holland, and the establishment 
of schools and the appointment of school- 
masters rested conjointly with the company 
and the classis (ecclesiastical authorities) of 
Amsterdam. When the company granted 
a special " Charter of Freedom and Exemp- 
tions" to the " Patroons," for the purpose 
of agricultural colonization, they were not 
only to satisfy the Indians for the lands 
upon which they should settle, but were to 
make prompt provision for the support of 
a minister and schoolmaster, that thus the 
service of God and zeal for religion might not 
grow cold, and be neglected among them. 
In 1633, in the enumeration of the compa- 
ny's oflicials at Manhattan, Adam Koeland- 
sen is mentioned as the schoolmaster, and 
that school, it is claimed, is still in existence 
in connection with the Reformed Dutch 
Church of New York. In the projected 
settlement at New Amstel on the Delaware, 
the first settlers were encouraged to proceed 
by certain conditions, one of which was that 
the city of Amsterdam should send thither 
"a proper person for a schoolmaster;" and 
we find among the colonists who embarked, 
" Evert Pietersen, who had been approved, 
after examination before the classis, as school- 
master." In these early eflorts to establish 
schools, we trace the educational policy of 
the Reformed Church of Holland as indi- 
cated by the synod of Wesel in 1568, and 
matured at the synod of Dort in 1G18, by 
which the training of Christian youth w'as 
to be provided for — " I. Jn the house, by 
parents. II. In the schools, hy schoolmas- 
ters. III. In the churches, by ministers, 
elders, and the cateckists esjjccially ajjpoint- 
ed for this purpose.'''' Owing in part to the 
commercial purposes entertained by the 
companies having charge of the coloniza- 
tion of New York, Virginia, and some other 
portions of the country, and to the edu- 
cational and religious institutions of the 
colonists being not so much a matter of do- 
mestic as of foreign policy, these institu- 
tions never commanded the regular and 



constant attention of the local authorities, 
or of the settlers themselves. 

The outline and most of the essential feat- 
ures of the system of common schools now 
in operation in the New England states, and 
the states which have since avowedly adopt- 
ed the same policy, will be found in the 
practice of the first settlers of the several 
towns which composed the original colonies 
of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Now Ha- 
ven. The first law on the subject did but 
little more than declare tlie motive, and make 
more widcl)' obligatory the practice which 
already existed in the several neighborhoods 
and towns, which had grown up out of the ed- 
ucation of these colonists at home, and the cir- 
cumstances in which they were placed. They 
did not come here as isolated individuals, 
drawn together from widely separated homes,' 
entertaining broad dift'erences of opinion on 
all matters of civil and religious concernment, 
and kept together by the necessity of self- 
defence in the eager prosecution of some tem- 
porary but profitable adventure. They came 
after God had set them in tamilies, and they 
brought with tliem the best pledges of good 
behavior, in the relations which father and 
mother, husband and wife, parents and chil- 
dren, neighbors and friends, establish. They 
came with a foregone conclusion of perma- 
nence, and with all the elements of the social 
state combined in vigorous activity — every 
man expecting to find or make occupation 
in the way in which he had been already 
trained. They came with earnest religious 
convictions, made more earnest by the trials 
of persecution ; and the enjoyment of these 
convictions was a leading motive in their 
emigration hither. The fundamental articles 
of their religious creed, that the Bible was 
the only authoritative expression of the di- 
vine will, and that ever}' man was able to 
judge for himself in its interpretation, made 
schools necessary, to bring all persons "to a 
knowledge of the Scriptures," and an under- 
standing " of the main grounds and princi- 
ples of the Christian religion necessary to 
salvation." The constitution of civil gov- 
ernment adopted by them from the_ out- 
.sct, which declared all civil officers elective, 
and gave to e^■ery inhabitant who would take 
the oath of allegiance the right to vote and 
to be voted for, and which practically con- 
verted political society into a partnership, in 
which each member liad the right to bind 
the whole firm, made universal education 



EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT -IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD. 



339 



identical with self-preservation. But aside 
from these considerations, the natural and 
acknowledged leaders in this enterprise — 
the men who, hy their religious character, 
wealth, social position, and previous expe- 
rience in conducting large business oper- 
ations, commanded puhllc confidence in 
church and commonwealth, were educated 
men — as highly and thoroughlv educated 
as they could be at the best endowed free 
and grammar schools in England at that 
period; and not a few of them had en- 
joyed the advantages of her great univer- 
sities. These men would naturall}' seek for 
their own children the best opportunities 
of education which could be provided ; and 
it is the crowning glory of these men, that, 
instead of sending their own children back 
to England to be educated in grammar 
schools and colleges, these institutions were 
established here amid the stumps of the pri- 
meval forests ; that, instead of setting up 
" famil)' schools" and " select schools" for 
the ministers' sons and magistrates' sons, tlie 
ministers and magistrates were found, not 
only in town meeting, pleading for an allow- 
ance out of the common treasury for the 
support of a public or common school, and 
in some instances for a " free school," hut 
among the families, entreating parents of all 
classes to send their children to the same 
school with their own. All this was done 
in advance of any legislation on the subject, 
as will be seen from the following facts 
gleaned from the early records of several of 
the towns first planted. 

TOWN ACTION IN DEIIALF OF SCHOOLS. 

The earliest records of most of the towns 
of New England are either obliterated or 
lost, but among the oldest entries which 
can now be recovered, the school is men- 
tioned not as a new thing, but as one of the 
established interests of socictv, to be looked 
after and provided for as much as roads 
and bridges and protection from the Indians. 
In the first book of records of the town of 
Boston, under date of April 13, 1634, after 
providing by ordinance for the keeping of 
the cattle by " brother Cheesbrough," " it 
was then generally agreed upon that our 
brother Philemon Purinont shall be entreat- 
ed to become schoolmaster for the teaching 
and nurturing of children with us." This 
was doubtless an elementary school, for in 
1636 we find a subscription entered on 
the records of the town " by the richer 



inhabitants," " for the maintenance of a free 
schoolmaster, for the youtli with us — Mr. 
Daniel Maude being now also chosen there- 
unto." Mr. Maude was a clergyman, a title 
at that day and in that community which 
was evidence of his being an educated man. 
This "free school" was, in the opinion of the 
writer, not necessarily a school of gratuitous 
instruction for all, but an endowed school 
of a higher grade, of the class of the Eng- 
lish grammar school, in which many of the 
first settlers of New England had received 
their own education at home. Toward the 
maintenance of this school, the town, in 
1G42, in advance of any legislation by the 
General Court, ordered " Deer Island to be 
improved," and several persons made be- 
quests in their last wills. Similar provision 
can be cited from the early records of Salem, 
Cambridge, Dorchester, and other towns of 
ilassachusetts Bay. 

The early records of the town of Hartford 
are obliterated, but within seven years after 
the first log-house was erected, thirty pounds 
are appropriated to the schools, and in April, 
1643, it is ordered "that Mr. Andrews shall 
teach the children in the school one year," 
and "he shall have for his pains £1G, and 
therefore the townsmen shall go and inquire 
who will engage themselves to send their 
children ; and all that do so, shall pay for one 
quarter, at the least, and for more if they do 
send them, after the proportion of twenty 
shillings the year; and if they go any week 
more than one quarter, they shall pay six- 
pence a week ; and if any would send their 
children and are not able to pay for their 
teaching, they shall give notice of it to the 
townsmen, and they shall pay it at the town's 
charge." Mention is also made of one " Goody 
Betts," who kept a " Dame School" after the 
fashion of Shenstone's " schoolmistress" at 
Lcasower, in England. Similar entries are 
found in the town records of Windsor and 
Wethersfield in advance of any school code 
by the colony of Connecticut. 

The records of the town of New Haven are 
full of .evidence of the interest taken by the 
leading spirits of the colon}', particular!}- by 
Governor Theophilus Eaton and Rev. John 
Davenport, in behalf of schools of every grade, 
and of the education of every class, from the 
apprentice boy to those who filled the high 
places in church and state. The first settle- 
ment of the colony was in 1638, and within a 
year a transaction is recorded, which, while 
it proves the existence of a school at that 



340 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



early period, also proclaims the protection 
which the first settlers extended to the indi- 
gent, and their desire to make elementary ed- 
ucation universal. In 1639, Thomas Fugill 
is required by the court to keep Charles 
Higiuson, an indentured apprentice, " at 
school one year ;" or else to advantage him 
as much in his education as a year's learning 
comes to. In 1641, the town orders "that 
a Free School be set up," and " our pastor, 
Mr. Davenport, together with the magistrates, 
shall consider what yearly allowance is meet 
to be given to it out of the common stock 
of the town, and also what rules and orders 
are meet to be observed in and about the 
same." To this school " that famous school- 
master," Ezekiel Cheever,* "was appoint- 
ed," " for the better training up of youth in 
this town, that, through God's blessing, they 
ma}' be fitted for public service hereafter, 
in church or commonwealth." Not con- 
tent w'itli a Grammar School, provision was 
early made for " the relief of poor scholars 
at the college at Cambridge," and in 164.5 
forty bushels of wheat were sent forward for 
this purpose, and this was followed by other 
donations, and by a richer consignment of 
young men to enjoy the advantages of the 
institution. In 1647, in the distribution of 
home lots, it was ordered in town meeting, 
that the magistrates " consider and reserve 
what lot they shall see meet, and most com- 
modious for a college, which they desire may 
be set up so soon as their ability will reach 
thereunto." Among the active promoters 
of education and schools, the name of Gov- 
ernor Eaton, in connection with Mr. Daven- 
port, is particularly prominent. In 1652, 
he calls a meeting of tlie magistrates and 
elders " to let tliem know what he has done 
for a schoolmaster ;" that he had written a 
letter to one Mr. Bower, a schoolmaster of 
Plymouth, and another to Ilev. Mr. Lan- 
dron, a scholar; and many of the town 
thought tliere would be need of two school- 
masters — " one to teach boys to read and 
write," as well as the "Latin schoolmaster." 
At another time he reports his correspond- 
ence with a teacher in Wethersficld, then 
with one at old Plymouth, and again with 
one at Norwalk, " so that the town might 
never be without a sufficient schoolmaster." 
He seems to have been considerate of the 
health of the teachers, and proposes to ex- 



*See Barnard's American Teachers and JSJucatvrs, 
vol i., art. "Ezekiel Cheever." 



cuse one " whose health would not allow 
him to go on with the work of teachintr," 
which he seems to regard as more laborious 
than that of the ministry. On another oc- 
casion he introduces to the committee a 
schoolmaster who has come to treat about 
the school. lie is allowed £20 a year, and 
.30 shillings for his expenses in travel, besides 
his board and lodgings. He wished to have 
liberty to visit his friends, " which he pro- 
posed to be in harvest time, and that his 
pay be such as wherewith he may buy 
books." These particulars show the consid- 
erate interest taken by men in local authori- 
ty in the school and the teacher, in advance 
of any directory or compulsory legislation 
of the colony of New Haven. It was owing, 
in part, to the timely suggestions of Re\'. 
Mr. Davenport, that Gov. Edward Hopkins, 
of Connecticut, by liis will, dated London, 
March 7, 1657, bequeathed the residue of his 
estate (after disposing of much of his estate 
in New England) to trustees residing in New 
Haven and Harttord, "in full assurance of 
their trust and faithfulness" in disposing of 
it, " to give some encouragement in those 
foreign plantations for the breeding up of 
hopeful youths both at the grammar school 
and college, for the public service of the 
country in future times." By the final dis- 
position and distribution of this estate three 
grammar schools were established at New 
Haven, Hartford, and Iladley, which are in 
existence at this day, among the oldest insti- 
tutions of this class in America. 

The early records of the several towns 
which subsequently constituted a portion of 
the colony of New Hampshire, exhibit evi- 
dence of a difiercnt character and spirit in 
the first settlers. The plantations on the 
Piscataqua river were made by proprietors 
from mere commercial motives, and the set- 
tlers were selected in reference to immediate 
success in that direction ; and in these settle- 
ments we find no trace of any individual or 
town action in behalf of education until 
after their union with the colony of Massa- 
chusetts, whose laws made the establishment 
of schools obligatory. 

In the early records of the Rhode Island 
and Providence Plantations, we find traces 
of the same educational policy which mark- 
ed the early history of towns in M;issachu- 
setts and Connecticut. According to Cal- 
lender, in Newport, "so early as 1640, Mr. 
Lenthal was by vote called to keep a public 
school for the learning of youth, and for 



EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD. 



341 



liis encouragement there were granted to 
him and his heirs, one liiindred acres of land, 
and four more for a house lot. It was also 
voted that one hundred acres should be ap- 
propriated for a school for encouragement 
of the poorer sort to train up their youth in 
learning. And Mr. Robert Lenthal, while 
he continues to keep school, is to have the 
benefit thereof." The proprietors of other 
plantations reserved a portion of land for 
the maintenance of schools, and generally 
of a " free schoole ;" and " Mr. Schoolmas- 
ter Turpin," petitions the town of Provi- 
dence, that he and his heirs, so long as an}- 
of them should maintain the worthy art of 
learning, may be invested in the lands set 
apart for a school. 

These citations show the action of the 
towns independent of an}' general legislation 
by the several colonies of New England — 
action prompted by their own consciousness 
of the advantages of education in " Dame 
Schools," in "Free Schools," in "Grammar 
Schools" and in "Colleges" at home — aided 
by the presence among them of "masters" 
and "ushers," and also of "schoolmasters" 
and '■ schoolma'ams" willing to engage in 
the same vocations in the new townships and 
villages — stimulated by magistrates and min- 
isters, who had themselves received the best 
education that such schools could give in 
England, who inculcated the reading of the 
Scriptures as of daiU' obligation, and who 
believed that the foundations of the state 
should be laid in the virtue and intelligence 
of the whole people. 

COLONIAL LEGISLATION AND ACTION. 

We shall now notice briefly the legislation 
respecting children and schools of each of 
the colonies, in the order of their settlement. 

Virginia. — Although several attempts 
were made to establish " Free Schools" and 
a " College" in Virginia, b}' the Virginia 
Company and benevolent individuals, at an 
earlier day, the first general legislation re- 
specting the education of children by the 
Colonial Assembly was in 1631, when it was 
enacted: "It is also thought fit, that upon 
everv Sunday the myidster* shall, halfc an 
hour or more before evening praver, examine, 
catechise, and instruct the youths and igno- 
rant persons of his parish in the ten com- 



* In this and some other quotations we liavu 
followed the ortliography of the original. 



mandments, the articles of the beliefe, and in 
the Lord's prayer ; and' shall diligentlie heere, 
instruct, and teach the catechisme, sett forth 
in the book of Common Prayer. And all 
fathers, mothers, maysters, and mistrisses, 
shall cause their children, servants, or ap- 
prentices, which have not learned their cate- 
chisme, to come to church at the time ap- 
povnted, obedientlie to heare, and to be 
ordered by the mynister untill they have 
learned the same. And yf any of sayd 
fathers, mothers, maysters & mistresses, 
children, servants, or apprentices, shall neg- 
lect their duties, as the one sorte in not 
causinge them to come, and the other in 
refusinge to learne as aforesayd, they shall 
be censured by the corts in these places 
holden." To secure the execution of this 
last clause, it is provided in the oath of the 
warden, taken before " the justices for the 
luonthlie c<irts" — "they shall present such 
mastyrs and mistresses as shall be delinquent 
in the catechisinge the youth and ignorant 
persons. So help you God." 

In 1660 an attempt was made to found a 
college for the supply of educated clergy lucn. 
" Whereas the want of able and faithful 
ministers in this country deprives us of those 
great blessings and mercies that always at- 
tend upon the service of God ; which want, 
by reason of the great distance from our 
native country, cannot in all probability be 
always supplied from thence : Be it enacted, 
that fur the advance of learning, education 
of youth, supply of the ministiy, and pro- 
motion of piety, there be land taken for a 
college and free school with as much speed as 
may be conveiuent, houses erected thereon 
for entertainment of students and scholars." 
In the same year it was ordered that a peti- 
tion be drawn up b}' the General Assembly 
to tlie king for a college and free school ; and 
that there be his letters patent " to collect 
the charity of well disposed persons in Eng- 
land, fur the erecting of colledges it schools 
in this countryc," and also to bestow univer- 
sities "to furnish the church here with min- 
isters for the present." And this petition was 
recommended to the right honorable Gov- 
ernor, Sir William Berkeley. Sir William 
does not appear, in his reply to tlie Lords 
Commissioners of Foreign Plantations, dated 
1670, to have been very kindly disposed to 
public schools of high or low degree. 

"Question 23. What course is taken 
about the instructing the people within 
your govermueut in the Christian religion ; 



342 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



and what provision is there made for the pay- 
ment of your ministry ?" 

" Answer. The same course that is taken 
in England out of towns; every man accord- 
ing to his ability instructing his children. 
We have fort3'-eight parishes, and our min- 
isters are well paid, and by my consent should 
be better if they would pray oftener and 
preach less. But of all other commodities, 
so of this, the worst are sent us, and we had 
few that we could boast of, since the perse- 
cution in Cromwell's tyranny drove divers 
worthy men hither. But 1 thank God there 
are no free schools, nor printing, and I hope 
■we shall not have these hundred years ; for 
learning has brought disobedience and heresy 
and sects into the world, and printing has di- 
vulged them, and libels against the best gov- 
ernment. God keep us from both !" 

In 1691, "the good design of building a 
free school and college for the encourage- 
ment of learning," was recognized, but it was 
not till 1693 that an act was passed locat- 
ing the college, for which a royal chai'ter liad 
been obtained April 8, 1692, witli the title 
of William and Mary, at Middle I'lantation, 
afterward Williamsburgh. Toward its en- 
dowment the royal founders granted £2000 
in money, land, and a revenue duty on to- 
bacco ; and the Assembly enacted an ex- 
port duty on skins and furs. The money 
grant of £2000 did not meet with much 
encouragement from the English Attorney 
General (Seymour) who was instructed to 
prepare the charter, who remarked to the 
liev. James Blair, the agent of the colony 
for this purpose, that the money was wanted 
for other purposes, and that ho did not see 
the slightest occasion for a college in Vir- 
ginia. The agent represented that the in- 
tention of the colony was to educate and 
qualify young men to be ministers of the 
Gospel, and begged Mr. Attorney would 
consider that the people of Virginia had 
souls to be saved as well as the people of 
England. " Souls !" said he ; " damn your 
souls ! make tobacco." The plan of the 
building was designed by Sir Christopher 
Wren. The first commencement was held 
in 1700, at which, accordinjr to Oldmixon, 
"there was a great concourse of people; 
several planters came thither in their coaches, 
and several sloops from New York, Pennsyl- 
vania and Maryland ; it being a new thing 
in America to hear graduates perform their 
academical exercises. The Indians them- 
selves had the curiosity to come to Wil- 



liamsburgh on this occasion ; and the whole 
country rejoiced as if they had some relish 
of learning." After the English fashion, the 
college had a representative in the General 
Assembly. As a quitrent for the land grant- 
ed by the Crown, the students and professors 
every year marched to the residence of the 
royal Governor, and presented, and some- 
times recited, some Latin verses. On the 
breaking out of the Revolution the endow- 
ments of the college were cut off, and its 
constitution was somewhat changed. 

No general school law was established in 
Virginia until 1796, although a plan was 
proposed by Mr. Jefferson in 1779, which 
recognized three degrees of public instruc- 
tion, viz. : 1 . Elementary schools for all chil- 
dren. 2. Colleges for an extension of in- 
struction suitable for the common purposes 
of life. 3. A university, an extension of the 
means of higher culture on the basis of the 
college at Williamsburgh. 

Scattered through the colony were schools 
in connection with churches, both Episcopal 
and Presbyterian, and in many families 
private teachers were employed, and in some 
cases sons were sent out to England to com- 
plete their education. 

Massachusetts. — In 1636, six years.after 
the first settlement of Boston, the General 
Court of the colony of Massachusetts Bay, 
which met in Boston on the 8th of Septem- 
ber, passed an act appropriating £400 to- 
ward the establishment of a college. The 
sum thus appropriated was more than the 
whole tax levied on the colony at that time 
in a single year, and tlie population scattered 
through ten or twelve villages did not ex- 
ceed five thousand persons ; but among them 
were eminent graduates of the university of 
Cambridge, in England, and all were here 
for purposes of permanent settlemqnt. In 
1638, John Harvard left by will the sum of 
£779 in money, and a library of over three 
hundred books. In 1640 the General Court 
granted to the college the income of the 
Charlestown ferry; and in 1642 the Gov- 
ernor, with the magistrates and teachers and 
elders, were empowered to establish statutes 
and constitutions for the infant institution, 
and in 1650 granted a charter which still 
remains the fundamental law of the oldest 
literary institution in this countr}'. 

In 1642 the attention of the General 
Court was turned to the subject of family 
instruction in the following enactment: — ■ 



EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD. 



343 



" Forasmuch as tlie good education of 
children is of singular behoof and benefit to 
any commonwealth ; and whereas many 
parents and masters are too indulgent and 
negligent of their duty in this kind : 

''' It is therefore ordered by this Court and 
the authority thireof, That the selectmen of 
every town, in the several precincts and 
quarters where they dwell, shall have a vigi- 
I lant eye over their brethren and neighbors, 
1 to see, first, that none of them shall sufi'er so 
i much barbarism in any of their families, as 
j not to endeavor to teach, by themselves or 
others, their children and apprentices so 
much learning as may enable them perfectly 
to read the English tongue, and knowledge 
of the capital laws, upon penalty of twenty 
shillings for each neglect therein ; also, that 
all masters of families do, once a week, at 
least, catechise their children and servants 
in the grounds and principles of religion, and 
if any be unable to do so much, that then, 
at the least, they procure such children or 
apprentices to learn some short orthodox 
catechism, without book, that they may be 
able to answer to the questions that shall be 
propounded to them out of such catechisms 
by their parents or masters, or any of the 
selectmen, where they shall call them to a 
trial of what they have learned in this kind ; 
and further, that all parents and masters do 
breed and bring up their children and ap- 
prentices in some honest lawful calling, labor 
or employment, either in husbandry or some 
other trade profitable for themselves and the 
commonwealth, if they will not nor cannot 
train them up in learning to fit them for 
higher employments; and if any of the select- 
men, after admonition by them given to such 
masters of families, shall find them still neg- 
ligent of their duty in the particulars afore- 
mentioned, whereby children and servants 
become rude, stubborn and unruly, the said 
selectmen, with the help of two magistrates, 
shall take such children or apprentices from 
them, and place them with some masters for 
years, boys till they come to twenty-one, 
and girls eighteen years of age complete, 
which will more strictly look unto and force 
thera to submit unto government, according 
to the rules of this order, if by fixir means 
and former instructions they will not be 
drawn unto it." 

In the same year the following general 
school law was enacted: — "It being one 
chief project of that old deluder, Satan, to 
keep men from the knowledge of the Scrip- 



tures, as in former times, keeping them in 
an unknown tongue, so in these latter times, 
by persuading from the use of tongues, so 
that at least the true sense and meaning of 
the original might be clouded and corrupted 
with false glosses of deceivers ; and to the end 
that learning may not be buried in the grave 
of our forefathers, in church and common- 
wealth, the Lord assisting our endeavors : 

"It is therefore ordered by this Court and 
authority thereof That every township with- 
in this jurisdiction, after the Lord hath in- 
creased them to the number of fifty honse^ 
holders, shall thenforthwith appoint one with- 
in their town to teach all such children, as 
shall resort to him, to write and read, whose 
wages shall ho paid, either by the parents or 
masters of such children, or by the inhabi- 
tants in general, by way of supply, as the 
major part of those who order the pruden- 
tials of the town shall appoint ; provided, 
that those who send their children be not 
oppressed by paying much more than they 
can have them taught for in other towns. 

"And it is further ordered, That where 
any town shall increase to the number of 
one hundred families or householders, they 
shall set up a grammar school, the masters 
thereof being able to instruct youths so far 
as they may be fitted for the university, and 
if any other town neglect the performance 
hereof above one year, then every such 
town shall pay five pounds per annum to 
the next such school, till they shall perform 
this order." 

With various modifications as to details, but 
with the same objects steadily in view, viz., the 
exclusion of " barbarism" from every family, 
by preventing its having even one untauglit 
and idle child or apprentice, the maintenance 
of an elementary school in every neighbor- 
hood where there were children enough to 
constitute a school, and of a Latin school in 
every large town, and of a college for higher 
culture for the whole colony, the colonial 
legislature, and the people in the several 
towns of Massachusetts, maintained an edu- 
cational system, which, although not as early 
or as thorough as the school code of Saxony 
and Wirtcmberg, has expanded with the 
growth cf the community in population, 
wealth, and industrial development, and 
stimulated and shaped the legislation and ef- 
forts of other states in behalf of universal edu- 
cation. 

The early records of the colony of Ply- 
mouth contain no trace of the zeal for 



344 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



schools whicli characterized the colonies of 
Massachusetts Bay, Connecticut, and New- 
Haven. In 1662 the profits of the codfish- 
ery were appropriated to the maintenance 
of grammar schools in such towns as would 
make arrangements for the same ; and in 
1669 towns having fifty families were au- 
thorized to raise by rate on all tlie inhabi- 
tants the sum of twelve pounds for this 
class of schools, " for as mnoli as the mainte- 
nance of good literature doth much tend to 
the advancement of the weal and flourishing 
state of societies and republics." After the 
union of the two colonies under one charter, 
several towns in the old colony were fined 
for not complying with the provisions of the 
law of 1647 respecting children and schools. 
In addition to the grammar school which 
each town having one hundred families was 
obliged by law to maintain, to enable young 
men to fit for college, in several counties 
endowed schools were set up ; and in 1763 
the first of that class of institutions, known 
and incorporated as academies, was estab- 
lished in the parish of Byfield in the town 
of Newbury, on a legacy left by Gov. Wil- 
liam Dummer. Its objects were the same as 
those of the town grammar school, but its 
benefits were not confined to one town, nor 
was it supported in any degree by taxation. 

Rhode Island. — Tn this colony education 
was left to individual and parental care, no 
trace of any legislation on the subject being 
found in the proceedings of the General 
Assembly, except to incorporate in 1747 the 
" Society for the Promotion of Knowledge 
and Virtue," which was established in New- 
port in 1730 by the name of the "Company 
of the Redwood Library ;" and in 1764 to 
grant the charter to the College of Rhode 
Island, which was first located in Warren, 
and in 1770 removed to Providence, and in 
1804 called, after its most liberal benefactor. 
Brown University. 

Connecticut. — In 1646, Mr. Roger Lud- 
low was requested to compile " a body of 
laws for the governmeut u{ this common- 
wealth," which was not completed till May, 
1650, and is known as the code of 1650. 
The jM'ovisions for the family instruction 
of children and the maintenance of schools 
are identically the same as in Massachu- 
setts, and remained on the statute-book, 
■with but slight modifications to give them 
more efficiency, for one hundred and fifty 



years. In the chapter on " capital" of- 
fences, it is enacted that if any child above 
sixteen years of age, and of sufficient under- 
standing, shall curse or smite his father or 
mother, he shall be put to death, " unless it 
can be sufficiently testified that the parents 
have been unchristianly negligent in the ed- 
ucation of such children." In the chapter 
respecting schools, the proposition made by 
the "Commissioners of the United Colonies," 
that it be commended to every famil}' which 
" is able and willing to give yearly but the 
fourth part of a bushel of corn, or something 
equivalent thereto," " for the advancement 
of learning," was approved, and two men 
were appointed in every town to receive and 
forward the contributions. This was done 
in the larger towns of the colonies of Con- 
necticut and New Haven, from time to time, 
until ten of the principial ministers, in 1700, 
at Branford, brought each a number of books, 
and as they laid them on the table, declared — 
"■I give these hooks for foxmdinri a Coller/e in 
Connecticut;" and on that foundation rose 
Yale College. To fit young men for tlic 
college at C'ambridge, and subsequently for 
Yaie, in 1672 it was ordered by the Gen- 
eral Court, " that in every county there shall 
be set up a grammar school for tlie use of 
the county, the master thereof being able to 
instruct youths so far as they may be fitted 
for college ;" and to aid the county towns in 
maintaining their schools, six hundred acres 
of land were appropriated by the General 
Court to each, " to be imjjroved in the best 
manner that may be for the benefit of a 
grammar school in said towns, and to no 
other use or end whatsoever;" and in 1677 
a fine of ten pounds annually is imposed on 
any county town neglecting to keep the 
Latin school. In 1690, the county Latin 
schools of Hartford and New Haven are de- 
nominated '' Free Schools," probably in ref- 
erence to the partial endowment of schools 
of this class by the trustees of the legacy 
of Governor Hopkins. 

As early as 1700, the system of public 
instruction in Connecticut embraced the fol- 
lowing particulars : 

1. An obligation on every parent and 
guardian of children, " not to suft'er so much 
barbarism in any of their families as to have 
a single child or apprentice unable to read 
the holy word of God, and the good laws of 
the colony;" and also, "to bring them up to 
some lawful calling or employment," under 
a penalty for each otfencei 



EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD. 



345 



2. A tax of forty sliillino-s on every thou- 
sand pounds of tlie lists of estates, was col- 
lected in every town with the annual state 
tax, and payable proportionably to those 
towns only which should keep their schools 
according to law. 

3. A common school in every town hav- 
ing over seventy families, kept for at least 
six months in the year. 

4. A grammar school in each of the four 
head county towns to fit youth for college, 
two of which grammar schools were free or 
endowed. 

5. A collegiate school, toward which the 
General Court made an annual appropriation 
of £120. 

(). Provision for the religious instruction 
of the Indians. 

The s}'stem, therefore, embraced every 
family and town, all classes of children and 
youth, and all the then recognized grades of 
schools. There were no select or sectarian 
schools to classify society at the roots, but 
all children were regarded with equal favor, 
and all brought under the assimilating influ- 
ence of early associations and similar school 
privileges. Here was the foundation laid, 
not only for universal education, but for a 
practical, political, and social equality, which 
has never been surpassed in the history of 
any other community. 

New Hampshire. — From 1023 to 1G41, 
the early records of the first settlements 
■within the present limits of New Hampshire 
exhibit no trace of educational enactments ; 
from 1641 to 1680, the school laws of Mas- 
sachusetts prevailed, and the presence of 
such men as Philemon Purmont and Daniel 
Maude, who were the first schoolmasters of 
that colony, must have contributed to inauiiu- 
rate the policy of local and endowed schools. 
AVhen the necessities of the eoUecje at Cam- 
bridge were made known, the people of 
Portsmouth, in town meeting;, made a col- 
lection of sixty pounds, with a pledge to con- 
tinue the same amount for seven vears, " for 
the perpetuating of knowledge both religious 
and civil among us and our posterity after 
us." In the original grants for towns one 
lot was reserved for the support of schools. 

In 1680 New Hampshire became a sepa- 
rate colony, and in 1693 the Colonial As- 
sembly enacted " that for the building and 
repairing of meeting houses, ministers' 
houses, and allowing a salary to a school- 
master in each town within this province, 



the selectmen shall raise by an equal rate 
an assessment upon the inhabitants ;" and 
in I7l9 it was ordained that every town 
having fifty householders should be con- 
stantly provided with a schoolmaster to 
teach children to read and ^Yrite ; and those 
having one hundred should maintain a gram- 
mar school, to be kept by some decent 
person, of good conversation, well instructed 
in the tongues. In 1721 it was ordered that 
not only each town but each parish of one 
hundred families should be constantly pro- 
videil with a grammar school, or forfeit the 
sum of twenty pounds to the treasury of the 
province. This system of elementary and 
secondary instruction continued substantially 
until the adoption of the state constitution 
in 1792. 

In 1770 Dr. Wheelock removed a school 
which he had established in Lebanon, Con- 
necticut, under the name of " Moor's Indian 
Charity School," to the depths of the forests 
in the western part of New Hampshire. 
Here, side by side with the school for 
Indians, he organized another institution, 
termed a college in the charter granted by 
Governor Wentworth in 1769, and which 
held its first commencement in 1771, with 
four graduates, one of whom was John 
Wheelock, the second president of the in- 
stitution, which was called Dartmouth Col- 
lege after Lord Dartmouth, one of the larg- 
est benefactors of the Charity School. 

At the close of the colonial period of our 
history, according to Noah Webster, the 
condition of the educational system in Con- 
necticut and New England was as follows: 

"The law of Connecticut ordains that 
every town or parish containing seventy 
householders, shall keep an English school, 
at least eleven months in the year; and 
towns containing a less number, at least six 
months in the year. Every town keeping 
a public school is entitled to draw from the 
treasury of the state a certain sum of money, 
proportioned to its census in the list of prop- 
erty which furnishes the rule of taxation. 
This sum might have been originally suf- 
ficient to support one school in each town 
or parish, but in modern times is divided 
among a number, and the deficiency of 
money to support the schools is raised upon 
the estates of the people, in the manner the 
public taxes are assessed. To extend the 
benefits of this establishment to all the in- 
habitants, large towns and parishes are di- 



346 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



vided into districts, each of wliich is sup- 
posed able to furnish a competent number 
of scholars for one school. In each district 
a house is erected fur the purpose by the 
inliabitants of that district, who hire a mas- 
ter, furnish wood, and tax themselves to pay 
all expenses not provided for by the public 
money. The school is kept during the win- 
ter months, when every fanner can spare liis 
sons. In this manner, every child in the 
state has access to a school. In the sum- 
mer, a woman is hired to teach small chil- 
dren, who are not fit for any kind of labor. 
lu the large towns, schools, either public or 
private, are kept the whole year; and in 
every county town, a grammar school is 
established bv law. 

" The beneficial etfects of these institutions 
will be experienced for ages. Next to the 
establishments in favor of religion, they have 
been the nurseries of well-informed citizens, 
brave soldiers and wise legislators. A peo- 
ple thus informed are capable of understand- 
ing their rights and of discovering the means 
to secure them. In the next place, our fore- 
fathers took measures to preserve the repu- 
tation of schools and the morals of youth, 
by making the teaching them an honor- 
able employment. Every town or district 
has a committee, whose duty is to procure a 
master of talents and character ; and the 
practice is to procure a man of the best 
character in the town or neighborhood. The 
wealthy towns apply to young men of lib- 
eral education, who, after taking the bache- 
lor's degree, usually keep school a year or 
two before they enter upon a profession. 
One of the most unfortunate circumstances 
to education in the Middle and Southern 
-, states, is an opinion that school-keeping is 
a mean employment, fit only for persons of 
low character. The wretches who keep the 
schools in those states very frequently de- 
grade the employment; but the misfortune 
is, public opinion supposes the employment 
degrades the man : of course no gentleman 
will undertake to teach children while in 
popular estimation he must forfeit his rank 
and character by the employment. Until 
public opinion is corrected by some great 
examples, the common schools, what few 
there are in those states, must continue in 
the hands of such vagabonds as wander 
about the country." 

"Nearly connected with the establishment 
of schools is the circulation of newspapers 
in New England. This is both a conse- 



quence and a cause of a general diffusion of 
letters. In Connecticut, almost every man 
reads a paper every week. In the year 
1785, I took some pains to ascertain the 
number of papers printed weekly in Con- 
necticut and in the .Southern states. I found 
the number in Connecticut to be nearly eight 
thousand ; which was equal to that published 
in the whole territory south of Pennsylvania. 
By means, of this general circulation of pub- 
lic papers, the people are informed of all 
political affairs ; and their representatives 
are often prepared to deliberate on proposi- 
tions made to the legislature. 

"Another institution favorable to knowl- 
edge is the establishment of parish libraries. 
These arc procured by subscription, but they 
are numerous, the expense not being con- 
siderable, and the desire of reading universal. 
One hundred volumes of books, selected 
from the best writers, on ethics, divinity, 
and histor\', and read bj' the principal in- 
habitants of a town or village, will have an 
amazing influence in spreading knowledge, 
correcting the morals, and softening the 
manners of a nation. I am acquainted with 
parishes where almost every householder has 
read the works of Addison, Sherlock, Atter- 
bury. Watts, Young, and other similar 
writings ; and will converse well on the 
subjects of which they treat." 

New York. — In the early history of the 
settlements of the New Netherlands, the 
school was regarded as an appendage of the 
church, and the sclioolmaster was paid in 
part out of the funds of the government. 
Down to its organization as a royal province 
of England, a parochial school existed in 
every parish. In 1658 a petition of the 
burgomasters and schepens of New Amster- 
dam was forwarded to the West India Com- 
panj', in which " it is represented that the 
}-outh of this place and the neighliorhood 
are increasing in number gradually, and 
that most of them can read and write, but 
that some of the citizens and inhabitants 
would like to send their children to a school 
the principal of which underst.ands Latin, 
but are not able to do so without sending 
them to New England ; furthermore, they 
have not the means to hire a Latin school- 
master, expressly for themselves, from New 
England, and therefore they ask that the 
West India Company will send out a fit 
person as Latin schoolmaster, not doubting 
that the number of persons who will send 



EDUCATIOKAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD. 



347 



their cliildrcn to suda teacher will from year 
to year increase, until an academy shall be 
formed whereby this place to great splendor 
will have attained, for which, next to God, 
the honorable company which shall have 
sent such teacher here shall have laud and 
praise." In compliance with this petition, 
Dr. Alexander Carolus Curtius, a Latin 
master of Lithuania, was sent out by the 
company. The burgomasters proposed to 
give him five hundred guilders annually out 
of the city treasury, with the use of a house 
and garden, and the privilege of collecting 
a tuition of six guilders per quarter of each 
scholar. Dr. Curtius proved not to be a 
good disciplinarian, and parents complained 
to the authorities that " his pupils beat 
each other, and tore the clothes from each 
other's backs." The doctor retorted that 
he could not interfere, " as liis hands were 
tied, as some of the parents forbade him 
punishing their children." lie accordingly 
gave up his place and returned to Holland, 
and was succeeded in the mastership by 
Rev. ^Egidius Luyck in 1062. His school 
had a high reputation, and was resorted to 
by pupils from Virginia, Fort Orange, and 
the Delaware. 

After the establishment of the English 
authority, the governor claimed the privilege 
of licensing teachers even for the church 
schools, but no general school policy was 
established. In 17o2 a free grammar school 
was founded and built on the King's Farm, 
and in 1T32 a "Free School," f.ir teaching 
the Latin and Greek and practical branches 
of mathematics, was incorporated by law. 
The preamble of the act of incorporation 
opens as follows : " Whereas the youth of 
this colony are found by manifold experience 
to be not inferior in their natural genius to 
the youth of any other country in the 
■world, therefore be it enacted," etc. In 
17 10, the Society for the Propagation of the 
Gospel in Foreign Parts established a 
charity school in connection with the Epis- 
copal churcli, which is still in existence, and 
is now known as the Trinity School. In 
1750, Charles Dutens announced to the 
public " that he tautrht a school for the use 
of young ladies and gentlemen, whose love 
of learning might incline them to take 
lessons from him in French, at his house on 
Broad street, near the Long Bridge, where 
he also makes and vends finger and car rings, 
solitaii-es, stay-hooks and lockets, and sets 
diamonds, rubies, and other stones. Science 



and virtue are two sisters, which the most 
part of the New York ladies possess," etc. 

Judge Smith, in his " History of the Prov- 
ince of New York," when speaking of the 
action of the legislature for founding a col- 
lege in 1746, says : " To the disgrace of our 
first planters, who beyond comparison sur- 
passed their eastern neighbors in opulence, 
Mr. Dolanc}', a graduate of the University 
of Cambridge (England), and Mr. Smith, 
were for many years the only academics in 
this province, except such as were in holy 
orders; and so late as the period we are now 
examining (1750), the author did not recol- 
lect above thirteen men, the youngest of 
whom had his bachelor's degree at the age 
of seventeen, but two months before the pass- 
ing of the above law, the first toward erecting 
a college in this colony, though at a distance 
of above one hundred and twenty years after 
its discovery and settlement of the capital by 
Dutch progenitors from Amsterdam." 

In 1754 a royal charter was obtained for 
a college in New York, with the style of 
King's College, which came into possession 
of a fund raised by a lottery authorized for 
this purpose by the Assembly in 1746, and 
of a grant of land conveyed to its governors 
by Trinity Church in l755. Out of this 
grant, Columbia College is now (1860) re- 
alizing an income of ^60,000 a year. The 
first commencement was celebrated in 1758. 

" For the advantage of our new intended 
college" (King's), " and the use and orna- 
ment of the city," a number of eminent citi- 
zens of New York, in 1754, united in an 
association to form a libnary, which in 1772 
was incorporated with the title of the "New 
York Society Library." 

Maryland. — The first settlement was 
eS"ected within the present limits of Mary- 
land in 1634; and in the years immediately 
following, we find no record of any marked 
individual or legislative eflfort to establish 
institutions of learning. The first act of the 
colonial Assembly is entitled a "Supplicatory 
Act to their sacred majesties for erecting of 
schools," which was passed in 1694, and re- 
pealed or superseded by an act entitled a 
" I'etitionarj- Act'' for the same purpose. 
Appealing to the royal liberality, which had 
been extended to the neighboring colony of 
Virginia in the institution of the college, " a 
place of universal study," the Assembly ask, 
" that for the propagation of the Gospel, and 
the education of the youth of this province 



348 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



in good letters and manners, that a certain 
place or places for a free school or schools, or 
place of study of Latin, Greek, writing and 
the like, consisting of one master, one usher, 
and one writing-master or scribe to a school, 
and 100 scholars," be established in Arundel 
Count}', of which the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury should be chancellor, and to be called 
" King William's School;" and a similar free 
school is asked for in each county, to be 
established from time to time as the re- 
sources of the several counties may suffice. 
To increase the educational resources of the 
counties, in 1 7 1 7 it was enacted that an ad- 
ditional duty of twenty shillings current money 
per poll should be levied on all Irish servants, 
being papists, to prevent the growth of popery 
by the importation of too great a number of 
them into this province, and also an addi- 
tional duty of twenty shillings current 
money per poll on all negroes, for raising 
a fund for the use of public schools. In 
1723, "an act for the encouragement of 
learning, and erecting schools in the several 
counties," was passed, with a preamble set- 
ting forth that preceding Assemblies have 
had it much at heart, "to provide for the 
liberal and pious education of the youth 
of the province, and improving their natural 
abilities and acutencss (which seem not to 
be inferior to any), so as to be fitted for the 
discharge of their duties in the several sta- 
tions and employments in it, either in re- 
gard to church or state." By this act seven 
visitors are appointed in each county, with 
corporate powers to receive and hold estate 
to the value of £100 per annum; and they 
are authorized witTi all convenient speed to 
purchase, out of funds realized from revenues 
already set apart for this purpose, one hun- 
dred acres more or less, one moiety of which 
is to serve for making corn, grain, and pas- 
turage for the benefit and use of the master, 
who is prohibited growing tobacco, or ]ier- 
mitting it by others on said farm. The 
visitors are directed to employ good school- 
masters, members of the Church of England, 
and of pious and exemplary lives and con- 
versation, and capable of teaching well the 
grammar, good writing, and the mathemat- 
ics, if such can be conveniently got, on 
a salary of £20 per annum, and the use of 
the plantation. In 1728 the master of each 
public school is directed "to teach as many 
poor children gratis as the majority of the 
visitors should order." 

Up to the establishment of the state gov- 



ernment in 1777, there was no system of 
common schools for elementary instruction 
in operation in Maryland. " A free school," 
like the free endowed grammar school of 
England, was established in a majority of 
counties, two of which were subsequently 
converted into colleges, that of Charlestown 
in Kent county, into Washington College in 
1782, and the second at Annapolis into St. 
John's College in 1784 — the former "in 
honorable and perpetual memory of his 
excellency General Washington, the illus- 
trious and virtuous commander-in-chief of 
the armies of the United States." 

In 1696, Rev. Thomas Bray, then residing 
in the parisli of Sheldon, England, was made 
commissary of Maryland, to establish the 
Church of England in the colony. His first 
act was to inaugurate a plan of parochial 
libraries for the use of ministers in each 
parish. Through his influence, Princess 
Anne made a benetjiction for this purpose, 
and in acknowledgment of the honor of 
having the capital of the province called 
after her name (Annapolis), donated books 
to the value of four hundred pounds to the 
parish library, which he called "the An- 
napolitan Library." By his influence in 
England a plan of "lending-libraries" was 
projected in every deanery throughout the 
kingdom, and carried out. 

New Jersey. — In the history of New 
Jersey as a colony we find no trace of any 
general legislation or governmental action in 
behalf of schools. Scattered at wide in- 
tervals over the state were schools kept 
by clergymen in connection with their 
churches. 

In 1748 a charter of incorporation for the 
College of New Jersey was obtained from 
George II., during the administration of 
Governor Belcher, " for the instruction of 
youth in the learned languages and liberal 
arts and sciences." During the adminis- 
tration of Governor Franklin in 1770, a 
second college was chartered, with the name 
of Queen's (now Kutger's) College, as a 
school of theology for the Reformed Dutch 
Church. Neither of the institutions receiv- 
ed any aid from the government. 

Pennsylvania. — The frame of govern- 
ment of the province of Pennsylvania, dated 
April 25th, 1682, drawn up by William 
Penn before leaving England, contains the 
following provision : " The governor and 



EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD. 



349 



Iproviiicial council shall erect and order all 
, public schools and reward the authors of 
useful sciences and laudable inventions in 
said province." In the laws agreed upon 
a few months later in the same year by the 
'(jovernor and divers freemen of the province 
J in England, it is provided "that all children 
•within this prosdnce of the age of twelve 
years shall be taught some useful trade, or 
skill, to the end that none be idle, but that 
the poor may work to live, and the rich, if 
they become poor, may not want." In 1683 
the governor and council in Philadelphia, 
" having taken into their serious considera- 
tion the great necessity there is of a school- 
master in the town of Philadelphia, sent for 
Enoch Flower, an inhabitant of said town, 
who for twenty years past hath been exer- 
cised in that care and employment in Eng- 
land, to whom having communicated their 
minds, he embraced it upon the following 
terms : to learn to read English, 4s. by the 
quarter ;" to learn to read and write, 6s. ; 
read, write and cast accounts, 8s. ; for board- 
ing a scholar, £lO per year. In 1689 the 
Society of Friends established a Latin school 
of which George Keith was the first teacher. 
In 1725 Rev. Francis Alison, a native of 
Ireland, but educated at Glasgow, became 
pastor of the Presbyterian church in New 
London, in Chester county, and opened a 
school there, which had great reputation. 
He at one time resided at Thunder Hill, in 
Maryland, where he educated many young 
men who were afterward distinguished in 
the Revolutionary struggle. He was subse- 
quently Provost of the college at Philadel- 
phia. 

In 1749 Benjamin Franklin published his 
" Proposals relating to the Education of 
Youth in Pennsylvania" out of which ori- 
gioutcd subsequently an academy and char- 
ity school, and ultimately the University of 
Pennsylvania. At the head of the English 
department of the academy in 1751 was Mr. 
Dove, who was then engaged in giving pub- 
lic lectures in experimental philosophy with 
apparatus — an early lyceum or popular lec- 
turer. 

In 1743 the American Philosophical So- 
ciety originated in a " Proposal for Promot- 
ing Useful Knowledge," published by Ben- 
jamin Franklin, which, after various forms 
of organization, took its present name and 
shape on the 2d of January, 1769. 

In 1765 the Medical School originated 
with the appointment of Dr. Morgan to the 
21 * 



professorship of the theory and practice of 
physic; in 1767 it was fully organized, and 
in 1768 degrees in medicine were for the 
first time conferred. 

Among the denominational schools which 
grew up in the absence of any general 
legislation on the subject, was a Moravian 
school for boys at Nazareth in 1747, and for 
girls at Bethlehem 1749, both of which are 
still in existence, and the latter, especially, 
since 1789, has been one of the most flour- 
ishing female seminaries in this country. 

Delaware. — In the early settlements of 
the Swedes and Dutch in Delaware, the 
policy of connecting a school with the 
church was probably imperfectly carried 
out, but there is no historical trace of its 
existence. The only school legislation of 
the colony extant, is an act incorporating 
" the Trustees of the Grammar School in the 
borough of Wilmington, and county of New 
Castle/' dated April 10, 1773. 

North Carolina. — In North Carolina for 
fifty years, the policy of the provincial au- 
thorities was to discourage all forms of re- 
ligious and educational activity outside of 
the Church of England, to the extent of for- 
bidding expressly the establishment of print- 
ing presses. The first act on record relat- 
ing to schools, in 1764, was "for the build- 
ing of a house for a school, and the residence 
of a schoolmaster in the town of Newbern" 
— appropriating the lialf of two lots, before 
set ajiart for a church, for this purpose. In 
1766 another act was passed incorporating 
trustees for this school, with the preamble 
" that a number of well-disposed persons, 
taking into consideration the great necessity 
of having a proper school, or public seminary 
of learning established, whereby the present 
generation may be brought up and instructed 
in the principles of the Christian religion, 
and fitted for the several oiBces and purposes 
of life, have at great expense erected a 
school-house for this purpose ;" and provid- 
ing that the master of the school shall be 
"of the established Church of England, and 
licensed br the governor." Similar acts were 
passed inl770and 17 79 for schools at Edenton 
and Hillsborough. In 1770 an act, reciting 
that a very promising experiment had been 
made in the town of Charlotte in the county 
of Mecklenburg, with a seminary of learning 
"a number of youths there taught making 
great advancement in the knowledge of the 



350 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



learned languages, and in the rudiments of 
the arts and sciences, having gone to various 
colleges in distant parts of America," incor- 
porates the same with the name of Queen's 
College. This act was repealed by procla- 
mation in the next year, but in 1777 it was 
reincorporated by name of "Liberty Hall." 
AVith the downfall of the royal auth(3rity, 
and the religious party which had swayed 
the colony, a new educational policy was 
inaugurated. 

South Carolina. — In the early history 
of the colony of South Carolina, as of several 
other colonies, the first efforts to establish 
schools were in connection with the predom- 
inant church of the settlers, i. e., of the 
Church of England, through the aid of the 
" Venerable Society for Propagating the 
Gospel in Foreign Parts." By the mission- 
aries of that society charity schools were 
established in several parishes, some of which 
were afterward endowed by individuals, and 
incorporated by act of the legislature, and 
called "Free Schools." In 1710 a free 
school of this character was established at 
Goosecreek, and in 17 12 in Charleston; and 
by the general act of February 22, 1722, the 
justices of the county courts were author- 
ized to erect a free school in each county 
and precinct, to be supported by assessment 
on land and negroes. These .schools were 
bound to teach ten poor children each, if 
sent by said justices. In 1724, a memorial 
to the " Venerable Society" from the parish 
of Dorchester sets forth — " The chief source 
of irreligion here is the want of schools ; 
and we may justly be apprehensive, that if 
our children continue longer to be deprived 
of opportunities of being instructed, Chris- 
tianity will of course decay insensibly, and 
we shall have a generation of our own as 
ignorant as the native Indians." The so- 
ciety sent out schoolmasters to this and 
other p.-irishes, and about 2000 volumes of 
bound books. In 1721 Mr. Richard Beres- 
ford becjueathed to the parish of vSt. Thomas 
and St. Dennis, in trust, for the purpose of 
educating the poor, £6500; and in 1732 
Mr. Richard Harris, for the same object, 
£1000. In 1728 Rev. Richard Ludlam be- 
queathed his whole estate to the parish of 
St. James, which in 1778 amounted to 
£15,272. Other bequests for the same 
objects were made at different times before 
the Revolution. In 174.3 Rev. Alexander 
Garden wrote to the society that the negro 



school consisted of thirty children, and in 
1750 that it was going on with all desirable 
success. In 1748 a library was founded in 
Charleston by an association of seventeen 
young men, whose first object was to collect 
new pamphlets and magazines published in 
Great Britain, but in the course of a year 
embraced the purchase of books. After 
many delay's and refusals, an act of incor- 
poration was obtained in 1754. There is 
but one older library in this country. 

Georgia. — The earliest effort to establish 
schools in Georgia was made by the Rev. 
George Whitefield. Before leaving England 
in 1737, he had projected an Orphan House, 
after the plan of that of Dr. Franke, at Halle, 
of which an account about that time ap- 
peared in English. His first visit to Savan- 
nah in 1738 satisfied him of the necessity 
of a charity school for poor and neglected 
children, and in the course of that year he 
returned to England to obtain his ordination 
as priest and collect funds for his educational 
enterprise. The trustees of the colony gave 
him five hundred acres of land upon which 
to erect his buildings. These were selected 
about ten miles out of Savannah, and on the 
25th of March, 1740, he laid the first brick 
of the house, which he called Bethesda, or 
House of Mercy, and opened his school in 
temporary shelters with forty children. In 
the fall of the same year he made a collec- 
tion and preaching tour in New England, 
during which he collected over £800 for his 
charity. After disasters by fire, etc., the 
Orphan House property was bequeathed to 
Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, in trust for 
the purposes originally designed, and subse- 
quently incorporated for this purpose. On 
her death, and after the Revolution, the legis- 
lature transferred the property to thirteen 
trustees, to manage the estate and make reg- 
ulations for an academy in the county of 
Chatham. Schools were estalilished by the 
missionaries sent out by the Society for the 
Propagation of the Gospel at Savannah, Au- 
gusta, and Frederica, and by the Moravians 
and Huguenots in their respective settle- 
ments. 

RESULTS AT THE CLOSE OF OUR COLONIAL 
HISTORY. 

The educational sy.sfems and provisions 
of the colonial period of the United States 
were, especially in its earlier portion, closely 
connected with the ecclesiastical systems of 



REVOLUTIONART AND TRANSITIOKAL PERIOD. 



351 



the colonies. Schools were maintained by 
indiviJual youth trained up in very many 
cases, because it was a duty to prepare use- 
ful future members of the church, which in 
some of the colonies was also the state. 

In throe states, Massachusetts, Connecti- 
cut, and New Hampshire, it was very early 
made the legal duty of parents and towns 
to make provision for the education of youth. 
Elsewhere, such efforts as were made, aside 
from the natural desire of parents to afford 
their children such an education as was suit- 
able to their rank in life, or such as would 
aiil their subsequent progress and prosperit}', 
were, generally speaking, ])ut forth by clergy- 
men, ecclesiastical bodies, or pious laymen, 
for colonial institutions for secondary edu- 
cation were not very numerous, including 
the town grammar schools of New England, 
and a small number of endowed or free 
schools. In these two classes of institutions, 
a small number of pupils were prepared to 
eiiter college. A far greater number of col- 
lege students, more especially in the middle 
and southern states, were prepared by clergy- 
men, who received each a small number of 
pupils into his family, as a means of secur- 
ing some additional income. There were 
al.-o a few private schools of considerable 
reputation and value. 

In connection with these educational agen- 
cies, the small parochial and social libraries, 
and the two or three associations for the 
increase and dissemination of science, should 
also be referred to. 

The institutions of superior education, 
established during the colonial period, were 
seven in number; namely, Harvard, Wil- 
liam and Mary, Yale, Nassau Hall, Rutgers, 
Brown, and Columbia. From these came 
forth nearly all the liberally educated men 
of that day, though it was a custom of a few 
of the wealthiest families of the day to grad 
uate their sons at a European university, 
Oxford or Cambridge being commonly se- 
lected. The colonial colleges, like the 
schools preparatory to them, were substan- 
tially church institutions, their pupils being 
the stock from which the clerical body was 
reinforced. 

It was not until the very close of the co- 
lonial period that a few special or profes- 
sional schools were established. A school 
of medicine, sufficiently entitled to the name, 
gave degrees in New York in 1769; a sort 
of theological seminary was founded in Penn- 
sylvania in 1778; while the first law school 



only arose the year after the peace of 1783. 
Professorships, however, in these depart- 
ments, had atlbrdcd a certain amount of in- 
struction in all of them as part of the college 
course, long before ; indeed, from the foun- 
dation of the earliest colleges. 

Female education was comparatively neg- 
lected in the colonial period. Girls were 
taught housewifely duties far more assidu- 
ously than learning, and often depended 
upon home instruction for whatever educa- 
tion they received ; neither the common 
schools nor those for secondary education 
affording or being "designed to afford accom- 
modation for them. 

That special supplementary training which 
at the present day does so much to alleviate 
the misfortunes of the blind, the deaf and 
dumb, and the feeble minded, was quite un- 
known, nor was the idea entertained that 
such a training was practicable. 



CHAPTER II. 

REVOLUTIONARY AND TRANSITIONAL 
PERIOD. 

The immediate effects of the war of the 
Revolution were adverse, and, in certain as- 
pects, disastrous to the interests of education. 
Dangers so great and imminent almost en- 
grossed all thought and absorbed all exertion 
and resources. Children, indeed, were not 
left without the instruction of the family and 
the local elementary school, and they were, 
thank God, everywhere surrounded with the 
most Stirling exhibitions of heroic patriotism 
and the self-sacrificing virtues. But too gen- 
erally the elementary school and the teacher, 
never propei'ly appreciated, gave way to ' 
more pressing and universally-felt necessities. 
Higher education for a time experienced a 
severe shock. The calls of patriotism with- 
drew many young men from the colleges and 
the preparatory schools, and prevented many 
more from resorting thither. The impover- 
ishment of the country, and the demand for 
immediate action, compelled others to relin- 
quish an extended course of professional 
study. In some cases the presence of armies 
caused a suspension of college instruction and 
the dispersion of faculty and students, and 
even converted the college buildings into 
barracks. But the action and influence of 
this period were not wholly adverse or dis- 
astrous to schools and higher education. The 



352 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



public mind was stimulated into greatly in- 
creased activity — now, for the first time, as- 
'suming a collective existence and national 
characteristics. The heart of the people was 
thoroughly penetrated by the spirit of self- 
sacrifice, in cheerfully bearing the burdens of 
society with diminished resources, and in re- 
pairing the waste and destruction of the war. 
The examples of wisdom and eloquence in 
council, and courage and heroism in the 
field, and of patient endurance of privation 
and hardship, and towering above all and 
outshining all, the colossal greatness and 
transparent parity of the character of Wash- 
ington — these were lessons for the liead and 
the heart of a young nation, wdiich amply 
compensated for the partial and temporary 
suspension of schools. In the discussion and 
reconstruction of political society, in framing 
constitutions and organic legislation, and in 
the disposition of unsettled territory, the im- 
portance of the elementary school, the acad- 
emy, and the college, was recognized and pro- 
vided for. 

Among the earliest to do justice to this 
great subject was Noah Webster, who, in a 
series of essays, first published in a New 
York paper, and copied extensively by the 
press in other parts of the country, and after- 
ward embodied in a volume with other fu- 
gitive pieces, advocated a lilieral policy by 
the national and local governments in favor 
of a broad system of education. " Here every 
class of people should know and love the 
laws. This knowledge should be diffused by 
means of schools and newspapers ; and an at- 
tachment to the laws may be formed by early 
impression upon the mind. Two regulations 
are essential to the continuance of republican 
governments : 1. Such a distribution of lands 
and such principles of descent and alienation 
as shall give every citizen a power of acquir- 
ing what his industry merits. 2. Such a sys- 
tem of education as shall give every citizen 
an opportunity of acquiring knowledge, and 
fitting himself for places of trust." "Edu- 
cation should be the first care of a legisla- 
ture ; not merely the institution of schools, 
but the furnishing them with the best men 
for teachers. A good system of schools 
should be the first article in a code of politi- 
cal regulations ; for it is much easier to in- 
troduce and establish an effectual system for 
preserving morals, than to correct by penal 
statutes the ill effects of a bad system. I am 
so fully persuaded of this, that I should al- 
most adore that great man who shall change 



our practice and opinions, and make it re- 
spectable for the first and best men to super- 
intend the education of youth." As speci- 
mens of the utterances of eminent public 
men on this subject, we cite the following: 

" Promote, as an object of primary import- 
ance, institutions for the general diffusion of 
knowledge. In proportion as the structure 
of a government gives force to public opin- 
ion, it is essential that public opinion should 
be enlightened." George Washington. 

" The wisdom and generosity of the legis- 
lature in making liberal a])propriations in 
money for the benefit of schools, academics 
and colleges, is an equal honor to them and 
their constituents, a proof of their veneration 
for letters and science, and a portent of great 
and lasting good to North and South Amer- 
ica, and to the world. Great is truth — great 
is liberty — great is humanity — and they must 
and will prevail." John Adams. 

" I look to the diffusion of light and edu- 
cation as the resources most to be relied on 
for ameliorating the condition, promoting 
the virtue, and advancing the happiness of 
man. And I do hope, in the present spirit 
of extending to the great mass of mankind 
the blessings of instruction, I see a prospect 
of great advancement in the happiness of the 
human race, and this may proceed to an in- 
definite, although not an infinite, degree. A 
system of general instruction, which shall 
reach every description of our citizens, from 
the richest to the pooi-est, as it was the ear- 
liest, so shall it be the latest of all the public 
concerns in which I .shall permit mj'self to 
take an interest. Give it to us, in any shape, 
and receive for the inestimable boon the 
thanks of tlie young, and the blessings of 
the old, who are past all other ser\ices but 
prayers for the prosperity of their country, 
and blessings to those who promote it." 
Thomas Jefferson. 

" Learned institutions ought to be the fa- 
vorite objects with every free people ; they 
throw that light over the public mind \x.hich 
is the best security against crafty and dan- 
gerous encroachments on the ])ublic liberty. 
They multiply the educated individuals, from 
among whom the people may elect a due 
portion of their public agents of every de- 
scription, more especially of those who are 
to frame the laws : by the perspicuity, the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND TRANSITIONAL PERIOD. 



353 



consistency, and the stability, as well as by 
the justice and equal spirit of whicli, the great 
social purposes are to be answered." 

James Madison. 

" Moral, political and intellectual improve- 
ment, are duties assigned by the Author of 
our existence to social, no less than to indi- 
vidual man. For the fulfilment of these du- 
ties, governments are invested with power, 
and to the attainment of these ends, the ex- 
ercise of this power is a duty sacred and in- 
dispensable." John Quincy Ad.\ms. 

" For the purpose of promoting the happi- 
ress of the State, it is absolutely necessary 
that our government, which unites into one 
all the minds of the State, should possess in 
an eminent degree not only the understand- 
ing, the passions, and the will, but above all, 
the moral faculty and the conscience of an 
individual. Nothing can be politically right 
that is morally wrong ; and no necessity can 
ever sanctify a law that is contrary to equity. 
Virtue is the soul of a Republic. To pro- 
mote tliis, laws for the suppression of vice 
and immorality will be as ineffectual as the 
increase and enlargement of jails. There is 
but one method of preventing crime and of 
rendering a republican form of government 
durable ; and that is, by disseminating the 
seeds of virtue and Icnowledge through every 
part of the State, by means of proper modes 
and places of education ; and this can be 
done etfectuallv only by the interference and 
aid of the legislature. I am so deeply im- 
pressed with this oi)inion, that were this the 
last evening of my life, I would not only say to 
tlio asylum of my ancestors and my beloved 
native country, with the patriot of Venice, 
^ Esto perpetual but I would add, as the best 
proof of my afi'ection for her, my parting ad- 
vice to the guardians of her liberties, establish 
and support public schools in every part of 
the State." Benjamin Rush. 

" There is one object which I earnestly re- 
commend to your notice and patronage — I 
mean our institutions for the education of 
, youth. The importance of common schools 
is best estimated by the good effects of them 
where they most abound and are best regu- 
lated. Our ancestors have transmitted to us 
many excellent institutions, matured by the 
wisdom and experience of ages. Let them 
descend to posterity, accompanied with oth- 
ers, which, by promoting useful knowledge, 



and multiplying the blessings of social order, 
diffusing the influence of moral obligations, 
may be reputable to us, and beneficial to 



them." 



John Jay. 



" The first duty of government, and the 
surest evidence of good government, is the 
encouragement of education. A general dif- 
fusion of knowledge is the precursor and pro- 
tector of republican institutions, and in it we 
must confide as the conservative power that 
will watch over our liberties and guard them 
against fraud, intrigue, corruption and vio- 
lence. I consider the system of our Com- 
mon Schools as the palladium of our freedom, 
for no reasonable apprehension can be enter- 
tained of its subversion, as long as the great 
body of the people are enlightened by educa- 
tion. To increase the funds, to extend the 
benefits, and to remedy the defects of this 
excellent system, is worthy of your most de- 
lil.ierate attention. I can not recommend in 
terms too strong and impressive, as munifi- 
cent appropriations as the faculties of the 
State will authorize for all establishments 
connected with the interests of education, 
the exaltation of literature and science, and 
the improvement of the human mind." 

De Witt Clinton. 

" Tlie parent who sends his son into the 
world uneducated, defrauds the community 
of a lawful citizen, and bequeaths to it a 
nuisance." Chancellor Kent. 

In the discussions which have taken place 
in the press and in the halls of legislation 
on the subject, the experience of the New 
England States is constantly cited as an irre- 
futable argument in favor of public schools 
and universal education. The character and 
value of this example are admirably set forth 
by Daniel Webster: 

" In this particular. New England may be 
allowed to claim, I think, a merit of a pecu- 
liar character. She early adopted and has 
constantly maintained the principle, that it 
is the undoubted right, and the bounden 
duty of government, to provide for the in- 
struction of all youth. That which is else- 
where left to chance, or to charity, we secure 
by law. For the purpose of public instruc- 
tion, we hold everv man subject to taxation 
in proportion to his property, and we look 
not to the question, whether he himself have, 
or have not, children to be benefited by the 
education for which he pays. We regard it 



354 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



as a wise and liberal system of police, by 
■which property, and life, and the peace of 
society are secured. We seek to prevent in 
some measure the extension of the penal 
code, by inspiring a salutary and conserva- 
tive principle of virtue and of knowledge in 
an early age. We hope to ex'cite a feeling 
of respectability, and a sense of character, by 
enlarging the capacity, and increasing the 
sphere of intellectual enjoyment. By gen- 
eral instruction, we seek, as far as possible, 
to purify the whole moral atmosphere ; to 
keep good sentiments uppermost, and to turn 
the strong current of feeling and opinion, as 
well as the censures of the law, and the de- 
nunciations of religion, against immorality 
and crime. We liope for a security, beyond 
the law, and above the law, in the prevalence 
of enlightened and well-principled moral sen- 
timent. We hope to continue and prolong 
the time when, in (he villages and farm- 
houses of New England, there may be undis- 
turbed sleep within unbarred doors. And 
knowing that our government rests directly 
on the public will, tliat we may preserve it, 
we endeavor to give a safe and proper direc- 
tion to that public will. We do not, indeed, 
expect all men to be philosophers or states- 
men ; but we confidently trust, and our ex- 
pectation of the duration of our system of 
government rests on that trust, that by the 
diffusion of general knowledge and good and 
virtuous sentiments, the political fabric may 
be secure, as well against open violence and 
overthrow, as against the slow but sure un- 
dermining of licentiousness." 

The action of Congress, and of the early 
constitutional conventions of the several 
states, shows how nobly the public mind 
responded to these appeals. 

On the 17th of May, 1784, Mr. Jefferson, 
as chairman of a committee for that purpose, 
introduced into the old Congress an ordin- 
ance respecting the disposition of the public 
lands; but tins contained no reference to 
schools or education. On the 4th of March, 
1785, another ordinance was introduced — by 
whom does not appear on the journal — and 
on the 16th of the same month was recom- 
mitted to a committee consisting of Pierce 
Long of New Hampshire, Rufus King of 
Massachusetts, David Howell of Rhode Is- 
land, Wm. S. Johnson of Connecticut, R. R. 
Livingston of New York, Chai'les Stewart of 
New Jersey, Joseph Gardner of Pennsyl- 
vania, John Henry of Maryland, William 
Grayson of Virginia, Hugh Williamson of 



North Carolina, John Bull of South Caro- 
lina, and William Houston of Georgia. On 
the 14th of April following, this committee 
reported the ordinance — by whom drawn up 
no clue is given — which, after being perfect- 
ed, was passed the 20th of May folbswing, 
and became the foundation of the existing 
land system of the United States. 

By one of its provisions, the sixteenth sec- 
tion of every township was reserved ^'■for the 
maintenance of jiublic .schools ;" or, in other 
words, one section out of the thirty-six 
composing each township. The same pro- 
vision was incorporated in the large land 
sale, in 17S6, to the Ohio Company, and the 
f dlowing year in Judge Symmes' purchase. 
The celebrated ordinance of 1 787, for the gov- 
ernment of the territory north-west of the 
Ri\'er Ohio, and which confirmed the pro- 
visions of the land ordinance of 1785, pro- 
vides further, that, " Religion, Morality 
and Knowledge being necessary to good 
government and the happiness of mankind, 
Schools, and the means of Education, 
shall be forever encouraged." froul 
that day to the present, this noble policy 
has -been confirmed and extended, till its 
blessings now reach even the distant shores 
iof the Pacific, and fiftv millions of acres 
of the public domain have been set apart and 
consecrated to the high and ennobling pur- 
poses of education, together with five per 
cent, of the net proceeds of the sales of all 
pul)lic lands in each of the states and terri- 
tories in which they are situated. 

During this period individual beneficence 
and associated enterprise began to be direct- 
ed to the building up, furnishing, and main- 
taining libraries, colleges, academies, and 
scientific institutions. Societies for the pro- 
motion of science and literature, and schools 
f)r professif>n.'il training, were fi)unded and 
incorporated, and men of even moderate 
fortune began to feel the luxury of doing 
good, and to see that a wise endowment 
f)r the i-elief of suffering, the diffnsion of 
knowledge, the discovery of the laws of 
nature, the application of the principles of 
science to the useful arts, the conservation 
of good morals, and the spread of religious 
truth, is, in the best sense of the term, 
a good investment — an investment produc- 
tive of the greatest amount of the highest 
good both to the donor and his posterity, 
and which makes the residue of the prop- 
erty from which it is taken both more se- 
cure and more valuable. 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



355 



CHAPTER III. 

PROGRESS OF COMMON' OR ELEMENTARY 
SCHOOLS. 

To nnderstand the real progress wliicli has 
been made in the organization, administra- 
tion, and instruction of institutions of learn- 
ing in this country, and at the same time to 
appreciate the importance of many agencies 
and means of popular education besides 
schools, books and teachers, we must, as far 
as \vc can, look into the schools themselves, 
as they were fiftv and sixty years ago, and 
realize the circumstances under which some 
of the noblest characters of our history have 
been developed. As a contribution to our 
knowleilge of the early history of education 
in the United States, we bring together the 
testimony of several eminent men who were 
pupils or teachers in these schools, and who 
assisted in various ways in achieving their 
improvement. 

I 

LETTER FROM NOAH WEBSTER, LL.D. 
\ 

"New Haven, March 10th, 1840. 

" Mr. Barnard : Dear Sir — You desire 
me to give you some information as to, the 
mode of instruction in common schools when' 
I was young, or before the Revolution. I be- 
lieve you to be better atxiuainted with the 
methods of managing common schools, at 
the present time, than I am ; and I am not 
able to institute a very exact comparison 
between the old modes and the present. 
From what I know of the present schools in 
the country, I believe the principal dift'erence 
between the schools of former times and at 
present consists in the books and instruments 
used in the modern schools. 

" When I was young, the books used were 
chiefly or wholly Dihvorth's Spelling Books, 
the Psalter, Testament and Bible. No ge- 
ographv was studied before the publication 
of Dr. Morse's small books on that subject, 
about the year 1786 or 1787. No history 
was read, as far as ray knowledge extends, 
for there was no abridged history of the 
United States. Except the books above 
mentioned, no book for reading was used 
before the publication of the Thii-d Part of 
my Institute, in 1785. In some of the early 
editions of that book, I introduced short 
notices of the geography and history of the 
United States, and these led to more en- 
larged descriptions of the country. In 1788, 
at the request of Dr. Morse, I wrote an ac- 



count of the transactions in the United 
States, after the Revolution ; which account 
fills nearly twenty pages in the tirst volume 
of his octavo editions. 

" Before the Revolution, and for some 
years after, no slates were used in common 
schools ; all writing and the o]ierations in 
arithmetic were on paper. The teacher 
wrote the copies and gave the sums in 
arithmetic ; few or none of the pupils having 
anv books as a guide. Such was the cimdi- 
tion of the schools in which I received my 
early education. 

•' The introduction of 1113' Spelling Book, 
first published in 1783, produced a great 
change in the department of spelling ; and 
from the information 1 can gain, spelling was 
taught with more care and accuracy for 
twenty years or more after that period, tlian 
it has been since tlie introduction of multi- 
plied books and studies.* 

" No English grammar was generally 
taught in common schools when I was 
voung, except that in Dilworth, and that to 
no good purpose. In short, the instruction 
in schools was verv imperfect, in e\ery 
branch ; and if I am not misinformed, it is 
so to this day, in many branches. Indeed 
there is danger of running from one extreme 
to another, and instead of having too few 
books in our schools, we shall have too 
many. 

" I am, sir, with much respect, your friend 
and obedient servant, N. Webster." 

Dr. Webster, in an essay published in a 
New York paper in 1788, "On the Educa- 
tion of Youth in America," and in another 
essay published in Hartford, Ct., in 1790, 
" On Property, Government, Education, Re- 
ligion, Agriculture, etc., in the United 
States,"! while setting forth some of the 
cardinal doctrines of American education as 
now held, throws light on the condition of 
schools and colleges in different parts of the 
country at that date. 

" The first error that I would mention is a 



* " The general use of my Spelling Book in the 
United States has had a most extensive eQect in 
correcting the pronunciation of words, and giving 
uniformity to the language. Of this change, the 
present generation can have a very imperfect idea." 

f These essays were afterwards collected with 
others in a volume entitled "A Collection of Ks- 
says and Fugitive Writings, etc." By Noali Webster, 
Jr. iJoston: 1790. 



356 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



too general attention to the dead languasces, 
witli a neo;lcct of our own. . . . This 
neglect is so general that there is scarcely an 
institution to be found iu the country wliere 
the English tongue is taught regularly from 
its elements to its pure and reguhir construc- 
tion in prose and verse. Perhaps in most 
schools boys are taught the detinition of the 
parts of speech, and a few hard names which 
they do not understand, and which the 
teaclier seldom attempts to explain ; this is 
called learning grammar. . . . The prin- 
ciples of any science afford pleasure to the 
student who comprehends them. In order to 
render the study of language agreeable, the 
distinctions between words should be illus- 
trated by the diflerence in visible objects. 
Examples should be presented to the sen- 
ses which are the inlets of all our knowledge. 
" Another error which is frequent in 
America, is that a master undeitakes to 
teach man\' different branches in the same 
school. In new settlements, where the 
people are poor, and live in scattered situa- 
tions, the practice is often unavoidable. But 
in populous towns it must be considered as a 
defective plan of education. For suppose 
the teacher to be equally master of all the 
branches which ho attempts to teach, which 
seldom happens, yet his attention must be 
distracted with a multiplicity of objects, and 
consequently painful t<i himself, and not use- 
ful to his pupils. Add to this the continual 
interruptions which the students of one 
branch suffer from those of another, which 
must retard the progress of the whole school. 
It is a much more eligible plan to appropri- 
ate an apartment to each branch of educa- 
tion, with a teacher who makes that branch 
bis sole employment. . . . In<leed what 
is now called a liberal education disqualifies 
a man for business. Habits are formed in 
youth and by practice ; and as business is- 
in some measure mechanical, every person 
should be exercised in his employment in an 
early period of life, that his habits may be 
formed by the time his apprenticeship ex- 
pires. An education in a university inter- 
■feres with the forming of these habits, and 
perhaps forms opposite habits ; the mind 
may contract a fondness for ease, for plea- 
sure, or for books, which no efforts can over- 
come. An academic education, which should 
furnish the youth with some ideas of men 
and things, and leave time for an apprentice- 
ship before the age of tweuty-oue years. 



would be the most eligible for young men 

who are designed for active employments. 
* * * * * " * 

"But the principal defect in our plan of 
education in America is the want of good 
teachers in the academies and common 
schools. By goi>d teachers I mean men of 
unblemished reputation, and possessed of 
abilities competent to their station. That a 
man should be master of what he undertakes 
to teach is a point that will not be disputed ; 
and yet it is certain that abilities are often 
dispensed with, either through inattention 
or fear of expense. To those who em- 
ploy ignorant men to instruct their children, 
let me say, it is better for youth to have no 
education than to have a bad one ; for it is 
more difficult to eradicate habits than to im- 
press now ideas. The tender shrub is easily 
bent to any figure ; but the tree which has 
acquired its full growth resists all impres- 
sions. Yet abilities arc not the sole requi- 
sites. The instructors of youth ought, of all 
men, to be the most prudent, accomplished, 
agreeable, anil respectable. What avail a 
man's parts, if, while lie is 'the Aviscst and 
brightest,' he is the ' meanest of mankind !' 
The pernicious oftects of bad example on the 
minds of youth will probably be acknowl- 
edged ; but, with a view to improvement, it 
is indispensably necessary that tlie teachers 
should possess good breeding and agreeable 
manners. In order to give full elfcct to in- 
structions it is requisite that they should pro- 
ceed from a man who is loved and respected. 
But a low-bred clown or morose tyrant can 
command neither love nor respect ; and that 
pupil who has no motive for application to 
books but the fear of the rod, will not make 
a scholar." 

LETTER FROM REV. IIKMAN HUMPHREY, D.D. 

^•s^ '■ PlTTSFIELD, Deo. 12th, 1860. 

" Hon. Henry Barnard : Dear Sir — I 
am glad to hear from you, still engaged in 
the educational cause, and that you are in- 
tending to 'give a picturesque survey of the 
progress of our common schools, their equip- 
ment, studies and character.' If my early 
reciillections and experience will give you 
any little aid, 1 shall esteem myself hajip)' 
in affording it. 

" The first school I remember was kept a 
few weeks bv a maiden lady, called j\Iiss 
Faithy, in a barn. I was very young, as 
were most of the children. "\\'hat I learned 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



357 



then, if any thing, I have forgotten. Tliis 
was in the summer, of course. Tlie next was 
a scliool, so called, kept a month or two by 
a neiglibor of ours, wh<j was the best trout 
fisher, witli liis horse-hair line, in all those 
parts. He wrote a fiiir hand, as I remem- 
ber, on birch bark. What he taught us, but to 
say tue and due, has escaped my recollection. 
We had no school-house then in our dis- 
trict, and we met as much for play as any- 
thing, where w-e could find shelter. The 
next winter, another neighbor took us a few- 
weeks into one of the rooms of his own 
house, w here every thing but learning was go- 
ing on. Ilis speech bewrayed him of Rhode 
Island origin, and whatever he knew, he cer- 
tainly could never have had much if any 
chance of being whipped in school wlien he 
was a boy. 1 Vemember his tremendous 
stamp when we got noisy in school-time, and 
that is all. This, however, is not a fair 
sample of school accommodations in my 
boyhood ; and I had a better chance for two 
or three winters afterward. 

" School Houses. — Most of the other 
districts in the town had school-houses, but 
not all. The first winter that I kept school 
myself, was in a room next to the kitchen in 
a small private house. Some of the school- 
houses were better than others ; but none of 
them in that or the adjoining towns were 
convenient or even comfortable. The\- were 
rather juvenile p' nit. ntiaries, than attractive 
accotumodations fir stud\-. They were too 
small, and low from the ceiling to the floor, 
and the calculation of the builders seemed 
to have been, to decide into how small a 
space the children could be crowded, from 
the fire-]ilace till the room was well jiacked. 
Not unirequently sixty or seventy scholars 
were daily shut up six hours, w-here there 
was hardly room for thirty. The school- 
houses were square, w-ith a very narrow en- 
try, and a large fire-place on the side near 
the door. There were no stoves then. They 
were generally roughly clapboarded, but 
never painted. They had writing-desks, or 
rather, long boards for writing, on two or 
three sides, next to the wall. The benches 
w-ere all loose ; some fif them boards, with 
slabs from the saw-mill, standing on four 
legs, two at each end. Some were a little 
lower than the rest, but many of the smaller 
children had to sit all day with their legs 
dangling between the bench and the floor. 
Poor little things! nodding and trying to 
keep their balance on the slabs, without any 



backs to lean against, how I pity them to 
this day. In the coldest weather, it was 
hard to tell which was the most difficult, to 
keep from roasting or freezing. For thcise 
nearest to the fire it was sweltering hot, 
while the ink was freezing in the pens on 
the back side of the room. ' Master, I am 
too hot' — ' Master, may I go to the fire V 
That was the style of address in those days, 
and we did our best to be masters, anyhow. 

" All the school-houses that I remember 
stood close by the travelled road, without 
any play-grounds or enclosures whatever. 
If there were any shade trees planted, or left 
of spontaneous growth, I have forgotten 
them. And in most cases, there were no 
outside acconnnodations, even the most 
necessary for a moment's occasion. I now 
marvel at it, but so it was. In that respect, 
certainly, the days of the children are better 
than the days of their fathers were. 

" For the most part, the winter schools 
w-ere miserably supplied with wood. I kept 
school myself in three towns, and in but one 
of the schools was there any wood-shed w hat- 
ever ; and no wood was got up and seasoned 
in summer against winter. Most of what 
we used was standing in the forests A\hen 
the school began, and was cut and brought 
sled length by the fanners in proportion to 
the number of scholars which they sent. 
Not exactly that, either; for sometimes, 
when we went to the school-house in a cold 
morning, there w-as no wiocl there. Some- 
body had neglected to bring his load, and 
we were obliged to adjourn over to the 
next day. In many cases, the understand- 
ing was, that the larger boys must cut the 
wood as it was wanted. It always lay in 
the snow, and sometimes the bo3's were sent 
to dig it out in school-time, and bring it in, 
all wet and green as it was, to keep us from 
freezing. That was the fuel to make fires 
with in the morning, when the thermometer 
was below zero, and how the little children 
cried with the cold, when the}' came almost 
frozen, and found no fire burning; nothing 
but one or two boys blowing and keeping 
themselves warm as well as they could, by 
exercise, in trying to kindle it. Such were 
our school-houses and their disacconnnoda- 
tions. 

" Branches Taught in the Schools. — ■ 
They were reading, spelling, and wilting, 
besides the A Ij C's to children scarcely four 
years old, who ought to have been at home 
with their mothers. They were called up 



358 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



twice a day by tlie master pointing witli his 
penknife ' Wiiat's that ?' 'A.' 'What's that?' 
'D; 'No, it's B; 'What's that?' 'N.' 'No, 
you careless boy, it's C ;' and so down to 
ezand. 'Go to your seat, you will never learn 
your lesson in the world, at this rate.' Our 
school-books were the Bible, ' Webster's 
Spelling Book,' and ' Third Part,' mainly. 
One or two others were found in some 
schools for the reading classes. CTrammar 
was hardly taught at all in any of them, and 
that little was confined almost entirely to 
C(Mnmitting and reciting the rules. Parsing 
was one of the occult sciences in my day. 
We had some few lessons in geography, by 
qtiestions and answers, but no maps, no 
globes ; and as for black-boards, such a 
thing was never thought of till long after. 
Cliildren's reading and picture books, we 
Lad none ; the fables in Webster's Spelling 
Book came nearest to it. Arithmetic was 
hardly taught at all in the day schools. As a 
substitute, there were some evening schools 
in most of the districts. Spelling was one 
of the leading daily exercises in all the 
classes, and it was better, a good deal, I 
think, than it is now. 

"The winter schools w-ere commonly kept 
about three months ; in some favored dis- 
tricts four, but rai'ely as long. As none of 
what are now called the higher branches 
were taught beyond the merest elements, 
parents generally thonght that three or four 
months was enough. There were no winter 
select schools for the young above the age of 
sixteen or seventeen, as I remember, till af- 
ter I retired from the profession, such as it 
then was. There may have been liere and 
there an academy, in some parts of the 
state ; but not one within the range of my 
acquaintance. 

"Our Spring Exiiiritions. — At the close 
of the winter schools we had what we used 
to call our Quarter-days, when the schools 
carae together in the meeting-house, with a 
large congregation of parents and friends. 
The public exercises were reading, spelling, 
and speaking single pieces, and dialogues. 
Some of the dialogues we wrote ourselves, 
for our own scliools. Most of them were 
certainly very flat ; but they brought down 
the house, and answered the purpose as well 
as any we could pick up. We thought 
then, as I think now, that those quarter- 
days were of great advantage to the scho(3ls. 
The anticipation of them kept up an interest 
all winter, and stimulated both teachers and 



scholars to do their best in the way of prep- 
aration. As the time approached, we had 
evening schools for reading and rehearsing 
the dialogues, so as t<i be sure not to fall be- 
hind in the exhibitions. None of our col- 
lege commencements are now looked forward 
to with gi'eater interest than were those ver- 
nal annivei'saries. 

"Another thing that helped us a good deal 
was the occasional afternoon visits of the 
parents and other friends of the schools. 
They came in by invitation, or whenever 
they chose, and their visits always did us 
good. 

" Still another practice we found to be quite 
stimulating and useful. We had a mutual 
understanding that, without giving anv no- 
tice, any teacher might dismiss his own 
school fcir an afternoon, and, taking along 
with him some of the older boys, call in to 
see how his brother teacher got along in the 
next or some other district. The ariange- 
ment worked well. We made speeches, 
complimented one another as politely as cir- 
cumstances W(juld allow, and went home re- 
solved not to fall behind the best of them. 

"In the school, we made up our minds to 
be masters, in fact as well as in name. 
Though of late years I have not had \ery 
good advantages for making the comparison, 
I believe the schools were quite as well gov- 
erned sixty years ago as they are now. 
Among other things which we did to main- 
tain our authority, was to go out now and 
then and have a snowball skirmish with the 
boys, and though we commonly got beat, 
nothing we could do was more effectual. 

" Corporal punishments, I believe, were 
sparingly resorted to in most of our schools. 
Though I myself believed in Solomon fully, 
I never flogged but one scholar in my life, 
though I shook the mischief out of a great 
many. I think Sam was of the opinion, in 
the premises, that the rod was laid on rather 
smartly, for I understood he promised, 
some day, to pay me in kind, which, how- 
ever, I suppose he never found it quite con- 
venient to undertake. 

"We schoolmasters within convenient dis- 
tances used to meet in the winter evenings 
for mutual improvement, which, to own the 
truth, we needed a good deal. Our regular 
exercises were reading for criticisms, report- 
ing how we were getting along, and con- 
versing upon the best method of managing 
our schools. This was very profitable, as 
we thought, to us all. 



PllOGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



359 



" In those ancient times, it was an almost 
universal custom in the rural towns of Con- 
necticut, for the teachers to board round, 
and upon the whole I liked it. It was a 
good school for us. By goinc; into all the 
families wo learned a great deal. We were 
looked upon as having more in our heads 
than we could fairly claim, and they always 
kept us on the best they had. It is true, 
the cooking was not always the best, nor 
sheets always so clean as to guard against 
infection ; and if, perchance, it sometimes 
broke out, we knew how to cure it. 

" Our wages were generally screwed down 
to the lowest notch by the school commit- 
tees, under the instruction of the districts. 
For my first campaign I received seven dol- 
lars a month and board ; for the next, nine ; 
for the third, ten; and I think I ne\'er went 
above thirteen till quite the last of my teach- 
ing before I went to collerje. As I had 
some reputation iu that line, I suppose I was 
as well paid as ni}' brethren. 

" With regard to the summer schools of 
that period, 1 have very little to say. They 
were kept by females upon very low wages, 
about as much a week as they could earn in 
families by spinning or wea\ing. Thej- took 
good care of the little children, and taught 
them as well as they could. 

"As we had no grammar schools in which 
the languages were taught, we most of us 
fitted for college with our ministers, who, 
though not very fresh fi'ora their classics, 
did what they could to help us. 

" Finally, you ask me whether thei-o were 
any schools for young ladies in those old 
times ? There may possibly ha\e been in 
two or three of the largest towns, but the 
only one of which I had any knowledge was 
in Litchfield, kept by Miss Pierce, and I am 
not quite sure that her school was estab- 
lished as early as your question contem- 
plates. 

" These, dear sir, are some of my oU re- 
membrances, which 3'ou may make such use 
of as you please. 

" Itcspectfully yours, 

" II. Humphrey." 

LETTEIl FROM HON. JOSEPH T. BUCKINGH.IM. 

"Cambridge, Dec. 10th, 1S60. 

" Henry Barnard, Esq. : My Bear Sir 
— I cheerfully comply with your request to 
give you some account of the schools and 
the educational books that were in use about 



the close of the last century. I never had 
the privilege of attending any higher insti- 
tution of learning than the common district 
schools of Connecticut, in the towai of Wind- 
ham ; but I have no doubt that those of that 
town were a fair type of many others, prob- 
ably most of them, except such as woi-e kept 
in the larger towns or thickly populated vil- 
lages. 

"According to the best of mv remem- 
brance, my school-days began in the sprino- 
of 1783. The school to which I was admit- 
ted was kept by a lady, and, like most of the 
district schools, was kept only for the younger 
pupils, and was open for two months during 
the summer season. The upper class in the 
school was formed entirely of females — such 
as could read in the Bible. The lower classes 
read in spelling books and the New England 
rrimer. The spelling books, of which there 
were not, probably, more than three or four 
in the school, I believe were all by Dilworth, 
and were much worn and defaced, having 
been a sort of heir-loom in the flunilies of 
the pupils. The teacher of this school was 
the daughter of the minister of tlie parish. 
She kept a rod hanging on the wall behind 
her chair and a ferule on the table by her 
side ; but I do not recollect that she used 
either of them. The girls wdio constituted 
the first class were required, every Monday 
morning, to repeat the text or texts of the 
preceding day's discourse, stating the book, 
chapter, and verse whence it was taken. The 
next summer, 1784, the same lady, or one of 
her sisters, kept school in the same district. 
The same books were in use, and there was 
the same routine of exercises. It was kept 
on the first tloor of the steeple. The lower 
end of the bell-rope lay in a coil in the centre 
of the floor. The discipline was so strict, 
that no one, however mischievously disposed, 
I believu ever thought of taking hold of it, 
though it was something of an incumlirance. 
I was then four years and a half old, and had 
learned b;/ heart nearly all the reading lessons 
in the I'rimer, and much of the Westminster 
Catechism, which was taught as the closing 
exercise every Saturday. But justice to one 
of the best of mothers requires that I should 
say that much the greater part of the im- 
provement I had made was acquired from 
her careful instruction. 

"In December, 1784, the month in which 
T was five years old, I attended, for a few 
days, the school kept by a master — I do not 
remember his name. When asked up for 



360 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



examination, he asked me if I could read 
without spelling ? I said I could read in the 
Bible. He hesitated a moment, and then 
placed me on one of the benches, opened a 
Bible at the fifth chapter of Acts, and asked 
me to read. I read ten or a dozen verses — 
being the account of Ananias and his wife 
falling dead before Peter for telling a lie. 
Whether he had any suspicion that I had 
told a falsehood, and took this method to 
reprove me, I know not; but he dismissed 
me with approbation. lie used his ferule on 
the hands of some of the elder boys ; but 
the severest punishment that he inflicted for 
any violation of order, was compelling a boy 
who had brought into the school the breast- 
bone of a chicken, (commonly called the 
xoislmig-hone,) and with which he had excited 
some noise among the pupils, to stand on 
one of the benches and wear the bone on 
his nose till the school was dismissed. I 
am strongly impressed with the belief that 
Webster's spelling book made its first ap- 
pearance in the schools during this winter. 
The following summer I attended, but very 
irregularly, a school kept as before in the 
steeple of the meeting-house,* and had a 
copy of Webster. Whether there were any 
other copies in the school or not I am not 
able to say. The next two winters, circum- 
stances winch I have no desire to recall, and 
which 3'ou would not care to be acquainted 
with, prevented my attending any school. 
In the summer of 1786, these same circum- 
stances caused me to be removed to another 
district three miles distant from the central 
village. The farmer with whom I lived 
thought I could read well enough, and as 
the district sohool-housc was a mile or more 
distant, he considered it unnecessary to send 
me that distance in the winter, merely to 
read; and consequently for two or tlircc 
winters I went to school not more tlian eight 
or ten days in each. At length, in 1790 or 
1791, it was thought I was old enough to 
learn to cipher, and accordingly was per- 
mitted to go to school more constantly. I 
told the master I wanted to learu to cipher. 
He set me a sum in simple addition — five 
cohimns of figures, and six figures in each 
column. All the instruction ho gave me 
was — add the figures in the first column, 
carry one for every ten, and set the overplus 
down under the column. I supposed he 
meant by the first column the left hand 



* Tills was the last time I went to a summer school. 



column ; but what he meant by carrying one 
for every ten ^^■as as much a mystery as 
Samson's riddle was to the Philistines. 
1 worried my brains an hour or two, and 
showed the master the figures I had made. 
You may judge what the amount was, when 
the columns were added from left to riglit. 
The master frowned and repeated his former 
instruction — add up the column on the right, 
carry one for every ten, and set down the 
remainder. Two or three afternoons (I did 
not go to school in the morning) were spent 
in this way, when I begged to be excused 
from learning to cipher, and the old gentle- 
man with whom I lived tln^ught it was time 
wasted ; and if I attended the school any 
further at that time, reading and spelling, 
and a little writing were all that was taught. 
The next winter there was a teacher more 
communicative and better fitted for his place, 
and under him some progress was made in 
arithmetic, and I made a tolerable acquisi- 
tion in the first four rules, according to Dil- 
worth's Schoolmaster's Assistant, of which 
the teacher and one of the eldest boys had 
each a copy. The two following winters, 
1794 and 1795, I mastered all the rules and 
examples in the first part of Dilworth ; that 
is, through the various cliapters of Rule of 
Three, Practice, Fellowship, Interest, etc. 
etc., to Geometrical Progression and Per- 
mutation. 

" In our district, the books were of rather 
a miscellaneous character, such .is had been 
in families perhaps half a century or more. 
My belief is that Webster's Spelling Book 
was not in general use before 1790 or 1791, 
The Bible was read by the first class in the 
morning, always, and generally in the after- 
noon before the closing exercise, which was 
always a lesson in spelling, and this was per- 
formed by all the pupils who were sufficient- 
ly advanced to pronounce distinctly words 
of more than one syllabic. It was the cus- 
tom for all such pupils to stand together as 
one class, and with one voice to read a column 
or two of the tables for spelling. The mas- 
ter gave the signal to begin, and nil united 
to read, letter by letter, pronouncing each 
syllable by itself, and adding it to the pre- 
ceding one till the word was complete. Thus, 
a-d ad, m-i ini, admi, r-a ra, adinira, t-i-o-n 
shun, admiration. This mode of reading 
was exceedingly exciting, and, in my humble 
judgment, exceedingly useful ; as it required 
and taught deliberate and distinct articula- 
tion, and inspired the j'oungest with a desire 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



361 



to equal the older ones. It is true the voices 
■would not all be in perfect unison ; but after 
a little practice they began to assimilate. I 
have heard a class of thirty or more read 
column after column in tliis manner, Avith 
scarcely a perceptible variation from the 
proper pitch of voice. When the lesson had 
been thus read, the books were closed, and 
the words given out for spelling. If one was 
misspelt, it passed on to the next, and the 
next pupil in order, and so on till it was 
spelt correctl}-. Then the pupil who liad 
spelt correctly went up in the class above tiie 
one who had misspelt. It was also a prac- 
tice, when one was absent from tliis exercise 
in spelling, that he should stand .at the foot 
of the class when he returned. Another of 
our customs was to choose sides to spell once 
or twice a weelc. The words to be spelt went 
from side to side ; and at the conclusion, the 
side which beat (spelt the most words) were 
permitted to leave the schoolroom, preceding 
the other side, who had to sweep the room 
and build the fires the next morning. These 
customs prevalent sixty and seventy years 
ago excited enmlation, and emulation pro- 
duced improvement. A revival of them, I 
have no doubt, would be advantageous in 
the common schools, especially where pupils 
are required to spell words given out indis- 
criminately from a reading book or diction- 
ary. There was not, to my knowledge, any 
reading book proper, except the Bible, till 
Webster's Third I5ook, so called, came out 
about 1793 or 1791. A new edition of his 
spelling book furnished some new matter for 
reading — selections from the New Testament, 
a chapter of Proverbs, and a set of Tables, 
etc.; but none of these operated to the exclu- 
sion of the Bible. 

" In the family in which I lived there were 
three or four old spelling books, which I 
presume had been used in schools before the 
period of my remembrance. One of these 
was a book of less than a hundred pages, 
printed in London, I think in 1690. Tlie 
words were arranged in tables according to 
syllables. The terminations tion, sion, cial, 
tial, etc., were all divided and printed as two 
distinct syllables. (And I believe this mode 
of printing is still continued in England. It 
was in the time of Lindley ilurray, as may 
be seen in liis spelling bool;, printed about 
forty years ago.) This spelling book con- 
tained a numeration table wliich, from a sin- 
gular feature, early attracted my attention. 



Every figure was 9, and the whole formed a 
curious triangle. Thus : 

9 
99 
999 and so on to 
the last, 999,999,999 

" Another spelling book in our farmer's 
library was by Daniel Penning, printed in 
London. It contained a short treatise on 
grammar, on which I sometimes exercised 
my memory, but understood not one of its 
principles. We had also a Dilworth, con- 
taining certain fables — such as Jupiter and 
the Frogs, the Romish Priest and the Jester, 
Hercules and the Wagoner, etc., etc. An- 
other still we had, the autlior of which I 
never knew, as several pages had been lost 
from the beginning. It had a p.age of prov- 
erbs, one of which — ' a cat ni.av look upon a 
king' — occasioned me much thoughtful ex- 
ercise. It also had an appropriate collection 
of couplets for writing-copies, of which the 
only one I recollect was this : 

" ' X things a penman should have near at hand — 
Pajjer, pounce, pen, ink, linife, hone, rule, plum- 
met, wax, sand.' 

But that which rendered the book so mem- 
orable as never to be forgotten, was the as- 
tonishing, if not terrific, word of fourteen 
syllables — ' Ho-no-ri-fi-ca-bi-li-tu-di-ni-tu-ti- 
bus-que' — asserted to be the longest word in 
the English language. 

■'In the winter of 1793-4, we had for a 
teacher ERASTtis Ripley, who was an un- 
der-graduate of Yale College. I mention his 
name, because I cannot look back upon the 
time when I had the advantage of his in- 
struction without a feeling of reverence for 
the man and respect for the teacher. I 
learned more from him than all the school- 
masters I had been under. He took more 
pains to instruct us in reading than all his 
predecessors within my knowledge. He 
opened the school every morning with pray- 
er — which had not been practised in our 
district. lie was preparing for the ministry, 
and was afterwards settled at Canterbury, I 
think. He was highly esteemed by all the 
people of the district, and gave such an im- 
petus to the ambition of the pupils, that a 
subscription was made to employ him an ex- 
tra month after the usual term of the school 
had expired. 

" Mr. Ripley was succeeded in the winter 
of 1794-5 by a young man from Lebanon 
by the name of Tisdale, under whom my 



362 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



school days were finislicd ; and here I may 
bring this long and, I fear, very uninterestinix 
letter to a close. Hoping this may serve the 
purpose for which you suggested the writ 
ing of it, and wishing you all the success 
you can desire in the noble cause in which 
you arc engaged, 

" I am, very respectfully 
"And truly yours, 

"Joseph T. Buckingham." 

letter from rev. eliphalet nott, d.d., 
dated jan., 1861. 

" When I was a boy, seventy-five or eighty 
years ago, in good old Puritan Connecticut, 
it was felt as a practical maxim ' that to 
spare the rod was to spoil the child ;' and 
on this maxim the pedagogue acted in the 
school-room, and ajiplied it for every offence, 
real or imaginary ; and for having been 
whipped at school by the relentless master, 
the unforttmate tyro was often whipped at 
home by his no less relentless father; so 
that between the two relentless executors of 
justice among the Ptnitan fathers, few 
children, I believe, were spoiled by the with- 
holding of this orthodox discipline. For 
myself, I can say (and I do not think I was 
wayward beyond the average of district 
school-boys) that, in addition to warnings, 
and admonitions daily, if I was not whipped 
more than three times a week, I considered 
myself for the time peculiarly fortunate. 

" Being of a contemplative and forbearing 
disposition, this discipline of the rod became 
peculiarly irksome to me, and, as I thought, 
unjustifiable; and I formed a resolution, if I 
lived to be a man, I would not be like other 
men in regard to their treatment of children. 

" Through the mercy of God I did live to 
be a man, and when at the age of eighteen 
I became installed as master of a district 
school in the eastern part of Franklin, Con- 
necticut — a school where rebellious spirits 
had previously asserted their rights, and 
been subdued or driven from the school 
by the use of the rod — nothing daunted, 
I made up my mind to substitute in my 
school moial motives in the place of the 
rod; and I frankly toM my assembled pu- 
pils so, and that if they would have the 
generosity to second my etlorts, thev would 
secure to themselves and furnish me and 
their parents the happiness which is the 
heaven-appointed reward of well-doing. 

" The school responded to my ajtpeal, and 



thereafter, though we played and gambolled 
together as equals in play-hours, and on 
Saturday afternoons, wliicli were also de- 
voted to play, the moment we entered the 
school-room, a subordination and application 
to study was obser\able, that became matter 
of remark and admiration among the in- 
habitants of the district, the fame of which 
success extended to other districts, and even 
to adjoining towns, so that the examination 
and exhibition with which the school closed 
the ensuing spring, called together clergymen 
and other officials from places quite lemote. 

" This success brought me to the knowl- 
edge of the trustees of the Plainfield Acad- 
emy, one of the most important, if not at 
the time the most important academy in the 
state, and I was by a unanimous \'ote ap- 
pointed pi-ineijial of said academy — an in- 
stitution in which several hundred children 
of both sexes were in the same building 
successfully taught and governed, for years, 
without the use of the rod, it being at that 
time the prevailing usage, both in district 
schools and academies, for the two sexes to 
be taught in the same room, and subjected 
to the same form of government. 

" This successful experiment in the use of 
moral suasion, and other kindred and kindly 
influences, in place of the rod, led to other 
and kindred experiments, until, wdiether for 
the better or the worse, the rod at length 
came to occupy a very subordinate place in 
the system of sclwol education. 

" In those days, education in common 
schools was not so diffusive as at the present 
day ; but quite as thorough, if not more so. 
The same remark may be .applied to the 
higher .schools or academies — the whole field 
of natural science being at that time, for the 
most part, unexplored ; but mathematics and 
classics were zealously taught. In evidence 
of this, though inferior in attainments to 
some of my classmates, I published success- 
fully myself an almanac when about twenty- 
one years of age. 

" As the rod in those days was the prin- 
cipal instrument in common school edu- 
cation, so when I was afterward called to 
Union College, fines, suspensions, and ex- 
pulsions were the principal instruments of 
collegiate government. The faculty sat in 
their robes as a court, caused t)flenders to be 
brought before them, examined witnesses, 
heard defences, and pronounced sentences 
with the solemnity of other courts of justice ; 
and thouii;!! Union Collecje had on its cata- 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



363 



logue but a ver}' dimimiti\e number of stu- 
dents, the sitting of the faculty as a court 
occupied no inconsiderable part of the time 
of its president and professors. 

" Soon after I became connected with 
the college as its president, a case of disci- 
pline occurred which led to the trial and is- 
sued in the expulsion of a student belong- 
ing to a very respectable family in the city 
of Albany. According to the charter of 
Union College, the sentence of the faculty is 
not final. An appeal can be taken to the 
board of trustees, and in the case in ques- 
tion an appeal was taken, and, after keeping 
college in confusion for months, by the dif- 
ferent hearings of the case, the board re- 
versed the decision of the faculty, and re- 
stored the young man. On the event of this 
restoration, I informed them that they should 
never, during my administration, have occa- 
sion to review another case of discipline by 
the faculty ; and during the fifty-six years 
which have since passed away, I have kept 
my word ; and though we have been less 
successful in oiu' system of parental govern- 
ment than could be wished, we have had no 
rebellions, and it is conceded, I believe gen- 
erall}', that (juite as large a proportion of 
our young men have succeeded in after life 
as of any other collegiate institution in the 
Union." 

RECOLLECTIONS OF PETER PARLEY. 

The following picture of the District 
School as it was a few years later, in the 
town of Ridgetield,* one of the most ad- 
vanced agricultural communities of Connec- 



* " Nearly all tlio iDhabitants of Ridgcfleld were 
farmers, with the few mechanics that were neces- 
sary to carry on society in a somewhat primeval 
state. Even the persons not professionally devoted 
to agriculture, had each his farm, or at least his gar- 
den and homo lot, with his pigs, poultry, and cattle. 
The population might ha\c been 1200, comprising 
200 families. All could read and write, but in jioint 
of fact, beyond the Almanac and ■V\'atts' Psalms and 
Hymns, their literary acquirements had little scope. 
There were, I think", four newspapers, all weekly, 
publislied in the state: one at Hartford, one at New 
London, one at New Ilavcn, and one at Litchfield. 
There were, however, not more than throe sub- 
scribers to all these in our village, "rt'e had, liow- 
evor, a public library of some 200 volumes, and 
what was of equal consequence — the town was on 
the road which was then the great thoroughfare, 
connecting Boston with New York, and hence it 
had mean's of intelligence from travellers constantly 
passing through the place, which kept it up with 
the march of events." 



ticut, is from the pen of Peter Parley, in his 
" Recollections of a Lifetime^ 

" About three fourths of a mile from my 
father's house, on the winding road to Lower 
Salem, which bore the name of West Lane, 
was the school-house where I took my first 
lessons, and received the foundations of my 
very slender education. I have since been 
sometimes asked where I graduated : my 
reply has always been, ' At West Lane.' Gen- 
erally speaking, this has ended the inquiry, 
whether because my interlocutors have con- 
founded this venerable institution with ' Lane 
Seminary,' or have not thought it worth while 
to risk an exposure of their ignorance as to 
the college in which I was educated, I am 
unable to say. 

" The site of the school-house was a trian- 
gular piece of land, measuring perliaps a 
rood in extent, and lying, accordiug to the 
custom of those days, at the meeting of four 
roads. The ground hereabouts — as every- 
where else in Pvidgelield — was exceedingly 
stony, and in making the pathway the stones 
had been thrown out right and loft, and 
there remained in heaps on either side, from 
generation to generation. All round was 
bleak and desolate. Loose, squat stone 
walls, with iimumerable breaches, inclosed 
adjacent fields. A few tufts of elder, with 
here and there a patch of briers and poke- 
weed, flourished in the gravelly soil. Not a 
tree, liowever, remained, save an aged chest' 
nut, at the western angle of the space. This 
certainly had not been spared for shade or 
ornament, but probably because it wotdd 
have cost too much labor to cut it down, for 
it was of ample girth. At all events it was 
the oasis in our desert during summer ; and 
in autumn, as the burrs disclosed its fruit, 
it resembled a besieged city. The boys, 
like so many catapults, hurled at it stones 
and sticks, until every nut liad capitulated. 

" Two houses only were at liand : one, sur- 
rounded by an ample barn, a teeming or- 
chard, and an enoraious wood-pile, belonged 
to Granthcr Baldwin ; the other was the 
property of 'Old Chich-cs-ter,' an uncouth, 
unsocial being, whom everybody for some 
reason or other seemed to despise and shun. 
His house was of stone and of one story. 
He had a cow, which every year had a calf. 
He had a wife — filthy, uncombed, and vague- 
ly reported to have been brouglit from the 
old country. This is about the whole his- 
tory of the man, so far as it is written in 
the authentic traditions of the parish. His 



364 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



premises, an acre in extent, consisted of a 
tongue of land lietween two of the converg- 
ing roads. No boy, that I ever heard of, 
ventured to cast a stone or to make an in- 
cursion into this territory, though it lay 
close to the school-house. I liave often, in 
passing, peeped timidly over the walls, and 
caught glimpses of a stout man with a drab 
coat, drab breeches, and drab gaiters, glazed 
with ancient grease and long abrasion, prowl- 
ing about the house ; but never did I dis- 
cover him outside of his own dominion. I 
know it was darkly intimated that he had 
been a tory, and was tarred and feathered in 
the revolutionary war, but as to the rest he 
was a perfect myth. Granther Baldwin was 
a character no less marked, but I must re- 
serve [lis picture for a subsequent letter. 

"The school-house itself consisted of rough, 
unpainted clapboards, upon a wooden frame. 
It was plastered within, and contained two 
apartments — a little entr}-, taken out of a 
corner for a wardrobe, and the school-room 
proper. The chinmey was of stone, and 
pointed with mortar, which, by the way, 
had been dug into a honeycomb by uneasy 
and enterprising penknives. The fireplace 
was six feet wide and four feet deep. The 
flue was so ample and so perpendicular, that 
the rain, sleet, and snow fell direct to the 
hearth. In winter, the battle for life with 
green fizzling fuel, which was brought in 
sled lengths and cut up by the scholars, was 
a stern one. Not unfrequently, the wood, 
gushing with sap as it was, chanced to be 
out, and as there was no living without fire, 
the thermometer being ten or twenty degrees 
below zero, the school was dismissed, where- 
at all the scholars rejoiced aloud, not having 
the fear of the schoolmaster before their 
eyes. 

" It was the custom at this place to have a 
woman's school in the summer months, and 
this was attended only by young children. 
It was, in fact, what we now call a primary 
or infant school. In winter, a man was 
employed as teacher, and then the girls and 
boys of the neighborhood, up to the ago of 
eighteen, or even twenty, were among the 
pupils. It was not uncommon, at this sea- 
son, to have forty scholars crowded into this 
little building. 

" I was about six years old when I first 
went to school. My teacher was Aunt De- 
light, that is. Delight Benedict, a maiden 
lady of fifty, short and bent, of sallow com- 
plexion and solemn aspect. I remember the 



first day with perfect distinctness. I went 
alone — for I was familiar with the road, it 
being that which passed by our old house. 
I carried a little basket, with bread and 
butter within, for my dinner, the same being 
covered over with a white cloth. When I 
had proceeded about half way, I lifted the 
cover, and debated whether I would not eat 
my dinner then. I believe it was a sense 
of duty only that prevented my doing so, 
for in those happy days I always had a 
keen appetite. Bread and butter were tlien 
infinitely superior to imtc de foie r/ras now; 
but still, thanks to my training, I had also a 
conscience. As my mother had given me 
the food for dinner, I did not think it right 
to convert it into lunch, even though I was 
strongly tempted. 

" I think we had seventeen scholars — boys 
and girls — mostly of my own age. Among 
them were some of my after companions. I 
have since met several of them — one at 
Savannah, and two at Mobile, respectably 
established, and with families around them. 
Some remain, and are now among the gray 
old men of the town ; the names of others I 
have seen inscribed on the tombstones of 
tlicir native village. And the rest^where 
arc they ? 

" The school being organized, we were all 
seated upon benches, made of what were 
called slabs — that is, boards having the ex- 
terior or rounded part of the log on one 
side : as they were useless for other purposes, 
those were converted into school-benches, 
the rounded part down. They had each 
four supports, consisting of straddling wood- 
en legs, set into auger holes. Our own legs 
swayed in 'the air, for they were too short to 
touch the floor. Oh, what an awe fell over 
me, when we were all seated and silence 
reigned around ! 

" The children were called up, one by one, 
to Aunt Delight, who sat on a low chair, 
and required each, as a preliminary, to make 
his manners, consisting of a small sudden 
nod or jerk of the head. She then placed 
the spelling-book — which was Dilworth's — 
before the pupil, and with a buck-handled 
penknife pointed, one by one, to the letters 
of the alphabet, saying, ' What's that ?' If 
the child knew liis "letters the ' What's that ?' 
very soon ran on thus : 

'"What's that?' 

" ' A.' 

" ' 'Stha-a-t ?' 

" ' B.' 



PROGRESS or COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



365 



" ' Sna-a-a-t f 

'"C 

" ' Sna-a-a-t V 

" ' Sna-a-a-t V 

" ' e; &c. 

" I looked upon these operations witli in- 
tense curiosity and no small respect, until 
my own turn came. I went up to the scliool- 
imistress with some emotion, and when she 
s:iid, rather spitefully, as I thought, ' ilake 
yiiur obeisance!' my little intellects all fled 
a way, and I did nothing. Haying \vaited a 
second, gazing at me with indignation, she 
laid her hand on the top of my head, and 
gave it a jerk which made my teeth clash. 
1 belicyc I bit my tongue a little; at all 
(■vents, my sense of dignity was offended, 
:ind when she pointed to A, and asked what 
it was, it swam before me dim and hazy, 
and as big as a full moon. She repeated the 
question, but I was doggedly silent. Again, 
a third time, she said, ' What's that ?' I 
replied: 'Why don't you tell me what it 
is? I didn't come here to learn you your 
letters !' I liaye not the slightest remem- 
brance of this, for my brains were all a-wool- 
gathering ; but as Aunt Delight aflirmed it 
to be a fact, and it passed into tradition, I 
put it in. I may have told this story some 
years ago in one of my books, imputing it 
to a fictitious hero, yet this is its true origin, 
according to my recollection. 

"What immediately followed I do not 
clearly remember, but one result is distinct- 
ly traced in my memory. In the evening 
of this eventful day, the school-mistress paid 
my parents a visit, and recounted to their 
astonished ears this, my awful contempt of 
authority. My father, after hearing the 
story, got up and went away; but my 
mother, who was a careful disciplinarian, 
told mc not to do so again 1 I always had 
a suspicion that both of them smiled on one 
side of their faces, even while they seemed 
to sj-mpathizc with the old petticoat and 
penknife pedagogue, on the other; still I 
do not aflirm it, for I am bound to say, of 
both my parents, that I never knew them, 
even in trifles, say one thing while they 
meant another. 

"I believe I achieved the alphabet that 
summer, but my after progress, for a long 
time, I do not remember. Two years later 
I went to the winter-school at the same place, 
kept by Lewis Olmstead — a man who had a 
call for plowing, mowing, carting manure, 
22 * 



etc., in summc^and for teaching school in the 
winter, with a talent for music at all seasons, 
wherefore he became chorister upon occa- 
sion, when, peradventure. Deacon Kawley 
could not officiate. He was a celebrity in 
ciphering, and 'Squire Seymour declared 
that he was the greatest ' arithmeticker' in 
Fairfield county. All I remember of his 
person is his bund, which seemed to me as 
big as Goliah's, judging by the claps of 
thunder it made in my ears on one or two 
occasions. 

" The next step of my progress which is 
marked in my memory, is the spelling of 
words of two syllables. I did nut go very 
regularly to school, but by the time I was 
ten years old I had learned to write, and 
had made a little progress in arithmetic. 
There was not a grammar, a geography, or 
a history of any kind in the school. Read- 
ing, writing, and arithmetic were the only 
things taught, and these very indifterently — 
not wholly from the stupidity of the teacher, 
but because he had furty scholars, and the 
standards of the age required no more than 
he performed. I "did as well as the other 
scholars, certainly no better. I had excel- 
lent health and joyous spirits; in leaping, 
running, and wrestling, I had but one su- 
perior of my age, and that was Stephen 
Olmstead, a snug-built fellow, smaller than 
myself, and who, despite our rivalry, was 
my chosen friend and companion. I seemed 
to live for play: alas! how the world has 
changed since I have discovered that we live 
to agonize over study, work, care, ambition, 

disappointment, and then ? 

" As I shall not have occasion again, for- 
mally, to introduce this seminary into my 
narrative, I may as well close my account 
of it now. After I had left my native town 
for some twenty years, I returned and paid 
it a visit. Among the monuments that 
stood liigh in my memory was the West 
Lane school-house. Unconsciously carrying 
with me the measures of childhood, I had 
supposed it to be at least thirty feet square ; 
how had it dwindled when I came to esti- 
mate it by the new standards I had form- 
ed ! It was in all things the same, yet 
wholly changed to me. What I had deem- 
ed a respectable edifice, as it now stood be- 
fore me was only a weather-beaten little 
shed, which, upon being measured, I found 
to be less than twenty feet square. It hap- 
pened to be a warm, summer day, and I 
ventured to enter the place. I found a girl, 



366 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



some eighteen years old, keeping ' a ma'am 
school' for about twenty scholars, some of 
■whom were studying Parley's Geography. 
The mistress was the daughter of one of my 
schoolmates, and some of the hoys and girls 
were grandchildren of the little brood which 
gathered under tlie wing of Aunt Delight, 
when I was an a-b-c-darian. None of tliem, 
not even the school-mistress, liad ever heard 
of me. The name of my father, as having 
ministered unto the people of Ilidgefield in 
some bvgone age, was fiiintly traced in their 
recollection. As to Peter Parley, whose 
Geography they were learning — they sup- 
posed him some decrepit old gentleman 
hobbling about on a crutch, a long way off, 
for whom, nevertheless, they had a certain 
afi'ection, inasmuch as he had made geogra- 
phy into a story-book. The frontispiece- 
picture of the old fellow, with his gouty foot 
in a chair, threatening the boys that if they 
touched his tender toe, he would toll thorn 
no more stories, secured their respect, and 
placed him among the saints in the calendar 
of their young hearts. Well, thought I, if 
this goes on I may yet rival Mother Goose ! 

" At the age of ten years I was sent to the 
up-town school, the leading seminary of the 
village, for at this period it had not ar- 
rived at the honor of an academy, the in- 
stitution being then, and many years after, 
under the charge of Master Stebbius. He 
was a man with a conciliating stoop in the 
shoulders, a long body, short legs, and a 
swaying walk, lie was, at this period, some 
fifty years old, his hair being thin and sil- 
ver)', and always falling in well-combed rolls 
over his coat-collar. Ills eye was blue, 
and his dress invariably of the same color. 
Breeches and knee-buckles, blue-mixed stock- 
ings, and shoes with bright buckles, seemed 
as much a part of the man as his head and 
shoulders. On the whole, his appearance 
was that of the middle-class gentleman of 
the olden time, and he was in fact what he 
seemed. 

" This seminary of learning for the rising 
aristocracy of llidgetield was a wooden edi- 
fice, thirty by twenty feet, covered with 
brown clapboards, and, except an entry, con- 
sisted of a single room. Around and against 
the walls ran a continuous line of seats, front- 
ed by a continuous writing-desk. Beneath, 
were depositories for books and writing mate- 
rials. The centre was occupied by slab seats, 
similar to those of West Lane. The larger 
scholars were rantfed on the outer sides, at 



the desks; the smaller fry of a-b-c-darians 
were seated in the centre. The master was 
enshrined on the east side of the room, con- 
trary, be it remembered, to the law of the 
French savans, which places dominion in- 
variably in the west. Regular as the sun, 
Master Stebbins was in his seat at nine 
o'clock, and the performances of the school 
began. 

" According to the Catechism — which, by 
the way, we learned and recited on Saturday 
— the chief end of man was to glorify God 
and keep his commandments : according to 
the routine of this school, one would have 
thought it to be reading, writing, and arith- 
metic, to which we may add spelling. From 
morning to night, in all weathers, through 
every season of the year, these exercises 
wore carried on with the energy, patience, 
and perseverance of a manufactory. 

"Master Stebbins respected his calling: 
his heart was in his work ; and so, what he 
pretended to teach, he taught well. When 
I entered the school, I found that a huge 
stride had been achieved in the march of 
mind since I had left West Lane. Webster's 
Spelling Book had taken the place of Dil- 
worth, which was a great improvement. 
The drill in spelling was very thorough, and 
applied every day to the whole school. I 
imagine that the exercises might have 
been amusing to a stranger, especially as 
one scholar would sometimes go off in a 
voice as grum as that of a bull-frog, while 
another would follow in tones as fine and 
piping as a peet-weet. The blunders, too, 
were often ineflfably ludicrous; even we 
children would sometimes have tittered, had 
not .such an enormity been certain to have 
brought o>it the birch. As to rewards and 
punishments, the system was this : who- 
ever missed went down ; so that perfection 
mounted to the top. Here was the begin- 
ning of the up and down of life. 

" Reading was performed in classes, which 
generally plodded on without a hint from 
the master. Nevertheless, when Zeek San- 
ford — who was said to have a streak of 
lightning in him — in his haste to be smart, 
read the 37th verse of the 2d chapter of the 
Acts — ' Now w hen they heard this, they 
were pick/ed in their heart' — the birch stick 
on Master Stcbbins's table seemed to quiver 
and peel at the little end, as if to give warn- 
ing of the wrath to come. When Orry 
Keeler — Orry was a girl, you know, and not 
a boy — drawled out in spelling : k — o — n, 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OK ELEMENTARV SCHOOLS. 



367 



hoii, s — li — u — n — t — s, shunts, konshunts 
— the bristles in the master's eyebrows fiJg- 
cti'J like Aunt Delight's knitting-needles. 
Occasionally, when the reading was insup- 
portably bad, he took a book and read him- 
self, as an example. 

" We were taught arithmetic in Daboll, 
then a new book, and which, being adapted 
to our measures of length, weight, and cur- 
rency, was a prodigious leap over the head 
of poor old Dilworth, whose rules and ex- 
amples were modelled upon English customs. 
In consequence of the general use of Dil- 
worth in our schools, for perhaps a century 
— pounds, shillings, and pence were classi- 
cal, and dollars and cents vulgar, for several 
succeeding generations. ' I would not give 
a penny for it,' was genteel ; ' I would not 
give a cent for it,' was plebeian. We have 
not yet got over this : we sometimes say red 
cent in familiar parlance, but' it can hardly 
be put in print without offence. 

" Master Stebbins was a great man with a 
slate and pencil, and I liave an idea that we 
were a generation after his own heart. We 
certainly achieved wonders according to our 
own conceptions, some of us going even be- 
yond the Rule of Three, and making forays 
into the mysterious region of Vulgar Frac- 
tions. Several daring geniuses actually en- 
tered and took possession. 

" But after all, penmanship was Master 
Stebbins's great accomplishment. Uc had 
no mai;niloquent system ; no pompous les- 
sons upon single lines and bitid lines, and 
the like. The revelations of inspired copy- 
book makers Lad not then been vouchsafed 
to man. He could not cut an American 
eagle with a single flourish of a goose-quill. 
He was guided by good taste and native 
instinct, and wrote a smooth round hand, 
like copper-plate. His lessons from A to &, 
all written by himself, consisted of pithy 
proverbs and useful moral lessons. On every 
page of our writing-books he wrote the first 
line liimself. The effect was what might 
have been expected — with such models, pa- 
tiently enforced, nearly all became good 
writers. 

" Beyond these simple elements, the Up- 
town school made few pretensions. When 
I was there, two W^ebster's Grammars and 
one or two Dwight's Geographies were in 
use. The latter was without maps or illus- 
trations, and was in fact little more than an 
expanded table of contents, taken from 
Morse's Universal Geography — the mam- 



moth monument of American learning and 
genius of that age and generation. The 
grammar was a clever book ; but I have an 
idea that neither Master Stebbins nor his 
pupils ever fathomed its depths. They floun- 
dered about in it, as if in a quagmire, and 
after some time came out pretty nearly where 
they went in, though perhaps a little obfus- 
cated by the dim and dusky atmosphere of 
these labyrinths. 

" The fact undoubtedly is, that the art of 
teaching, as now understood, beyond the 
simplest elements, was neither known nor 
deemed necessary in our country schools in 
their day of small things. Repetition, drill- 
ing, line upon line, and precept upon pre- 
cept, with here and there a little of the birch 
— constituted the entire system. 

" Let me here repeat an anecdote, which 
I have indeed told before, but which I had 
from the lips of its hero, G . . . H . . ., a 
clergyman of some note thirty years ago, 
and which well illustrates this part of my 
story. At a village school, not many miles 
from Ridgefield, he was put into Webster's 
Grammar. Here he read, ' A noun is the 
name of a thing — as horse, hair, justice.'' 
Now in his innocence, he read it thus : ' A 
noun is the name of a thing — as horse-hair 
justice.'' 

" ' What then,' said he, ruminating deeply, 
' is a noun ? But first I must find out what 
a horse-hair justice is.' 

" Upon this he meditated for some days, 
but still he was as far as ever from the solu- 
tion. Now his father was a man of authority 
in those parts, and moreover he was a justice 
of the peace. Withal, he was of respectable 
ancestry, and so there had descended to him 
a somewhat stately high-backed settee, cov- 
ered with horse-hair. One day, as the youth 
came from school, pondering upon the great 
grammatical problem, he entered the fnmt 
door of the house, and there he saw before 
him, his fatlier, officiating in his legal capa- 
city, and seated upon the old horse-hair set- 
tee. ' I have found it !' said the boy to 
himself, as greatly delighted as was Archim- 
edes when he exclaimed Eureka — 'my fa- 
ther is a horse-hair justice, and therefore a 
noun !' 

" Nevertheless, it must be admitted that 
the world got on remarkably well in spite 
of this narrowness of the country schools. 
The elements of an English education were 
pretty well taught throughout the village 
seminaries of Connecticut, and I may add, 



36S 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



of New England. The teacliers were lieart- 
ily devoted to their profession : they re- 
spected tlieir calling, and were respected 
and encour.aged by the community. They 
had this merit, that while they attempted 
but little, that, at least, was thoroughly per- 
formed. 

"■ As to the country at large, it was a day 
of quiet, though earnest action : Franklin's 
spirit was the great ' schoolmaster abroad' — 
teaching industry, perseverance, frugality, 
and thrift, as the end and aim of ambition. 
The education of youth was suited to what was 
expected of them. With the simple lessons 
of the country schools, they moved the 
world immediately around them. Though 
I can recollect only a single case — that al- 
ready alluded to of Ezekiel Sanford — in which 
one of Master Stebbins's scholars attained 
any degree of literary distinction, still, quite 
a number of them, with no school learning 
beyond what he gave them, rose to a certain 
deajree of eminence. His throe sons obtain- 
ed situations in New York as accountants, 
and became distinguished in their career. 
At one period there were three graduates 
of his school, wlio were cashiers of banks in 
that city. My mind adverts now with great 
satisfaction to several names among the 
wealthy, honorable, and still active mer- 
chants of the great metropolis, who were 
my fellow-students of the Up-town school, 
and who there began and completed their 
education." 

To the advantages, such as they were, of 
the district school, Mr. Goodrich adds an 
account of his experience on the farm, and 
his juvenile sports, as well as his early at- 
tempts at whiltlinrf and other mechanical 
arts, and adds the following reflections : — 

" Now all these things may seem trifles, 
yet in a review pf my life, I deem them of 
some significance. This homely familiarity 
with tlie more mechanical arts was a mate- 
rial part of my education ; this communion 
with nature gave me instructive and impor- 
tant lessons from nature's open book of 
knowledge. My technical education, as will 
be seen hereafter, was extremely narrow and 
irregular. This defect was at last partially 
supplied b}^ the commonplace incidents I 
have mentioned. The teaching, or rather 
the training of the senses, in the country — 
ear and eye, foot and hand, by running, leap- 
ing, climbing over hill and mountain, by oc- 
casional labor in the garden and on the farm, 
and by the use of tools — and all this in youth, 



is sowing seed which is repaid largely and 
readily to the haml of after cultivation, how- 
ever unskilful it may be. This is not so 
much because of the amount of knowledge 
available in after-life, which is thus obtained 
— though this is not to be despised — as it 
is that healthful, vigorous, manly habits and 
associations — physical, moral, and intellec- 
tual — are thus established and developed. 

" It is a riddle to many people that tlie , 
emigrants from the country into the city, in 
all ages, outstrip the natives, and become 
their masters. The reason is obvious : coun- 
try education and country life are practical, 
and invigorating to body and mind, and 
hence those who arc thus qualified triumph 
in the race of life. It has always been, it 
will always be so ; the rustic Goths and 
Vandals will march in and conquer Rome, 
in the future, as they have done in the past. 
I say this, by no means insisting that my 
own life furnishes any very striking proof 
of the truth of my remarks; still, I may say 
that but for the country training and experi- 
ence I have alluded to, and which served as 
a foothold for subsequent progress, I should 
have lingered in my career far behind the 
humble advances I have actually made. 

" Let me illustrate and verify my meaning 
by specific examples. In my youth I be- 
came familiar with every bird common to 
the country : I knew his call, his song, his 
hue, his food, his habits ; in short, his natu- 
ral history. I could detect him by his flight, 
as far as the eye could reach. I knew all 
the quadrupeds — wild as well as tame. I 
was acquainted with almost every tree, shrub, 
bush, and flower, indigenous to the country ; 
not botanical!}', but according to popular 
ideas. I recognized them instanti}-, where- 
ever I saw them ; I know their forms, 
hues, leaves, blossoms, and fruit. I could 
tell their characteristics, their uses, the 
legends and traditions that belonged to 
them. All this I learned by familiarity with 
these objects ; meeting with them in all my 
walks and rambles, and taking note of them 
with the emphasis and vigor of early experi- 
ence and observation. In after days, I have 
never had time to make natural history a 
S3'stematic study; yet my knowledge as to 
these things has constantly accumulated, 
and that without special effort. When I 
have travelled in other countries, the birds, 
the animals, the vegetation, have interested 
me as well by their resemblances as their 
difterences, when compared with our own. 



PROGRESS or COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



369 



In looking over the pages of scientific works 
on natnral liistorj', I have always read with 
eagerness and intelligence of preparation ; 
indeed, of vivid and pleasing associations. 
Every idea I had touching these matters 
was living and syuipathetio, and beckoned 
other ideas to it, and these again originated 
still others. Thus it is that in the race of a 
busy life, by means of a homely, hearty start 
at the becjinning, I have, as to these subjects, 
cosily and naturally supplied, in some hum- 
ble degree, the defects of my irregular edu- 
cation, and that too, not by a process of re- 
pulsive toil, but with a relish superior to all 
the seductions of romance. I am therefore a 
believer in the benefits accruing from simple 
country life and simple country habits, as here 
illustrated, and am, therefore, on all occasions 
anxious to recommend them to my friends and 
countrymen. To city people, I would say, 
educate your children, at least partially, in the 
country, so as to imbue them with the love 
of nature, and that knowledge and training 
which spring from simple rustic sports, ex- 
ercises, and employments. To country peo- 
ple, I would remark, be not envious of the 
city, for in the general balance of good and 
evil, you have your full portion of the first, 
with a diminished share of the last." 

THE IIOMESPlV ERA OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 
BY HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D. 

" But the schools — we must not pass by 
these, if we are to form a truthful and suffi- 
cient picture of the homespun da3's. The 
schoolmaster did not exactly go round the 
district to fit out the children's minds with 
learning, as the shoemaker often did to fit 
their feet with shoes, or the tailor to mea- 
sure and cut for their bodies ; but, to come 
as near it as possible, he boarded round, (a 
custom not yet gone by,) and the wood for 
the common fire was supplied in a way 
equally primitive, viz., by a contribution of 
loads from the several families, according to 
their several quantities of childhood. The 
children were all clothed alike in home- 
spun ; and the only signs of aristocracy 
were, that some were clean and some a de- 
gree less so, some in fine white and striped 
linen, some in brown tow crash ; and, in 
particular, as I remember, with a certain 
feeling of quality I do not like to express, 
the good fathers of some testified the opin- 
ion they had of their children, b}' bringing 
fine round loads of hickor}^ wood to warm 
them, while some others, I regret to say. 



brought onl_r scanty, scraggy, ill-looking 
heaps of green oak, white birch, and hem- 
lock. Indeed, about all the bickerings of 
quality among the children, centered in the 
quality of the wood pile. There was no 
complaint, in those days, of the want of 
ventilation ; for the large open fire-place 
held a considerable fraction of a cord of 
wood, and the windows took in just enough 
air to supply the combustion. Besides, the 
bigger lads were occasionally ventilated, by 
being sent out to cut wood enough to keep 
the fire in action. The seats were made of 
the outer slabs from the saw-njill, supported 
by slant legs driven into and a proper dis- 
tance through auger holes, and planed 
smooth on the top by the rather tardy 
process of friction. But the spelling went 
on bravely, and we ciphered away again 
and again, always till we got through Loss 
and Gain. The more advanced of us, too, 
made light work of Lindlev JIurrav, and 
went on to the parsing, finally, tif extracts 
from Shakspeare and Milton, till some of us 
began to think we had mastered their tough 
sentences in a more consequential sense of 
the term than was exactly true. 0, I re- 
member (about the remotest thing I can 
remember) that low seat, too high, never- 
theless, to allow the feet to touch the floor, 
and that friendly teacher who had the ad- 
dress to start a first feeling of enthusiasm 
and awaken the first sense of power. lie is 
living still, and whenever I think of him, he 
rises up to me in the far background of 
memory, as bright as if he had worn the 
seven stars in his hair. (I said he is livint; ; 
yes, he is here to-day, God bless him I) 
IIow many others of you that are here as- 
sembled, recall these little primitive univer- 
sities of homespun, where your mind was 
born, with a similar feeling of reverence 
and homely satisfaction. Perhaps you re- 
member, too, with a pleasure not less genu- 
ine, that you received the classic discipline 
of the university proper, under a dress of 
homespun, to be graduated, at the close, 
in the joint honors of broadcloth and the 
parchment." 

We might add other lights and shades to 
the picture of school life as it was down to a 
very recent period in New England and New 
York, but we must refer our readers to that 
amusing and instructive volume of Rev. AVar- 
ren Burton, " The District School as it was." 
We must pass to the clementarv schools of 
Pennsylvania and the Southern States. 



370 



EDUCATIOK AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



LETTER FROM WILLIAM DARLINGTON, M.D., 
LL.D. 

" At your request, I propose to attempt a 
brief and hasty sketcli of my acquaintance 
with, and reminiscences of the Country 
Schools, and their condition, some sixty-five 
or sevent}' years since, in the south-eastern 
corner of the state of Pennsylvania ; more 
particularly the school at Birmingham, Ches- 
ter county, where the limited instruction of 
my youthful days was chiefly acquired. 

" My earliest recollections of the school to 
which I was sent go back to that trying pe- 
riod of loose government, rusticity, and 
scarcity experienced in the interval between 
the War of Independence and the adoption 
of the Federal Constit\ition; and if it were 
given me to wield the pen of Tom Broivn 
of Riif/by, I might peradventure furnish some 
graphic details of our rural seminaries of 
leaniing in those davs of general destitution. 
But, under present circumstances, I can only 
offer the imperfect narrative of incidents and 
observations, as retained in an almost octo- 
genarian memory. 

"At the time when I was first sent to 
school — say in 1787-8 — school-houses were 
rare; and there was little or no organization 
for their maintenance. The country round, 
having been recently ravaged by a hostile 
army, was scantily supplied with teachers, 
who occasionally obtained schools by going 
among the priueipnl families of the vicinage, 
and procuring subscribers for a quarter's tui- 
tion of the children on hand. Those who 
were too young to be serviceable on the 
farm were allowed to go to school in the 
summer season ; but the larger ones (^cxper- 
tits loquor) could only be spared for that 
purpose during winter. The extent of rural 
instruction was then considered to be prop- 
erly limited to what a worthy London alder- 
man designated as the three Ji's, viz., 'Read- 
ing, Riting, and Rithmetic' To cipher 
beyond the Rule of Three was deemed a 
notable achievement and mere surplusage 
among the average of country scholars. 
The business of teaching, at that day, was 
disdainfully regarded as among the hum- 
blest and most unprofitable of callings ; and 
the teachers — often low-bred, intemperate 
adventurers from the old woi'ld — were gen- 
erally about on a par with the prevalent es- 
timate of the profession. Whenever a thrift- 
less vagabond was found to be good for 
nothing else, he would resort to school-lceep- 



ing, and teaching young American ideas 
how to shoot ! It was my good fortune, 
however, to have a teacher who was a dis- 
tinguished exception to the sorry rule re- 
ferred to. John Forsvthe was a native of 
the Emerald Isle, born in 1754, received a 
good English education at home, and wliile 
yet a young man, migrated to the county of 
Chester, in the land of Penn, where he be- 
came an excellent schoolmaster. When he 
arrived in our quakerly settlement, lie was a 
gay young Presbyterian, dressed in the fash- 
ionable ajiparel of the world's people ; and 
being withal musical in his taste, was an ex- 
pert performer on the violin. He soon, how- 
ever, adopted the views and principles of the 
' Friends,' among whom he remained, mar- 
ried one of the society, and was ever recog- 
nized as an exemplary and valuable member. 

" As the head and master-spirit of the 
school, at Birmingham meeting-house, es- 
tablished under the auspices of the Quaker 
society, he taught for a number of years, 
and always applied himself con amore to his 
arduous duties. lie accomplished more in 
exciting a taste for knowledge and develop- 
ing young intellects, than any teacher who 
had theretofore laboi'ed in that hopeful vine- 
yard, lie eflectually routed the lingering 
old superstitions, prejudices, and benighted 
notions of preceding generations, and over 
took delight in introducing youthful genius 
to the bright fields of literatui'c and science. 
The young men of his day, who have since 
figured in the world, were deeply iudebted 
to John Forsytlie for the aid which he af- 
forded them in their studies, as well as for 
the sound doctrines which he inculcated ; 
and some few of them yet sur\ive to make 
the gratefid acknowledgment. 

" When the noble Quaker institution at 
West-town was erected, near the close of the 
last century, the skill and experience of John 
Forsytlie were put in requisition, until it was 
fairly inaugurated ; after which he retii-ed to 
his comfortable farm, in East Bradford, 
where he passed a venerable old age, until 
his 87th year, in superintending agricultural 
employments and in manifesting a lively in- 
terest in the progress of education among 
our people. No instructor has labored in 
this community more faithfully, nor with 
better eft'ect. None has left a memory more 
worthy to be kindly cherished. 

" Tlie old school-house at Birmingham was 
a one story stone building, erected by men 
who did not understand the subject; and 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



371 



was badly lijrlitL'J and ventilated. The dis- 
cipline of tliat day (adopted from tlie mother 
country-) was pretty severe. The real birch 
of the botanists not being indigenous in tlie 
immediate vieinity of the school, an (^fHeient 
substitute was found in y^oung apple tree 
sprouts, as unruly boys were abundantly 
able to testify. 

"The school books of my earliest recollection 
•were a cheap English spelling book, the Bi- 
ble for the reading classes, and when we got 
to ciphering, the 'Schoolmasters' Assistant.' 
The '.Spelling Book' and ' Assistant' were 
by Thnmas l)iKvorth, an Engli>h school- 
master at Wapping. The 'Assistant' was a 
useful work, but has long since disappeared. 
The 'counterfeit presentment' of tlie worthy 
author faced the title-page, and was famil- 
iarly known to every schoolboy of my time. 
The Spelling Book contained a little ele- 
mentary grammar, in which the English sub- 
stantives were declined through all the cases 
(genitive, dative, etc.) of the Latin. But 
gramma/' was then an unknown study among 
us. Dilworth's 'Spelling Book,' however, 
was soon superseded by a greatly improved 
one, compiled bv John Pierce, a respect- 
able teacher of Delaware county, Pennsyl- 
vania. This comprised a tolerable English 
grammar, for that period, and John Forsytho 
introduced the stud}- into his school with 
ranch zeal and earnestness. Intelligent em- 
ployers were made to comprehend its advan- 
tages, and weic pleased with the prospect 
of a hopeful advance in that direction ; but 
dull boys and illiterate parents could not ap- 
preciate the benefit. Great boobies often 
got permission, at home, to evade the study, 
but they could not get round John Forsythe 
in that way. They would come into school 
■with this promised indulgence, and loudly 
announce, 'Daddy says I needn't lam r/ram- 
mar ; it's no use :' when the energetic re- 
sponse from the desk was, ' I don't care 
what daddy says. lie knows nothing about 
it ; and 1 sav thou shalt learn it !' and so 
some general notion of the subject was im- 
pressed upon the minds even of the stupid; 
while many of the brighter youths became 
excellent grammarians. 

" In this Friendly seminary we were all re- 
quired to use the plain language in conver- 
sation, being assured that it was wrong, both 
morallv and grammatically, to say you to 
one person. Our teacher contrived a meth- 
od of his own for mending our cacology, 
even while at our noonday sports. He pre- 



pared a small piece of board or shingle, 
which he termed s. paddle ; and whenever a 
boy was heard uttering bad grannnar, lie 
had to take the paddle, step a-ide, and re- 
frain from play, until he detected some other 
unlucky urchin trespassing upon syntax ; 
when he was authorized to transfer the 
badge of interdiction to the last offender, 
and resume his amusements. It was really 
curious to observe how critical wo soon be- 
came, and how mucli improvement was ef- 
fected b}' this whimsical and simple device. 

"Pierce's 'Spelling Book' kept its position 
in our school for several years, but was at 
length superseded, in the grammatical de- 
partment, by a useful little volume, ])repared 
by John Comly, of Bucks county, Pennsyl- 
vania. Lindley Murray And. o\\\iiVi prepared 
elaborate grammars, which were successively 
introduced, as our schools improved or cre- 
ated a demand ; and so rapidly have the 
bookmaking competitors in that department 
multiplied that their name is now legion, 
and the respective value of their woi-ks is 
know-n only to experts in the art of teach- 
ing- 

" Excellent works in Reading and Elocution 
are now so abundant and well known in all 
our respectable seminaries, that they need 
not to be here enumerated. One of the best 
and most popular of those works, some half 
century or more since, was a volume entitled 
' The Art of Speaking,' compiled, I think, 
by a Mr. Rice, in England. 

" But, as we have now reached the age of 
academies, normal institutes, and schools for 
the people, I presume you will gladly forego 
a further extension of this prosj' narrative, 
so little calculated to interest a veteran in 
the great cause of education. I have ever 
been a sincere friend and advocate of the 
blessing; but, unfortunately, my acquaint- 
ance with it has been mainly limited to a 
humbling consciousness of my deficiencies 
in the ennobling attainment. 

" Very respectfully, 

" Wm. Darlixgton. 
"West Chester, Pa., Dec. 21, 1860." 

SCHOOLS IN PHILADELPHIA. 

The following picture of the internal econ- 
omy of one of the best schools of Phila- 
delphia, is taken from Watson's " Annals 
of Philadelphia and Pennsylvania." 

"My fiicetious friend, Lang Syne, has pre- 
sented a lively picture of the ' schoolmas- 



372 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



tcTs' in those days, wlicn ' preceptors,' and 
' principals,' and ' professors' were yet un- 
named. What is now known as ' Friends' 
Academy,' in Fourth street, was at that time 
occupied liy four ditferent masters. Tlie 
best room down-stairs by Robert Proud, 
Latin master; the one above liim, by Wil- 
liam Waring, teaclier of astronomy and math- 
ematics ; the east room, up-stairs, by Jere- 
miah Paul, and the one below, ' last not 
least" in our remembrance, by J. l\)dd, and 
severe he was. The State House clock, be- 
ing at the time visible from the school pave- 
ment, gave to the eye full notice when to 
break off marble and plug top, hastily col- 
lect the ' stakes,' and bundle in, pell-mell, 
to the school-room, wdiere, until the arrival 
of the ' master of scholars,' John Todd, 
they were busily emploj'ed, every one in 
finding his place, under the control for the 
time of a short Irishman, usher, named Jim- 
my M'Cue. On the enti'anoe of the master, 
all shuffling of the feet, ' scrouging,' hit- 
ting of elbows, and whispering disputes, 
were hastily adjusted, leaving a silence 
which might be felt, ' not a mouse stir- 
ring.' He, Todd, dressed after the plainest 
manner of Friends, but of the richest ma- 
terial, with looped cocked hat, was at all 
times remarkably clean and nice in his per- 
son, a man of about sixty years, square 
built, and well sustained by bone and mus- 
cle. 

" After an hour, maybe, of quiet time, 
every thing going smoothly on — no sound, 
but from the master's voice, while hearing 
the one standing near him, a dead calm, 
when suddenly a brisk slap on the car or 
face, for something or for nothing, gave 
' dreadful note' that an eruption of the 
lava was now about to take place. Next 
thing to be seen was ' strap in full play 
over the head and shoulders of Pilgarlic' 
The passion of the master ' growing by 
what it fed on,' and wanting elbow room, 
the chair would be quickly thrust on one 
side, wdien, with sudden gripe, he was to be 
seen dragging his struggling suppliant to 
the flogging ground, in the centre of the 
room ; having placed his left foot upon the 
end of a bench, lie then, w ith a patent jerk, 
peculiar to himself, would have the boy com- 
pletely horsed across his knee, with his left 
elbow on the back of his neck, to keep him 
securely on. In the hurry of the moment 
he would bring his long pen with him, 
griped between his strong teeth (visible the 



while), causing both ends to descend to 
a parallel with his chin, and adding nuicU 
to the terror of the scene. His face Wdu'd 
assume a deep claret color — his little bob of 
hair would disengage itself, and stand out, 
each ' particular hair' as it were, ' up ia 
arms and eager for the fray.' Having his 
victim thus completely at command, and all 
useless drapery drawn up to a bunch above 
the waistband, and the rotundity and the 
nankeen in the closest affinity possible for 
them to be, then once more to the ' staring 
crew' would be exhibited the dextcritv of 
master and strap. By long practice he had 
arrived at such pei'fection in the exercise, 
that, moving in quick time, the fifteen inches 
of bridle rein [alias strap) would be seen 
after every cut, elevated to a perpendicular 
above his head ; from whence it descended 
like a flail on the stretched nankeen, leav- 
ing ' on the place beneath' a fiery red 
streak, at every slash. It was customary 
with him to address the sufferer at intervals, 



yes, 



as follows: 'Does it hurt?' 'Oh! 
master ; oh ! don't, master.' ' Then I'll 
make it hurt thee more. I'll make thy flesh 
creep — thou shan't want a warming pan to- 
night. Intolerable being ! Nothing in na- 
ture is able to prevail upon thee but my 
strap.' He had one boy named George 
Fudge, who usually wore leather breeches, 
with wliich he put strap and its master at 
defiance. He would never acknowledge 
pain — he would not 'sing out.' Todd seiz- 
ed him one day, and having gone through 
the evolutions of strapping (as useless, in 
eftect, as if he had been thrashing a flour- 
bag), almost breathless with rage, lie once 
more appealed to the feelings of the ' repro- 
bate,' by saying : ' Does it not hurt T The 
astonishment of the school and the mas- 
ter was completed, on hearing him sing 
out, ' No ! Hurray for leather crackers I' 
He was thrown off immediately, sprawling 
on the floor, with the benediction as follows: 
' Intolerable being 1 Get out <if my school. 
Nothing in nature is able to prevail upon 
thee — not even my strap !' 

"'Twas not 'his love of learning was in 
fault,' so much as the old British system of 
introducing learning and discipline into the 
brains of boys and soldiers by dint of pun- 
ishment. The system of flogojiiig on all 
occasions in schools, for something or for 
nothing, being protected by law, gives free 
play to the passions of the master, which 
he, for one, exercksed with great severity. 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



373 



The writer has, at this moment, in his mem- 
ory, a schoohuaster then of this cit}', who, a 
few years ago, went deliberately out of his 
school to purchase a cow-skin, with which, 
on his return, he extinguished his bitter re- 
venge on a boy who had oftended him. 
The age of chivalry preferred ignorance in 
its sons, to having them subjected to the 
fear of a pedagogue — believing that a boy 
who had quailed under the eye of the 
schoolmaster, would never face the enemy 
with boldness on the field of battle ; which 
it must be allowed is ' a swing of the pen- 
dulum' too far the other way. A good 
writer says : ' We do not harden the wax 
to receive the impression — wherefore, the 
teacher seems himself most in need of cor- 
rection — fur he, unfit to teach, is making 
them unfit to be taught !' 

" I have been told b}' an aged gentleman, 
that in the days of his boyhood, sixty-five 
years ago, when boys and girls were to- 
gether, it was a common practice to make 
the boys strip off their jackets, and loose 
their trowsers' band, preparatory to hoisting 
them upon a boy's back so as to get his 
whipping, with only the linen between the 
flesh and the strap. The girls too — wc 
pity them — were obliged to take oft" their 
stays to receive their floggings with equal 
sensibility. He named one distinguished 
lady, since, who was so treated among oth- 
ers, in his school. All the teachers then 
were from England and Ireland, and brought 
with tliem the rigorous principles which 
had before been whipped into themselves at 
home." 

Robert Corani, in a pamphlet devoted in 
part to a " Plan for the General Establish- 
ment of Schools throughout the United 
States," printed in Wilmington, Delaware, 
In 1791, characterizes the state of education 
as follows : " The country schools, through 
most of the United States, whether we con- 
sider the buildings, the teachers, or the reg- 
ulations, arc in every respect completely des- 
picable, wretched, and contemptible. The 
buddings are in general sorrv hovels, neither 
wind-tight nor water-tight ; a few stools 
serving in the double capacity of bencli and 
desk, and the old leaves of copy books ma- 
king a miserable substitute for glass win- 
dows. The teachers are generally foreign- 
ers, shamefully deficient in every qualifica- 
tion necessary to convey instruction to 
youth, and not seldom addicted to gross 



vices Absolute in his own opinion, and 
proud of introducing what he calls his Euro- 
pean method, one calls the first letter of tlie 
alpliabet, aw. The school is modified upon 
this plan, and the children who are advanced 
are beat and cufted to forget the former 
mode they have been taught, which irritates 
their minds and retards their progress. The 
quarter being finished, the children lie idle 
until another master off'ers, few remaining in 
one place more than a quarter. AVlien the 
next schoolmaster is introduced, he calls the 
first letter «, as in mat; the school under- 
goes another reform, and is equallv vexed 
and retarded. At his removal a third is in- 
troduced, who calls the first letter liay. All 
these blockheads are equally absolute in 
their own notions, and will by no means 
suffer the children to pronounce the letter 
as they were first taught ; but every three 
months the school goes through a reform — 
error succeeds error, and dunce the second 
reigns like dunce the first. I will venture 
to pronounce, that however seaport towns, 
from local circumstances, may have good 
schools, the country schools will remain in 
their present state of despicable wretched- 
ness, unless incorporated with government. 
* * * The necessity of a reformation in 
the country schools is too obvious to be in- 
sisted on ; and the first step to such a re- 
formation will be by turning private schools 
into public ones. The schools should be 
public, for several reasons — 1st. Because, as 
has been before said, every citizen lias an 
equal right to subsistence, and ought to have 
an equal opportunity of acquiring knowl- 
edge. 2d. Because public schools are 
easiest maintained, as the burthen falls upon 
all the citizens. The man who is too 
squeamish or lazy to get married, contrib- 
utes to the support of public schools, as 
well as the man who is burthened with a 
large family. But private schools are sup- 
ported only by heads of families, and by those 
only while they are interested ; for as soon 
as the children are grown up, their support 
is withdrawn ; which makes the enqjloy- 
ment so precarious, that men of ability and 
merit will not submit to the trifling salaries 
allowed in most country schools, and which, 
by their partial support, cannot afford a bet- 
ter." 

SCHOOL HOLIDAY IN GEORGIA. 

AVe have not been verv successful in gath- 
ering the printed testimony of the dead, or 



374 



EDUCATIOy AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



tlie vivid reminiscences of the living, rcspoct- 
iuff tlie internal economy of schools, public 
or family, in any of the Southern states prior 
to 1800. The following graphic sketch of 
" the turn out" of the schoolmaster, from 
Judge Longstreet's " Georgia Scones," is 
said to be " hterally true :" 

" In the good old days of/esciies, abisself- 
as and anpersants,* terms which used to be 
familiar in this country during the Revolu- 
tionary war, and which lingered in some of 
our countr}' schools for a few years after- 
ward, I visited my friend Captain Gritfen, 
who resided about seven miles to the east- 
ward of Wrightsborough, then in Richmond, 
but now in Columbia county. I reached the 
captain's hospitable home on Easter, and 
■was received by him and his good lady with 
a Georr/ia ivelcomc of 1790. 

" The da}' was consumed in the inter- 
change of news between the captain and 
, myself (though, I confess, it might have 
been better employed), and the night found 
us seated round a temporal'}- lire, which the 
captain's sons had kindled up for the pur- 
pose of dyeing eggs. It was a common cus- 
tom of those days with boys to dye and 
peck eggs on Easter Sunday, and for a few 
days afterward. They were colored accord- 
inrr to the fancy of the dyer ; some yellow, 
some green, some purple, and some with a 
variety of colors, borrowed from a piece of 
calico. They were not unfrequently beauti- 
fied with a taste and skill which would have 
extorted a compliment from Ilezekiah Niles, 
if ho had seen them a year ago, in the hands 
of the ' younri operatives,^ in some of the 
northern manufactories. No sooner was the 
work of dyeing finished, than our ' young 
operatives' sallied forth to stake the whole 
proceeds of their ' domestic industri/ upon 
a peck. Egg was struck against egg, point 
to point, and the egg that was broken was 



* TiiQ feicuewa.?, a sharpened wire or other histru- 
ment nseil by the preceptor to point out tlie letters 
to the children. 

Abisselfa is a contraction of the words " a by it- 
self, a." It was usual, when either of the vowels 
constituted a syllaljle of a word, to pronounce it, 
and denote its independent character by the words 
just mentioned, thus : " a by itself, a, c-o-r-n corn, 
acorn;" "e by itself, e, v-i-l, evit," etc. 

The character which stands for the word " and " 
(A) was probably prononnced with the same accem- 
paniment, but in terms borrowed from the L.atin lan- 
puagc, thus: "Averse" (by itself) and Hence, "an- 
persant." 



given up as lost to the owner of the one 
which came whole from the shock. 

" While the boys were busily employed 
in the manner just mentioned, the captain's 
youngest son, George, gave us an anecdote 
highly descriptive of the Yankee and Geor- 
gia character, oven in their buddings, and 
at this early date. ' AVhat you think, pa,' 
said ho, ' Zcph Pottibone went and got his 
uncle Zach to turn him a wooden egg ; and 
lie won a whole hatful o' eggs from all us 
boys 'fore wo found it out ; but, when we 
found it out, maybe John Brown didn't 
smoke him for it, and took away all his 
eggs, and give 'em back to us boys ; and 
you think lie didn't go then and git a guinea 
egg, and win most as many more, and John 
Brown would o' give it to him agin if all we 
boys hadn't said we thought it was fair. I 
never see such a boy as that Zcph Pottibone 
in all my life. He don't mind whipping no 
more 'an nothing at all, if he can win eggs.' 

" This anecdote, however, only fell in by 
accident, for there was an all-absorbing sub- 
ject which occupied the minds of the boys 
during the whole evening, of which I could 
occasionally catch distant hints, in under 
tones and wdiispors, but of which I could 
make nothing, until they were afterward ex- 
plained by the captain liimself. Such as 
'I'll be bound Pete Jones and Bill Smith 
stretches him.' ' By Jockey, soon as they 
seize him, you'll see mo down upon him like 
a duck upon a June-bug.' ' By the time he 
tijuchcs the ground, he'll think he's got into 
a hornet's nest,' etc. 

" ' The boys,' said the captain, as they re- 
tired, ' are going to turn out the schoolmas- 
ter to-morrow, and you can perceive they 
think of nothing else. We must go over to 
the schoolhouso and witness the contest, in 
order to prevent injury to preceptor or pu- 
pils ; for, though the master is always, upon 
such occasions, glad to be turned out, and 
only struggles long enougli to present his 
patrons a fair apology for giving the child- 
ren a holiday, which he desires as much as 
they do, the boys always conceive a holiday 
gained by a ' turn out' as tlie sole achieve- 
ment of their valor ; and in their zeal to dis- 
tinguish themselves u])on such memorable 
occasions, they sometimes become too rough, 
provoke the master to wrath, and a very se- 
rious conflict ensues. To prevent these con- 
sequences, to bear witness that the master 
was forced to yield before he would with- 
hold a day of his promised labor from his 






PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



375 



■inplovcTs, and to act as a mediator between 
liiii and the boys in settling the articles of 
jeace, I always attend ; and you must ac- 
company me to-morrow.' I cheerfully pro- 
nised to do so. 

" The captain and I rose before the sun, 
out the boys liad risen and were oft' to the 
Ichool-house before the dawn. After an ear- 
ly breakfast, hurried by Mrs. G. for our ac- 
tomniodation, my host and m)'self took up 
pur line of march toward the school-house. 
\Ve reached it about lialf an hour before the 
11 ister arrived, but not before the boys had 
. .mplctcd its fortifications. It was a simple 
'"X pen, about twenty feet square, with a 
liiorway cut out of the logs, to which was 
tittcd a rude door, made of clapboards, and 
wunij on wooden hinges. The roof was 
ivcreil with clapboards also, and retained 
n their places by heavy logs placed on them. 
riic chimney was built of logs, diminishing 
n size from the ground to the top, and over- 
ipread inside and out with red clay mortar. 
The classic hut occupied a lovel}' spot, over- 
shadowed by majestic hickories, towering 
Doplars, and strong-armed oaks. The little 
Dlain on which it stood was terminated, at 
;he distance of aliout fifty paces from its 
loor, by the brow of a hill, which descended 
•ather abruptly to a noble spring that gush- 
':'d jovously forth among the roots of a state- 
y beech at its foot. 

'• Tlie boys had strongly fortified the school- 
louse, of which they had taken possession. 
riie door was barricaded with logs, which I 
should have supposed w'ould have defied the 
combined powers of tlie whole school. The 
shimney, too, was nearly filled with logs of 
joodlv size ; and these were the only pass- 
ways to the interior. I concluded, if a turn 
out was all that was necessary to decide the 
contest in favor of the boys, they had al- 
readv gained the victory. They had, how- 
ever, not as much confidence in their out- 
works as I had, and therefore had armed 
ithemselves with long sticks, not for the pur- 
pose of using them upon the master if the 
ibattle should come to close quarters, for this 
was considered unlawful warfare, but for the 
purpose of guarding their M'orfc from his ap- 
: preaches, which it was considered perfectly 
.lawful to protect bv all manner of jabs and 
punches through the cracks. From the ear- 
ly assemliling of the girls, it was very ob- 
vious that they had been let into the con- 
spiracy, though they took no part in the 
active operations. They would, however, 



occasionally drop a word of encouragement 
to the boys, such as ' I wouldn't turn out 
the master; but if I did turn him out, I'd 
die before I'd give up.' 

" At length" Mr. Michael St. John, the 
schoolmaster made his appearance. Though 
some of the girls liad met him a quarter of 
a mile from the school-house, and told him 
all that had happened, he gave signs of sud- 
den astonishment and indignation when he 
advanced to the door, and was assailed by a 
whole platoon of sticks from the cracks : 
' Why, what does all this mean ?' said he, 
as he approaclicd the captain and myself, 
witli a countenance of two or three varying 
expressions. 

" ' VVliy,' said the captain, ' the boys have 
turned you out, Itecause you have refused to 
give them an Easter holiday.' 

" 'Oh,' returned Michael, 'that's it, is it? 
Well, Til see whether their parents are to 
pay me for letting their children play when 
the)' please.' So saying, he advanced to 
the school-house, and demanded, in a lofty 
tone, of its inmates, an unconditional sur- 
render. 

" ' Well, give us a holiday, then,' said 
twenty little urchins within, ' and we'll let 
you in.' 

" ' Open the door of the acadcmi/ — ■ 
(Michael would allow nobody to call it a 
school-house) — 'Open the door of the acad- 
emy this instant,' said Michael, 'or I'll break 
it down.' 

" ' Break it down,' said Pete Jones and 
Bill Smith, ' and we'll break you down.' 

" During this colloquy I took a peep into 
the fortress, to see how the garrison were 
aft'ected by the parley. The little ones were 
obviously panic-struck at the first words of 
command ; but their fears wore all chased 
away by the bold determined reply of Pete 
Jones and Bill Smith, and they raised a 
whoop of defiance. 

" Michael now walked round the academy 
three times, examining all its weak points 
with great care. He then paused, reflected 
for a moment, and wheeled oft' suddenly to- 
ward the woods, as though a bright thought 
had just struck him. He passed twenty 
things which I supposed he might be in 
quest of, such as huge stones, fence rails, 
portable logs, and the like, without bestow- 
ing the least attention upon them. He 
went to one old log, searched it thoroughly, 
then to another, tlien to a hollow stump, 
peeped into it with great care, then to a 



376 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



hollow log, into whicli lie looked with equal 
caution, and so on. 

" ' What is he after ?' inquired I. . 

" ' I'm sure I don't know,' said the cap- 
tain, ' but the boys do. Don't you notice 
the breathless silence which prevails in the 
school-house, and the intense anxiety with 
which they are eyeing him through the 
cracks ?' 

" At this moment Michael had reached a 
little excavation at the root of a dogwood, 
and was in the act of putting his hand into 
it, when a voice from the garrison exclaimed, 
with most touching pathos, ' Lo'd o' messy, 
he's found my eggs ! boys, let's give up.' 

" ' I won't give up,' was the reply from 
many voices at once. 

" ' Rot your cowardly skin, Zeph Petti- 
bone, you wouldn't give a wooden egg for 
all the holydays in the world.' 

" If these replies did not reconcile Zeph- 
aniah to his apprehended loss, it at least si- 
lenced his complaints. In the mean time 
Michael was enqjloycd in relieving Zeph's 
storehouse of its provisions ; and, truly, its 
contents told well for Zeph's skill in egg- 
pecking. However, Michael took out the 
efftrs with o-reat care, and brought them 
within a few paces of the schoolhouse, and 
laid them down with equal care in full view 
of the besieged. He revisited the places 
which he had searched, and to which he 
seemed to have been led by intuition ; for 
from nearly all of them did he draw egn's, 
in greater or less numbers. Tliese he treated 
as he had done Zeph's, keeping each pile 
separate. Having arranged the eggs in 
double files before the door, he marched be- 
tween them with an air of triumph, and 
once more demanded a surrender, under 
pain of an entire destruction of the garri- 
son's provisions. 

" ' Break 'em just as quick as you please,' 
said George Griffin ; ' our mothers '11 give 
us a plenty more, won't thej', pa?' 

" ' I can ans« er for yours, my son,' said 
the captain ; ' she would rather give up 
every egg upon the farm than to sec you 
plav the coward ur traitor to save your prop- 
erty.' 

" Michael, finding that he could make no im- 
pression upon the fears tu' the avarice of the 
boys, determined to carry their fortifications 
b)' storm. Accordingly he procured a heavy 
fence-rail, and commenced the assault upon 
the door. It soon came to pieces, and the 
upper logs fell out, leaving a space of about 



three feet at the top. Michael boldly en- 
tered the breach, when, by the articles of 
war, sticks were thrown aside as no longer 
lawful weapons. He was resolutely met on 
the half-demolished rampart by Peter Jones 
and William Smith, supported by James 
Griffin. These were the three largest boys 
in the school ; the first al>out sixteen years 
of age, the second about fifteen, and the 
third just eleven. Twice was Michael re- 
pulsed by these young champions ; but the 
third eft'ort carried him fairly into the fortr 
rcss. Hostilities now ceased for a while, 
and the captain and I, having levelled the 
remaining logs at the door, followed Michael 
into the house. A large three inch plank 
(if it deserve that name, for it was wrought 
from the half of a tree's trunk entirely with 
the axe), attached to the logs by means of 
wooden pins, served the whole school for a 
writing desk. At a convenient di.stanec be- 
low it, and on a line with it, stretched a 
smooth log, resting upon the logs of the 
house, which answered for the writers' scat. 
Michael took his seat upon the desk, placed 
his feet on the scat, and was sitting very 
composedly, when with a simultaneous move- 
ment, Pete and Bill seized each a leg, and 
marched oft" with it in quick time. The 
consequence is obvious; Michael's head first 
took the desk, then the seat, and finally the 
grountl (for the house was not floored), with 
three sonorous thumps of most doleful por- 
tent. No sooner did he touch the ground 
than he was completely buried with boys. 
The three elder laid themselves across liis 
head, neck and breast, the rest arranging 
themselves ad libitum. Michael's equanim- 
ity was considerably disturbed by the first 
thump, became restive with the second, and 
took flight with the third. His first ett'ort 
was to disengage his legs, for without them 
he could not rise, and to lie in his pres- 
ent position was extremely inconvenient and 
undignified. Accordingly he drew up his 
right, and kicked at random. This move- 
ment laid out about six in various direc- 
tions upon the floor. Two rose crying: 
'Ding his old red-headed skin,' said one 
of them, ' to go and kick me right in 
mv sore belly, where I fell down and raked 
it, running after that fellow that cried "school 
butter." '* 



* " I have never been able to satisfy myseir clearly 
as to the literal meauing of these terms. They were 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



37r 



" ' Drot his old snaggle-tooth picture,' said 
;he other, 'to go and hurt my sore toe, where 
I knocked the nail otF going to the spring to 
Fetch a gourd of tvarter for him, and not for 
toysclf n'other.' 

" ' Hut !' said Captain Griffin, ' young 
Washingtons mind these trifles ! At him 
igain.' 

" The name of Washington cured their 
wounds and dried up their tears in an in- 
stant, and they legged him de novo. The 
lleft leg treated six more as unceremoniously 
las the right had those just mentioned ; but 
ithe talisnianic name had just fallen upon 
jtheir ears before the kick, so they were in- 
jvulnerable. They therefore returne<l to the 
:attack without loss of time. The struggle 
seemed to wax hotter and hotter for some 
time after Michael came to the ground, and 
he threw the children about in all directions 
and postures, giving some of them thrusts 
; which would have placed the rufflc-shirtcd 
j little darlings of the present day under the 
I discipline of paregoric and opodeldoc for a 
week ; but these hardy sons of the south 
seemed not to feel them. As Michael's head 
grew easy, his limbs, by a natural sympathy, 
became more quiet, and he offered one day's 
holiday as the price. The boys demanded 
a week ; but here the captain interposed, and 
after the common but often unjust custom 
of arbitrators, split the difference. In this 
instance the tei'ins were equitable enough, 
and were immodiatcly acceded to by both 
parties. Michael rose in a good humor, and 
the boys were of course. Loud was their 
talking of their deeds of valor as they re- 
tired. One little fellow about seven years 
old, and about three feet and a half high, 
jumped up, cracked his feet together, and 
exclaimed, 'By jingo, Pete Jones, Bill 
Smith and me can hold any Sinjin [St. John] 
that ever trod Georgy-grit.' " 



considered an unpardonable insult to a country 
scliool, and always justified an attack by the whole 
fraternity upon the person who used them in their 
hearing. I have known the scholars pursue a trav- 
eller two miles to be revenged of the insult. Prob- 
ably they are a corruption of ' The school's better.' 
' &Uer' was the term commonly used of old to de- 
note a superior, as it sometimes is in our day: 
'Wait till your betters are served,' for example. I 
conjecture, therefore, the expression just alluded to 
was one of challenge, contempt, and defiance, by 
whicli the person who used it avowed himself the 
superior in all respects of the whole school, from the 
preceptor down. If any one can give a better ac- 
count of it, I shall be pleased to receive it." 



AN OLD FIELD SCHOOL, OR ACADEMY, IN 
VIRGINIA. 

The experience of one of that class of 
teachers, who found temporary occupation 
in teaching the children of one or more fam- 
ilies of planters in Virginia and other .south- 
ern states, will be found in the " Travels of 
Four Years and a Half in the United States 
(in 1798, 1799, 1800, 1801 and 1802), by 
John Davis." Mr. Davis was an English- 
man of more than ordinary education and 
of social address, and while in this country 
numbered among his friends such men as 
Aaron Burr, President Jefferson, and other 
men of high political standing. Ho was a 
pri\-ate tutor in New York, South Carolina 
and Virginia, and his graphic sketches of 
men and manners show some of the defi- 
ciencies iu the means of educaticm which 
even wealthy planters in the southern states 
experienced. With letters of introduction 
from President Jefferson he proceeds to the 
plantation of a Mr. Ball, and is engaged to 
teach his and his neighbors' children : 

" The following day every farmer came 
from the neighborhood to the house, who 
had any children to send to my Academy, 
for such they did me the honor to term the 
log-hut in which I was to teach. Each man 
iu'ought his son, or his daughter, and re- 
joiced that the day was arrived wlicn their 
little ones could light their tapers at the 
torch of knowledge ! I was confounded at 
the encomiums they heaped upon a man 
whom they had never seen before, and was 
at a loss what construction to put upon 
their speech. No price was too great for 
the services I was to render their children ; 
and they all expressed an eagerness to ex- 
change perishable coin for lasting knowl- 
edge. If I would continue with them seven 
years ! only seven years ! they would ereet 
for me a brick seminary on a hill not far off; 
but for the present I was to occupy a log- 
house, which, however homely, would soon 
vie with the sublime college of William and 
Mary, and consign to oblivion the renowned 
acaclemy in the vicinity of Fauquier Court- 
House. I thought Englishmen sanguine ; 
but these Virginians were infatuated. 

" I now opened what some called an acad- 
emy,* and others an Old Field School ; 

* " It is worth the while to describe the academy 
I occupied on Mr. Ball's plantation. It had one 
room and a half. It stood on blocks about two feet 



SIS' 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



and, however it may be thought that con- 
tent was never felt within the walls of a 
seminary, I, for my part, experienced an ex- 
empti(.)n from care, and was not such a focjl 
as to measure the happiness of my condition 
by what others thouirht of it. 

" It was pleas\irablc to behold ni}' pupils 
enter the school over which I presided ; for 
they were not composed only of truant boys, 
but some of the tiiirest damsels in the coun- 
try. Two sisters generally rode on one 
horse to the school-door, and I was not so 
great a pedagogue as to refuse them my as- 
sistance to dismount from their steeds. A 
running-footman of the negro tribe, who 
followed with their food in a basket, took 
care of tlie beast ; and after being saluted 
by the young ladies with the courtesies of 
the morning, I proceeded to instruct them, 
with gentle exhortations to diligence of 
study. 

" Common books were only designed for 
common minds. The unconnected lessons 
of Scot, the tasteless selections nf Bingham, 
the florid liarangues of Noah Webster, and 
the somniferous compilation of Alexander, 
were either thrown aside, or suffered to 
gather dust on the shelf; while the charm- 
ing essays of Goldsmith, and his not less 
delectable Novel, together with the impres- 
sive work of Defoe, and the mild produc- 
tions of Addison, conspired to enchant the 
fancy, and kindle a love of reading. The 
thoughts of these writers became engrafted 
on the minds, and the combiuations of their 
diction on the languao'c of the pupils. 

" Of the boys I cannot speak in very en- 
comiastic terms; but they were perhaps like 
all other school-boys, that is, more disposed 
to play truant than enlighten their minds. 



and a half above tlie ground, where there was free 
access to the hogs, the dogs, and the poultry. It 
had no ceiling, nor was the roof lathed or plaster- 
ed, but covered with sliiugles. Hence, when it 
rained, like tlie nephew of old Elwes, I moved my 
bed (for I slept in my academy) to the most com- 
fortable corner. It had one window, but no glass, 
nor shutter. In the night, to remedy this, the mu- 
latto wench who waited on me, contrived very in- 
geniously to i>lace a square board against tlie win- 
dow with one hand, and fix the rail of a broken 
down fence .against it with the other In the morn- 
ing, when I returned from breakfasting in tlio 
'great big house,' (my scholars being oolleetod,) I 
gave the rail a forcible kick with my foot, and down 
tumliled the lioard witli an awful roar. 'Is not my 
window,' said I to Virginia, ' of a very curious con- 
struction?' 'Indeed, indeed, .sir,' replied my fair 
disciple, 'I think it is a mighty noisy one.' " 



The most important knowledge to an Amer- 
ican, after that of himself, is the geography 
of his country. I, therefore, put into the 
hands of my boys a proper book, and ini- 
tiated them by an attentive reading of the 
discoveries of the Genoese ; I was even so 
minute as to impress on their minds the 
man who first descried land on board the 
ship of Columbus. That man was Roderic 
Triana, and on my exercising the nu'niory 
of a boy by asking him the name, he very 
gravely made answer, Roderic Random. 

" Among my male students was a New 
Jersey gentleman of thirty, whose object 
was to be initiated in tlie language of Cicero 
and Virgil. He had before studied the 
Latin grammar at an academy school (I use 
his own words) in his native state ; but the 
academy school being burnt down, his gram- 
mar, alas ! was lost in the conflagration, 
and he had neglected the pursuit of litera- 
ture since the destruction of his book. 
When I asked him if he did not think it 
was some <T<ith who had set tire to his acad- 
emy school, he made answer, ' So, it is like 
enough.' 

" iMr. Dye did not study Latin to refine 
his taste, direct liis judgment, or enlarge his 
imagination ; but merely that he might bo 
enabled to teach it when he opened school, 
which was his serious design. He had been 
bred a carpenter, but he panted for the hon- 
ors of literature.'' 

Mr. Davis accounts for his fidelity in 
teaching more houi's than he was rccpured 
to do by his contract, by his interest in the 
lessons of one of his female pupils : 

" Hence I fi-cipiently protracted the stud- 
ies of the children till one, or half past one 
o'clock ; a practice that did not fail to call 
forth the exclamations both of the white 
and the black people. LTpon my word, Mr. 
Ball would s.ay, this gentleman is diligent ; 
and Aunt Patty the negro cook would re- 
mark, ' He good cool-mossa that ; he not 
like old Ilodgkiuson and old Harris, who 
let the boys out before twelve. He deserve 
good wages i" 

" Having sent the 3'oung ladies to the 
family mansion, I told the boys to break 
up, and in a few minutes they who had 
even breathed with circumspection, now 
gave loose to the most riotous Tucriinicnt, 
and betook themselves to the woods, follow- 
ed by all the dogs on the plantation." 

" There w.as a carpenter on the planta- 
tion, wdiom Mr. Ball had hired by the year. 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR KLKMENTART SCHOOLS. 



379 



He bad tools of all kinds, and the recreation 
of Mr. l>ye, after the labor of study, was to 
get under the shade of au oak, and make 
tables, or benches, or stools for the acade- 
my. So true is the assertion of Horace, 
that the cask will always retain the flavor 
of the liquor with which it is first impreg- 
nated. 

" ' Well, Mr. Dye, what are you doing ?' 

" ' I am making a table for the academy 
school.' 

'" What wood is that?' 

" ' It is white oak, sir.' 

" ' What, then you are skilled in trees, yon 
can tell oak from hickory, and ash from tir V 

" ' Like enough, sir. (A broad grin.) I 
ought to know those things ; I served my 
time to it.' 

" ' Carpenter. — I find, sir, Mr. Dye lias done 
with his old trade ; he is above employing 
his hands ; he wants work for the brain. 
Well ! larning is a fine thing ; there's noth- 
ing like larning. I have a son only five 
years old, that, with proper larning, I should 
not despair of seeing a member of Congress. 
He is a boy of genus ; he could play on the 
.lews-harp from only seeing Sambo tune it 
once.' 

" * Mr. Dije. — I guess that's Billy ; he is a 
right clever child.' 

" ' Carpenter. — How long, sir, will it take 
you to learn Mr. Dye Latin V 

" ' Sclioolmnster. — How long, sir, would it 
take me to ride from Jlr. Ball's jjlantation 
to the plantation of Mr. Wormley Carter?' 

" ' Carpenter. — Why that, sir, I suppose, 
would depend upon your horse.' 

" ' Schoolmaster. — Well, then, sir, 3'ou 
solve your own interrogation. But here 
comes Dick. What has he got in his hand?' 

" ' Mr. Dye. — A mole like enough. Who 
are you bringing that to, Dick V 

" ' Dick. — Not to you. You never gave 
me the taste of a dram since I first know'd 
you. Worse luck to me; you New Jorsc}' 
men are close sha\-ers ; I believe you would 
skin a louse. This is a mole. I have 
brought it for the gentleman who came from 
beyond sea. He never refuses Dick a dram; 
I would walk through the wilderness of Ken- 
tucky to serve him. Lord! how quiet he 
keeps his school. It is not now as it was ; 
the boys don't go clack, clack, clack, like 
'Squire Pendleton's mill upon Catharpin 
Run !' 

" ' Schoolmaster. — You have brought that 
mole, Dick, for me.' 



" ' Dick. — Yes, master, but first let me tell 
you the history of it. This mole was once 
a man ; see, master (Dick exhibits the mole), 
it has got hands and feet just like you and 
me. It was once a man, but so proud, so 
lofty, so pufl'ed-up, that God, to punish his 
insolence, condemned him to crawl under 
the earth.' 

" ' Schoolmaster. — A good fable, and not 
unhap])ily moralized. Did you ever hear or 
read of this before, Mr. Dye ?' 

" ' Mr. Dye. — Nay (a broad grin), I am 
riglit certain it does not belong to ..Esop. 
I am certain snre Dick did not find it there.' 

"'j9/cX\ — Find it where? I would not 
w-rong a man of the value of a gram of corn. 
I came across the mole as I was hoeing the 
potato-patch. Master, shall I take it to the 
school-house ? If you are fond of birds, I 
know now for a mocking-bird's nest ; I am 
only afeared those young rogues, the school- 
boys, will find out the tree. They j)lay the 
mischief with every thing, they be full of 
devilment. I saw Jack Lockliart throw a 
stone at the old bird, as she was returning 
to feed her young; and if I had not coaxed 
him away to look at my young puppies, he 
would have found out the nest.' 

" I had been three months invested in 
the first executive office of pedagogue, 
when a cunning old fox of a New Jersey 
planter (a Mr. Lee) discovered that his eld- 
est boy wrote a better hand than I. Fame 
is swift-footed ; vires acquirit (undo ; the 
discoveiy spread far and wide ; and whither- 
soever I went, I was an object for the hand 
of scorn to point his slow unmoving finger 
at, as a schoolmaster that could not write. 
Virginia gave me for the persecutions I 
underwent a world of sighs, her swelling 
heavens rose and fell with indignation at old 
Lee and his abettors. But the boys caught 
spirit from the discovery. I could perceive 
a mutiny breaking out among them ; and 
had I not in time broke down a few branches 
from an apple tree before my door, it is 
probable they would have displayed their 
gratitude for my instructions by throwing 
me out of raj- school-window. But by argu- 
ing with one over the shoulders, and another 
over the back, I maintained with dignity the 
first executive office of pedagogue. 

" I revenged myself amply on old Lee. 
It was the custom of his son (a lengthy fel- 
low of about twenty) to come to the acade- 
my with a couple of huge mastift's at his 
heels. Attached to their master [par nobile 



380 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATION U, INSTITUTION'S. 



fratrum) they entered without ccfcmony 
Polioke Aoademy, bringing with them inyr- 
iad-i of fleas, wood-hoe, and ticks. Xay, 
they would often annoy Virginia, by throw- 
ing themselves at her feet, and inflaming the 
choler of a little lap-dog, which I had bought 
because of his diminutive size, and which 
Virginia delighted to nurse for me. I could 
perceive the eye of Virginia rebuke me for 
suffering the dogs to annoy her; and there 
lay more peril in her eye than in the jaws 
of all the mastiffs in Prince William (!ounty. 

" ' jMr. Lee,' said I, ' this is the third time 
I have told you not to convert the academy 
into a kennel, and bring your dogs to school.' 
Lee was mending liis pen 'judgmatically.' 
He made no reply, but smiled. 

" I knew old Dick the negro had a bitch, 
and that his bitch was proud. I walked 
down to Dick's log-house. Dick was beat- 
ing flax. 

" ' Dick,' said I, ' old Farmer Lee has 
done me much evil — (I don't like the old 
man myself, master, said Dick) — and Lis 
son, repugnant to my express commands, 
has brought his father's two plantation dogs 
to the academv. Revenge is sweet — ' 

" ' Right, master,' said Dick. ' I never 
felt so happy as when I bit oft' Cuft'ey's 
great toe and swallowed it — 

" ' Do you, Dick,' said I, ' walk past the 
school-house with your bitch. Lee's dogs 
will come out after her. Go round with 
them to your log-house; and when you have 
once secured them, hang both of them up by 
the neck.' 

" ' Leave it to me, master,' said Dick. 
'I'll fix the business for you in a few min- 
utes. I have a few fadoms of rope in my 
house — that will do it.' 

" I returned to the academy. The dogs 
■were stretched at their ease on the floor. 
' Oh ! I am glad you are come,' exclaimed 
Virginia ; ' those great big dogs have quite 
scared me.' 

" In a few minutes Dick passed the door 
with his slut. Quick from the floor rose 
Mr. Lee's two dogs, and followed the female. 
The rest may be supplied by the imagina- 
tion of the reader. Dick hung up both 
the dogs to the branch of a pine-tree ; old 
Lee lost the guards to his plantation ; the 
negroes broke open his barn, pilfered his 
sacks of Indian corn, rode his horses in the 
night — and thus was I revenged on Alexan- 
der the coppersmith. 

" Three months had now clajised, and I 



was commanded officially to re-ign mv mi\(>- 
reign authority to Mr. Dye. who was in 
every respect better ijualilied to di-ii-h;iii;y 
its sacred functions. He understood t;uo 
and tret, wrote a copper-plate hand, and, 
balancing himself upon one leg, could flour- 
ish angels and corkscrews. I, therefore, 
gave up the ' academy school' to Mr. Dye, 
to the joy of the boys, but the sorrow of 
Virginia." 

Whilst schools were thus poorly equipped 
and the instruction given was thus defective 
in its methods and meagre in its extent, it 
becomes of interest to inq\iire whence such 
a measure of general intelligence and so 
many individual cases of attaining to an emi- 
nent position in society. This was the re- 
sult of no single cause alone, but of a variety 
in combination. 

The first of these that may be named, both 
in its influence upon childhood and upon 
manhood, was the necessity of a hard fought 
battle for existence, but relieved by the as- 
surance that victory would be the reward of 
persistent exertion. Its results were robust- 
ness, patience of toil, resoluteness and per- 
severance in encountering difliculties, and 
fertility of resources. The rustic lad, — and 
making the necessary variations, we include 
the female sex with the representative male, 
— the rustic lad who had been trained to 
help his parents from the moment he had 
acquired .strength to steady his steps, to toil 
on all the same whether the bright sun 
cheered him or the chill air benumbed his 
limbs ; whether his tasks were varied, pleas- 
ant aiid light, or, on the contrary, he had 
learned patience, inarching beside the jiaticnt 
ox all the long hours of a long s]M'ing day, 
the animals only alternating with othci's 
which served as relays ; and had been no 
stranger to such discipline as picking stones 
in the stubble whilst the sad heavens distil- 
led a drizzly rain, they condensing all their 
gloom in his soul, but withheld those large 
and frequent drops wdiich would have been 
the sign.al of his release ; and among the 
least severe of whose lessons in acquiring 
hardihood had been, in gathering the fruits 
of autumn, to face its frosts without mittens 
or .shoos ; this lad f)und nothing in tlie difli- 
culties of the school-room to appall him, and 
storms and deep drifts rather added zest to 
his dailv walks. Xo unintelligible jargon of 
the spelling book, no abstruse section in his 
reader, was an overmatch for his industry. 




NTERIOR VIEW OF A SCHOOL-HOfSK I.V 1S70. 



1 

[ 


i 

i 


■ •.,■ V: 


1 











PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



381 



;True, he did not understand all he studied, 
but he learned to spell and to read and to 
cotiiinit to memory what was assigned him. 
lAnd when he took his arithmetic, which con- 
tained only definitions, rules and examples, 
lalthoiigh his teacher vouchsafed him little 
jexplaiiation, he had perseverance enough to 
iponder every dark process till light broke 
through. And there were instances of boys 
who worked for consecutive hours and days 
at problems confessedly some of the most 
knotty that could be found, till at last their 
unaided exertions were rewarded with suc- 
cess, which brought more exquisite joy than 
ever thrilled the finder of a rare gem. These 
exceptional cases stimulated the more dull, 
and most became possessed of at least the 
rudiments of the science, quite sufficient for 
practical life, or which under the stimulus of 
necessity became subsequently enlarged to 
that extent. In manhood no blind adherence 
to traditional methods was or could be ob- 
served. Emergencies were constantly arising 
which taxed ingenuity to the utmost in de- 
vising the fitting expedients to meet them. 
It was a daily study to make the narrowest 
means serve the same ends as the amplest. 
Hard thought was expended without stint 
upon labor-saving processes, improvements 
and inventions. Thus was gained a disci- 
pline of mind beyond what the higher col- 
lege mathematics usually imparts, and oft- 
times a readiness in applying mechani- 
cal principles, of which many an engineer 
trained in tlie schools is utterly devoid, how- 
ever prompt he may be in the routine to 
which he is accustomed. 

The family training, aside from the inuring 
of children to patient industry, contributed 
greatly to their profiting from their school 
privileges. To do or not to do was not then 
left so generally to the child's pleasure. He 
was made to obey before he had experienced 
the delight of carrying into effect his own 
will in opposition to that of others; and 
thus was formed the habit of unquestioning 
compliance with the requirements of parents. 
When the child could understand the sub- 
ject, he was tauglit that however irksome at 
times were the tasks imposed upon him, it 
was only in virtue of the allotment that man 
was to cat bread by the sweat of his brow, 
and that only by a cheerful performance of 
what was within his power could he make a 
return for the care he was continually re- 
ceiving. Thus from a sense of religious and 
filial obligation the rigor of their early disci- 
23* 



pline was the more easily sustained. Self- 
control and a certain measure of self-reliance 
were results of the discipline of infancy 
even ; and in advancing childhood it was in- 
culcated in the house and in the field, that 
each must depend upon himself for what- 
ever he was to lie and to possess in life. 
And knowledge, knowledge that was not the 
mere blind recipient of instruction, intelli- 
gent knowledge which perceived relations, 
and reasoning knowledge which could make 
the practical application as opportunity 
served, was set forth as the condition indis- 
pensable to render exertion successful. Hence 
it was a prized privilege to go to school, as 
well as a pleasant exchange for physical toil 
for a brief period, an exchange of work at 
home for another \'ariety of work in the 
school-room, not of one manner of busy idle- 
ness and mischief for another. Also in many 
cases the home was itself a school, and either 
that knowledge was thei'e gained which oth- 
ers acquired at school, or study was further 
pursued under the guidance of parent, or 
brother or sister, who by some happy gift 
of Providence had required little tuition. 
Often also, winter evenings or other hours, 
when the labor of one pair of hands might 
be spared, were passed in the social reading 
of instructive books. 

The listening every seventh day to two 
di^courses, wherein were discussed the deep- 
est theories which can be proposed to man, 
may be named as an additional item in the 
answer to our inquir3'. The clei'gymen of 
that day liad received the best education 
that the country afforded, and were daily 
cultivating intimacy with the profoundest 
theologians. Thus they had ever thoughts 
which they had originated or had made their 
own to present. And these thoughts were 
inwardly digested by a goodly number of 
their hearers, and becoming a part of their 
being, they too 

"reasoned high 
Of Providence, foreknowledge, will and fate, 
Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute;" 

and if they " found no end," they were not 
" in wandering mazes lost," for, unlike the 
lost angels, they ruled their discussions by 
the inftillible word of inspiration. It cannot 
be said that sericjus thought then bored, or 
that the sparkle of the unsubstantial poem 
chiefly drew, or tliat triviality was the char- 
acteristic of the multitude. 

The study of one book, and that the Bible, 
simple enough in parts to meet the under- 



382 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



standing of the little child, and of interest 
enough to absorb his attention, and in other 
parts of depths which no finite intellect can 
sound, and everywliere vise above the wis- 
dom of men, and witliout any alloy of error, 
was one of the most efficacious means of 
raising tlie mass of the people in intelligence, 
and in educating a few, who made it their 
constant meditation, to a nicety of discrimi- 
nation and a profundity of thought truly 
wonderful. Take as an example one silvery 
haired man whoso memory is cherished with 
veneration. His school privileges had been 
less even than the scanty amount of most 
of his contemporaries, hardly amounting to 
thiee winter schools in all. Moreover, weak- 
ness of the eyes almost cut him off from 
reading books and papers throughout his 
life. But he was able to read daily a few 
verses, sometimes several chapters, in his 
large quarto Bible, and when he read aloud, 
all untaught as he was, he read with a natu- 
ralness and gave the sense, so that the hearer 
marvelled. Comparing scripture with scrip- 
ture, he had attained to a skill in interpret- 
ing which seldom erred. Ilis quickness in 
detecting a fallacy or in observing a doc- 
trine which harmonized not with the living 
oracles was surpassed by very few of even 
the most highly educated of schoolmen, lie 
was cxceedinglv retiring, but to the few who 
knew him, his life and his language seemed 
as correct as the words of that book on 
which both, with perfect naturalness, with- 
out any tinge of formality or quaintness, were 
modeled. Who will venture to say that this 
man's education was not incomparably supe- 
rior to that of him who has delved a whole 
life in conflicting systems, who has sought 
to know the thoughts of all reported as 
great, but who has settled nothing for him- 
self? 

The political principles which found their 
expression in the declaration of independ- 
ence, and which were a cherished inheri- 
tance from the fathers, loading to a general 
participation in the government of the coun- 
try, and producing the habit of earnestly 
debating every question of public concern, 
had no small share of influence in exciting 
intensity and energy of mental action. By 
the fireside, in the field, at the corners of the 
streets, in the shops and stores, those pow- 
ers were developed which had further exer- 
cise in the town meeting, and carried their 
possessor to some humble position of trust 
or authority ; and when here trained and 



shown to be capable of sustaining higher 
responsibilities, advanced him again, so that 
he who had forged iron chains, was chosen 
to fashion the more eflicacious restraints of 
laws; he who had occupied the cobbler's 
seat, was promoted to the bench of justice; 
and he who had been wont to rule oxen was 
thought worthy to govern men. 

The newspaper, and the family, and the 
village library contributed largely to the 
general intelligence. The weekly paper fur- 
nished no small part of the topics of conver- 
sation in the family and among neighbors, 
and, in particular, supplied the pabulum for 
political discussions. The few books owned 
or borrowed were carefully read again and 
again. The small proprietary libraries fur- 
nislied some of the most valuable histories 
and the choicest works in belles-lettres. It 
was not of rare occurrence to find persons 
who showed familiarity with Rollin, Fergu- 
son, Gibbon, Robertson, and Hume ; and 
sometimes one might oven be met, who 
could give an orderly account of an entire 
work of these authors ; and there wore many 
who could repeat favorite ]>oems, perad ven- 
ture even the entire Night Thoughls of Dr. 
Young, if that was the chosen vade niecum. 
Even some children of twelve or fifteen years 
of age, — barefoot boys who had only " noon- 
ings" and the time they might gain by man- 
ual dexterity in accomplishing their " stents," 
— had perused several of the voluminous 
historians named above. How will such 
lads compare in mental strength and \igor 
with children who willingly read nothing but 
the most exciting tales or the most intellec- 
tual pap made toothsome ? 

The obsorvaticm of men and of nature, 
pursued to good advantage where no un- 
bending usages restrained free development 
of character, no wrappings of conventionali- 
ties gave a unifonn semblance to all, where 
the woods and the waters and the inhabi- 
tants thereof had only begun to recognize 
the dominion of man, quickened too by 
the necessity of turning to account every 
item of knowledge that could be gained, was 
an ample equivalent for the more compre- 
hensive speculations of mental philosophy 
and the scientific nomenclatures and descrip- 
tions of natural history to be learned from 
the mouth of the lecturer. 

Finally, those defective schools of the past 
generatiim did place the key of knowledge 
in the hands of the inquisitive ; which is 
nearly all that the schools of the present day 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



383 



accomplish, or at least is their most \'ahiable 
result. With reading, writing, and the ele- 
ments of arithmetic, and the stimulus of 
necessity and emulation, and perhaps reli- 
gious principle added, he who felt any of the 
inspiration of genius, or who became con- 
scious of a talent that had been improved, 
might advance with a speedier flight or a 
slower and more toilsome step up the steep 
ascent to the temple of knowledge, and sit 
a crowned king on one of her numberless 
thrones. Books procured and mastered one 
at a time, moments of leisure seized and im- 
proved, oneness of aim and unfaltering per- 
severance, wrought the result. 

It is a plain inference that school educa- 
tion, as the correlate of the professional 
teacher's labors, usually receives credit to 
which it is not entitled. As we have else- 
where remarked, with all the agencies for 
the education and improvement of teachers, 
the public schools of Europe, with their in- 
stitutions of government and society, do 
not turn out such practical and eflScient 
men as our own common schools, acting in 
concert with our religious, social and politi- 
cal institutions. A boy educated in a dis- 
trict school of New England, taught for a 
few months in the winter, by a rough, half- 
educated, but live teacher, who is earning 
his way by his winter's work in the school- 
room out of the profession into something 
which will pay better, and in the summer 
by a young female, just out of the eldest 
class of the winter school, and with no other 
knowledge of teaching than what she may 
have gathered by observation of the diverse 
practices of some ten or twelve instructors 
who must have taught the school under the 
intermittent and itinerating system which 
prevails universally in the country districts 
of New England — a boy thus taught through 
his school-life, but subjected at home and 
abroad to the stirring influences of a free 
press, of town and school district meetings, 
of constant intercourse with those who are 
mingling in the world, and in the affairs of 
public life, and beyond all these influences, 
subjected early to the wholesome discipline, 
both moral and intellectual, of taking care 
of himself, and the aflfairs of the house and 
the farm, will have more capacity for busi- 
ness, and exhibit more intellectual activity 
and versatility than the best scholar who 
ever graduated from a Prussian school, but 
whose school-life, and especially the years 
which immediately follow, are subjected to 



the depressing and repressing influences of 
a despotic government, and to a state of 
society in which e\ery thing is fixed both 
by law and the iron rule of custom. But 
this superiority is not due to the school, 
but is gained in spite of the school. 

Now when the causes which conduced to 
this superiority are less operative and less 
general, the improvement of schools becomes 
doubly important. This can be etfected only 
as the moulders of educational institutions 
intelligently apprehend their proper aim, or, 
in other words, the due relation of school 
education to education in its enlarged sense, 
and as they succeed in leading teachers to a 
judicious direction of their efforts, and to 
the employment of methods adapted to the 
end in view. Omitting the consideration 
of the last topic suggested as not embraced 
in the design of this article, we shall have 
before us a practical aim, in addition to sup- 
plying the criterion for estimating the ex- 
cellences and the defects of the education of 
the past and the present, if we consider as 
well as we may the question, 

WHAT IS EDUCATION? 

To facilitate the attainment of definiteness 
and accuracy of the conception, we shall 
attempt to distinguish the related ideas. 
And, 

1. Formation of character, which is the 
most comprehensive of these related ideas, 
represents the combined result of human, 
natural and supernatural agencies in fashion- 
ing every lineament of the man in every de- 
partment of his inner being. The human 
agency embraces parent, brother, sister, 
nurse, playmate, teacher, chosen companion, 
casual acquaintance, in short, all of his kind, 
contemporaries or predecessors, who have 
directly or indirectly contributed to the 
moulding of the man. The natural agency 
is the external world or physical universe, 
which in its influence upon persons similarly 
situated varies with their susceptibility. The 
supernatural agency comprehends that exer- 
cise of the sovereign power of the great 
First Cause, which places the individual in 
the special condition and relations that at- 
tend him on his introduction into existence 
and throughout his life, with whatever of 
direct operations there may be upon the 
mind,experienced consciously or unconscious- 
ly, of divine, angelic or demoniacal origin. 
The estimate of this last influence will de- 



384 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



pend upon the theological views entertained. 
Character is raised to its highest elevation 
when the prevailing motive in the conduct 
of life is regard tor the perfect will of God ; 
and it is then called piety. Education view- 
ed actively is not the correlative of forma- 
tion of character, neither, viewed as a result, 
is it identical therewith. However we may 
employ sensible objects or those only con- 
ceived of, it proceeds by human agency 
alone. Whilst the disorganization of the 
human constitution has proved beyond the 
ability of mere education to rectify, on the 
supposition that perfection of character was 
attained, education might go on indefinitely. 
Formation of character gives a certain com- 
bination of features or qualities ; education 
presents cultivated susceptibilities and stores 
of gathered treasures. Strictly, education 
is always immediate. We may employ an- 
other, or assist in preparing him, to edu- 
cate a third person ; but if this is all, we are 
not ourselves with him educators of that 
person. 

2. The development of the faculties is the 
second related idea. Development is the un- 
folding of something which had existed only 
in embryo, by exciting its dormant vital 
energy or inherent force to activity. The 
result of the development of the mental fac- 
ulties is power, power, intellectual, moral, and 
voluntary; power of instigating and power of 
controlling action. When the moral faculty 
or conscience controls action in all the rela- 
tions of a man to his fellow-men, rectitude 
or uprightness is the result. It is the func- 
tion of education to superintend the devel- 
opment of the faculties, accelerating that of 
some, circumscribing or restraining that of 
others, and to regulate them in their exer- 
cise. Development, even when regulated by 
education, must fail to give to man perfec- 
tion of character, for it neither gives nor 
takes away, and hence original imperfection 
must remain, though it may be partially con- 
cealed. In an unregulated but stimulated 
development the proportions of what is fair 
would be outgrown and obscured by all 
forms of ugliness. 

3. Training, of which the third related 
idea is the conception, is directed specifi- 
cally to the forming of habits. Thus from 
the earliest mental training tliere may pro- 
ceed the habits of obedience, order, neat- 
ness, trust, gentleness, kindness, self-denial, 
&c. ; from corporeal training habits of mo- 
tion, and physical action in general. Educa- 



tion is not, like training, directed exclusively 
to the forming of habits. This is rather its 
preliminary work. 

4. Instruction is the communication of 
knowledge which may be of value to the re- 
cipient, either in itself or as a means to a re- 
moter end. Education gives the discipline 
which turns knowledge to account. Instruc- 
tion calls into exercise a sort of passive ac- 
tivity, a reception of facts and a perception 
of relations as presented. Education trains 
the pupil to discover relations, and to make 
deductions from facts, and thus excites an 
independent activity. Teachers and books 
instruct when they convey thoughts and ex- 
plain processes ; they educate in so far as 
they lead the pupil or reader to think for 
himself and to institute new processes. In- 
struct a man, and he will become well in- 
formed in regard to the subject of the in- 
struction ; educate a man, and his mind will 
be not only furnished, but also disciplined 
and cultivated in proportion to its capacity 
and the extent of the process. Precisely the 
same process may be instruction in one re- 
spect and education in another. Often, how- 
ever, their methods are essentially different, 
for instruction may simply labor to facili- 
tate to the utmost the acquisition of know- 
ledge, but education, whilst careful to adapt 
its requirements to the strength of the 
learner, introducing its severer methods 
gradually, and never prematurely assigning 
the abstruser branches of study, only directs 
the learner how to encounter the difficulties 
of his path, and leaves him to take every 
step for himself, aiming to bring him as soon 
as possible to the condition where he may 
dispense with all aid. Tims, although in- 
struction and education are inseparable, there 
may be much instruction where there is very 
little education, and very little instruction 
where there is much education. Instruction 
is limited to what the teacher does ; educa- 
tion is measured by what the pupil is ren- 
dered competent to perform. 

5. Tuition, distinctively regarded, has for 
its end simply advancement in specific 
branches of study. It is related to educa- 
tion in its restricted sense as a part to a 
whole. Also, it is objective only. 

Educatioti, in its enlarged sense, is the dis- 
ciplining, ctiltivating, and furnishing of the 
mind of man, as a man, and for the particu- 
lar position which he is to hold. It is thus 
general and special ; general, so far as it 
seeks to advance man towards the perfection 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 



385 



'of his being; special, so far as it is directed 
jto preparation for a particular spliere of ac- 
tivity. Discipline gives trained strength, 
I the ability to exercise developed power at 
I will. Culture brings the mind into the con- 
jdition, relative to its capacity, to produce 
what is useful and beautiful and good and 
true. The furniture of the mind is its 
general stores. Incidental to the principal 
objects of education is physical culture. Edu- 
cation regards the body as a casket which 
must be guarded well, that the contents re- 
ceive no injury ; as a servant to be kept in 
good condition for the master's benefit. 

Education in its restricted sense is that 
extent of mental discipline, culture and fur- 
niture, to be systematically gained under the 
direction of a teacher, which is requisite to 
the indefinite improvement of the pupil by 
himself, or to his independent completion 
of his preparation for his business in life. 
It is thus, like education in its enlarged 
sense, general and special. 

This last definition determines the sphere 
to which the teacher is limited, and which 
he must occupy as completely as possible. 
It dictates no uniform course or method. 
These must be varied to suit the character 
and circumstances of pupils. It prescribes 
for each simply the text that is practicable, 
not every thing which is desirable. Beyond 
the mere fundamental branches of knowl- 
edge it makes the furnishing of the mind a 
secondary end. It utterly forbids the stri- 
ving to make every pupil the recipient of 
all the sciences. In the most extended course 
of study it marks out the pupil's becoming 
an adequate self-educator as the limit of the 
teacher's duties, and the aim for the attain- 
ment of which he must strive. It counten- 
ances no forcing processes, which generate 
mei'e hot-bed developments, and pre\ent all 
possibility of the solid growth requisite to 
convert the tender plant into the majes- 
tic tree ; and least of all, no measure tending 
to blunt the sensibilities or sour the dispo- 
sition. It admits that the most valuable 
part of education is what is superadded to 
the labors of the teacher, or goes on inde- 
pendently of him, but it requires of him un- 
ceasing watchfulness over his pupils, and 
consummate wisdom and skill in direct- 
ing their studies and guiding their efi'orts. 
Finally, if it permits time and effort to be 
devoted chiefly to literary attainments, it 
implies that all intellectual acquisitions must 
be made subordinate to moral culture. 



We will close this chapter by marking 
some of the successive steps, agencies, and 
results, in the development of our present 
system of public elementary education. 

1. As has been already remarked, in the 
reconstruction of civil society which follow- 
ed the change from colonies to independ- 
ent states in confederated and afterward na- 
tional union, the necessity and wisdom of 
making some provision for the education of 
children was generally recognized, aud in 
some instances thoroughly and liberallv pro- 
vided for in the fundamental laws. 

The constitution of Massachusetts adopts 
cd in 1780 has this provision: "Wisdom 
and knowledge as well as virtue ditfused 
generally among the body of the people, 
being necessary for the preservation of their 
rights and liberties, and as these depend on 
spreading the opportunities and advantages 
of education in the various parts of the 
country, and among the difi'erent orders of 
the people, it shall be the duty of legisla- 
tures and magistrates in all future periods 
of this commonwealth, to cherish the in- 
terests of literature and the sciences, and 
all seminaries, especially the University of 
Cambridge, public schools, and grammar 
schools in the towns ; to encourage private 
societies and public institutions, rewards and 
immunities for the promotion of agriculture, 
arts, sciences, commerce, trades, manufac- 
tures, and a natural history of the country ; 
to countenance and inculcate the principles 
of humanity and general benevolence, public 
and private charity, industry and frugality, 
honesty and punctuality in their dealings ; 
sincerity, good humor, and all social aft'ec- 
tions and generous sentiments among the 
people." In the revision of the school laws 
in 1789, it is provided that "towns of fifty 
families are required to sustain schools 
wherein children are taught to read and 
write, and instructed in the English lan- 
guage, arithmetic, orthography, and decent 
behavior, for a term equal to one school of 
six months in each 3'ear ; every town of one 
hundred families, twelve months ; ever}' town 
of one hundred and fifty families, eighteen 
months ; and every town of two hundred 
families twelve months, and in addition 
thereto sustain a school wherein is taught 
the Latin, Greek and English languages for 
twelve months in each year." It is also 
" made the duty of the president, professors 
and tutors of the University at Cambridge, 
preceptors and teachers of academies, and 



386 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



all Other instructors of youth, to take dili- 
gent care, and to exert their best endeavors 
to impress on the minds of children and 
youth committed to tlieir care and instruc- 
tion the principles of piety, justice and a 
sacred regard to truth, love to their country, 
humanity and universal benevolence, sobrie- 
ty, industry and frugality, chastitv, modera- 
tion and temperance, and those "other vir- 
tues which are the ornament of human so- 
ciety, and the basis npon which the republi- 
can constitution is structured; and it shall 
be the duty of such instructors to endeavor 
to lead those under their care into a particu- 
lar understanding of the tendency of the 
before-mentioned virtues to preserve and 
perfect a republican constitution, and to se- 
cure the blessings of liberty as well as to 
promote their future hajjpiness, and the ten- 
dency of the opposite vices to slavery and 
ruin." 

^Vermont in the constitution adopted in 
179:! ordains "that a C(Uiipetent number of 
schools shall be maintained in each town for 
the convenient instruction of youth, and one 
or more grammar schools to be incorporated 
and propeily siippoiied in each connty," and 
by subsequent legislation imposed the neces- 
sary tax for their support. 

New Hampshire in 1789 empowers and 
requires the selectmen of the several towns I 
to assess an annual tax upon the inhabitants 
for the support of a school or schools for 
teaching, reading, writing and arithmetic, 
and in each county town a grammar school 
for the purpose of teaching"" the Greek and 
Latin languages in addition to the other 
studies. 

Connecticut in 1795, in addition to a 
special tax for the support of common 
schools, collectable with the other public 
taxes, aijpropriated the avails of the .sales 
of three millions of acres of land belono-in<r 
to the state and situated in Ohio— since 
Jvnown as the Western Preserve — as a perpe- 
tual fund for the same object. 

New York in 1795 appropriated $50,000 
annually for the purpose of encouraging 
and maintaining common schools in ''the 
several cities and towns, which were required 
to raise by tax for the same purpose a sum 
equal to one-half the amount received from 
the state. 

Penn.sylvania in the constitution adopted 
in 1790 ordains "that the legislature shall 
provide by law for the establishment of 
schi>ols throughout the state in such manner 



that the poor may be taught gratis ;" " and 
that the arts and sciences shair be promoted 
in one or more seminaries of learning." The 
peculiar feature in the constitution and laws 
ot Pennsylvania providing for the free edu- 
cation of the poor instead of common .schools 
was unfortunately adopted by New Jersey,' 
Delaware, Maryland, and most of the south- 
ern states which had not enjoyed from tlieir 
first beginnings the inestimable advanta<res 
of public schools "g.iod enough for the rfeh 
and cheap enough for the poor." Owing to 
the sparseness of tlieir population, their '" pe- 
culiar institution," and difiiculty of establish- 
ing good school habits in any community, 
public schools have never flourished in the 
southern and south-western states. 

Virginia in 179G passed a general school 
law, a portion of the preambled which is as 
follows : " Whereas, upon a review of the 
history of mankind, it seemeth that, however 
favorable a republican government founded 
on the principles of equal liberty, justice and 
order_ may be to human happiness, no real 
stability or lasting permanency thereof can 
be rationally hoped for, if the minds of the 
citizens be not rendered liberal and humane, 
and be not fully impressed with the im- 
portance of those principles from whence 
these blessings proceed ; with a view, there- 
fore, to lay the first foundations of a sys- 
tem of education which may tend to pro- 
duce those desirable purposes," etc. Georgia, 
Kentucky and Tennessee passed school laws 
with aims as generous as those of the above 
preamble; but the institutions established 
were for higher learning and the few, and 
not for the great masses of the community. 

Ohio, Indiana, and all of the states fornied 
out of the north-western and Louisiana 
territories, as they were admitted into the 
Union, adopted in their organic and early 
laws provi>ions f,)r the appropriation of the 
funds created out of the educational land 
grants of Congress, before spoken of, to the 
support of common schools and colleges, on 
the ]ilan of the eastern states. But It was 
soon found that it was not sufticient to pass 
laws, or even appropriate money liberally for 
the support of .schools; those laws must be 
efhciently and uniformly administered, and 
the condition of the schools be brought con- 
stantly to the attention of the legislature and 
the people. 

2. New York was the first state to create 
an officer to look after the operations of the 
school law, and to advise and assist local 



PROGRESS OF COMMON OR ELEMEXTARY SCHOOLS. 



387 



sclmol officers in its administration. The 
a[>piiintiiieiit bv the legislature in 1813 of 
Gideon Ilawley as superintendent of com- 
mon schools, an<l his annual reports to the 
legislature on the working of the system, 
constitute an important era in the history 
of public instruction in the United States. 
Other states created the oflice, but devolved 
its administration on some other department 
already burdened with other and dissimilar 
duties. In 1S"20 Massachusetts required re- 
turns to be made of the condition of the 
public schools of each town, and in 18:^0 in- 
stituted a state board of education, with a 
salaried secretary whose business it was made 
" to collect information of the actual condi- 
tion and efficiency of the common schools 
and other means of popular education, and 
diffuse as widely as possible throughout 
every part of the state information of the 
most approved methods of conducting the 
education of the young, that they may have 
the best education that common schools can 
be made to impiart." Tliis example was fd- 
lowed by Connecticut in 1838, and in less 
than ten j'cars this great interest of public 
instruction, so far as covered by elementary 
schools, was recognized as a legitimate de- 
partment of the government, in all the 
northern and western states. 

Under the able and enthusiastic leadership 
of Horace Mann, the first secretary of the 
board of education in Massachusetts, the va- 
rious plans and suggestions which had been 
proposed for ten or fifteen years previous, for 
the improvement of common schools, were 
matured and applied in the most efficient 
manner. Conventions of teachers, parents 
and fiiends of popular education were held 
for addresses and discussions, in every state, 
and in almost every county in every state 
which had appointed either a single officer, 
or a board with a paid secretary, to look 
after this interest. The regular and punctual 
attendance of all the children of a suitable 
age at school, the advantages of a gradation 
of schools, of piarental visits to the schools, 
of an association of the teachers for mutual 
improvement, and the visiting of each other's 
schools; the evils arising from an improper 
kication, construction and furniture of school 
houses, from a diversity of text books in the 
same study, from a multiplicity of studies in 
the same school, from the neglect of the 
young pupils and the primary studies, from 
a constant change of teachers, from the em- 
ployment of teachers not properly qualified, 



from severe and unnatural punishments, 
from the want of suitable apparatus, f[Mm 
the mechanical processes of teaching read- 
ing, arithmetic, and other studies, from the 
neglect of moral education, these and other 
subjects were discussed in official reports, in 
the public press, and in professional school 
journals. Out of the more enlightened and 
interested public ojiiuion of the country, 
in neighborhoods, villages, and cities, have 
resulted wise legislation, efficient organiza- 
tion, vigorous administration, and liberal ap- 
propriations, in respect to the material outfit 
of schools; and with these, but not as rapidly 
or as widely, have grown up better school at- 
tendance, more philosophical arrangement of 
studies, and improved methods of instruction 
and discipline. 

o. Since 1840 the most marked improve- 
ment in the organization, administration and 
instruction of public schools, has been made 
in the larger cities of the several states, 
sometimes under the general school law of 
the state, but generally under special legisla- 
tion. With the exception of Boston and a 
few of the other large cities of New Eng- 
land, the system of public schools was alto- 
gether inadequate to the educational wants 
of large communities. Expensive private 
schools were the main reliance for the edu- 
cation of the children of professicinab and 
wealthy famines, while a large number of 
those whose means were inadequate, were 
left without provision for their instruction. 
The establishment of schools of difi'erent 
grades for children of difl^erent ages and 
studies, and especially of primary schools for 
young children under female teachers, and 
of a high school for the older boys and girls 
in studies heretofore pursued only in expen- 
.sive private schools, hasgreatlv increased the 
attendance and ele\ ated the character of the 
public schools of our cities. By means of 
evening schools which have been established 
in many of our cities, the defective educa- 
tion of many young men has been remedied, 
and their various employments have been 
converted into more efficient instruments of 
selfculture. 

4. With the improvement of schools in 
cities and large villages, the establishment 
of normal schools, teachers' associations, 
teachers" institutes, and educational jour- 
nals, and state and local supervision, the 
country schools throughout the northern and 
westei'n states are now in a good and lioj)eful 
condition. 



388 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

ACADEMIES, HIGH SCHOOLS, AND OTHER 
INSTITUTIONS OF SECONDARY EDUCA- 
TION. 

The first puLlic scliools of the American 
colonies were tlie free endowed grammar 
scliools and subscription grammar schools ; 
schools for secondary education. Public pri- 
mary or elementary common schools were 
of later date, both in chronological order, 
and as being a logical result of their prede- 
cessors of higher grade. 

The first school laws, those of Connecti- 
cut and Massachusetts, which were subse- 
quent to the establishment by individuals or 
towns of the classes of schools they referred 
to, recognized all three grades of education- 
al institutions, both what are at present 
termed common or elementary, and also 
secondary or superior ; that is to say, com- 
mon or neighborhood schools, grammar 
schools, and colleges. 

The class of secondary schools, since the 
very earliest period of their estalilishment, 
has been far less cherished and supported, 
either by public opinion or by legal provis- 
ions, than either of the other two classes. 
Almost universally, the academy, the en- 
dowed school, the grammar school, has been 
wholly left to the support of those wealthier 
or more learned classes who have been ta- 
citly assumed to have the only use for them; 
and where any state assistance has been ex- 
tended to them, it has usually been in the ex- 
ceptional form of individual acts of incorpo- 
ration or individual grants of money or land. 

It may be observed that such a co-equal 
public recognition, if extended to the class 
of secondary schools, would at once produce 
a definite and important result, in throwing 
probably half of what may be termed the 
present secondary course of stud}' back with- 
in the course of the elementary grade of 
schools, and also in bringing back a large 
number of what are termed colleges into 
their appropriate grade of secondary institu- 
tions. 

The noticeable and important fact is more- 
over thus brought out, that public opinion 
in the United States has never, up to the 
present time, demanded or recognized any 
universal privilege of education beyond that 
in the merest rudiments of it. 

This neglect has of course caused the ex- 
isting almost entire deficiency of recorded 
statistics of schools of this class. Such sta- 



tistics are not accessible at all, except in the 
single state of New York, and even there, 
only from such secondary institutions as are 
obliged to furnish them as a condition of 
their receipt of a portion of the literature 
fund. This remark is not aj)plicable to iLe 
grade of schools known as public hiijh 
schools, for boys or girls, or both, in several 
of our larger cities ; but these schools, 
few in number and of modern origin, are 
not so much the outgrowth of popular feel- 
ling, as the creations of a few intelligent 
friends of public education, in advance of 
any general demand for this class of institu- 
tions. Although not recognized generally 
as part of our systems of public instruction, 
schools of the former class have increased 
rapidly, and now exist in almost every village 
in the land, and their aggregate number in 
1850, according to the census of that year, 
will be seen in the table on page 451. 

The progress of this class of schools, in 
respect to studies, books, and equipment 
generally, and methods of instruction and 
discipline, can be readily measured by any 
one who will look into the best academy or 
public high school in his neighborhood, and 
then read the following communications — 
the first by the lion. Josiali Quincv, respect- 
ing one of the earliest institutions of the class 
known as academies ; and the other two 
by eminent public men, respecting the pub 
lie schoiils, and particularly the Latin school 
of Boston, as it was prior to or about the 
beginning of the present century, and at 
that time pronounced " the best on the 
American continent." 

" Mr. Barnard : Dear Sir — You ask brief- 
ly the position of Phillips Academy as to 
studies, text-books, methods, and discipline. 
That academy was founded in the year 1 778, 
in the midst of the war of the Revolution, 
by the united contributions of three broth- 
ers — Samuel, John, and William Phillips — 
all of them men of property according to 
the scale of that day, and all of a liberal s])irit 
toward e\'oi'y object, religious, moral, or ed- 
ucational. l>ut the real author and instiga- 
tor of that foundation was the only son of 
the first of the above-named, who was known 
during the early period of his life by the 
name of Samuel ] 'hi Hips, Junior. He wa.s, 
during his whole life, one of the most dis- 
tinguished, exemplary, and popular men in 
Massachusetts; active, spiiited, influential, 
and ready, and a leader in everj' good work,* 



ACADEMIES, HIGH SCHOOLS, ETC. 



380 



and he had the contrul of the hearts of his 
father and two uncles, and was undoubtedly 
the influential spirit giving vitality to the 
plan of that institution. There was only 
,one academy in the state at that time — Dum- 
jner Academy at Newbury — which, although 
it had sent forth many good scholars, was 
thou going to decay ; and the beautiful and 
comniamling site in the south parish of An- 
dover which that institution now occupies, 
was unquestionably one of the causes of the 
idea of the institution as well as of its lo- 
jcality. Eliphalet Pearson had been eduea- 
[ted at Dummer Academy, was distinguished 
jfor his scholarship and zeal in the cause of 
felassical learning; Samuel Phillips, jr., had 
formedanintimacy with him at college, though 
|in difterent classes, and entertained a high 
opinion both of his literary attainments and 
spirit of discipline. Phillips Academy was 
projected with reference to his becoming its 
first master; and his aid was joined with 
that of his friend Phillips in forming the con- 
stitution of the academy. 
j "The time of its foundation was unques- 
Itionably most inauspicious to its success, 
but young Phillips was of a spirit that 
; quailed before no obstacles. It was designed 
I to be a model institution of the kind, and 
no pains were omitted to secure its success; 
and notwithstanding the uncertainties of the 
; political aspect of the time and the perpetu- 
ally increasing depreciation of paper- money, 
: it was sustained in great usefulness and ])ros- 
i perity. I was sent to that academy within 
la month after its opening, in M.ay, 1778, 
I being the seventh admis^inn on its catalogue. 
. I had just then entered upon my seventh 
year, and was thrust at once into my Latin 
at a period of life when noun, pronoun, and 
participle were terms of mysterious mean- 
ing which all the explanati<uis of my gram- 
mars and my masters for a long time vainly 
attempted to make me comprehend. But the 
laws of the school were imperious. They 
had no regard for my age, and I was for 
years submitted to the studios and discipline 
of the seminary, which, though I could re- 
peat the former, through want of compre- 
hension of their meaning, I could not possi- 
bly understand. I was sent to the academy 
two years at least before I ought to have 
been. But William Phillips was my grand- 
father ; it was deemed desirable that the 
founders of the academy should show confi- 
dence in its advantages; I was, therefore, 
sent at once, upon its first opening, and I 



have always regarded the severe discipline 
to which I was subjected, in consequence of 
the inadeqiuicy of my 3-ears to my studies, 
as a humble contribution toward the success 
of the academy. 

"The course of .studies and text-books I do 
not believe I can from memory exactly re- 
capitulate ; I cannot, however, be far out 
of the way in stating that ' Cheever's Ac- 
cidence' was our first book ; the second, 
' Oorderius ;' the third, ' Nepos ;' then, if 
I mistake not, came ' Virgil.' There may 
have been some intermediate author which 
has escaped my memory, but besides Virgil 
I have no recollection of any higher author. 

" Our grammar was ' Ward's,' in which all 
the rules and expLinations are in Latin, and 
we were drilled sedulously in writing this 
language far enough to get into the univer- 
sity. Our studies in Greek were verj' slight 
and superficial. Gloucester's Greek Gram- 
mar was our guide in that language, and a 
thorough ability to construe the four Gos- 
pels was all re<juired of us to enter the col- 
lege. 

" These are the best answers I can give to 
your inquiries on the subject of ' studies 
and text-books,' but I am not confident that 
my memory serves me with exactness. Our 
prepai-ation was limited enough, but suffi- 
cient for the poverty and distracted state of 
the period. 

" Of ' methods and discipline,' fir which 
you inquire, I can only say that the former 
was strict and exact, and the latter severe. 
Pearson was a convert to thorough disci- 
pline ; monitors kept an account of all of a 
student's failures, idleness, inattention, whis- 
pering, and like deviations from order, and 
at the end of the week were best<5wed sub- 
stantial rewards for such self-indulgences, 
distributed upon the head and hand with no 
lack of strength or fidelity. 

" In that day arithmetic was begun at the 
university. The degree of preparation for col- 
lege and the amount of the studies within it 
are not worthy of remembrance when com- 
pared with the means of acquirement now 
presented to the aspiring student. 

" Your other inquiries I should be happy 
to make the subject of reply, but long ces- 
sation of familiarity with the objects to which 
they relate makes me dubious of my power 
to add any thing important to their history. 
My knowledge of the common schools of 
Boston was obtained only during the vaca- 
tions of the academy, and had chief refer- 



390 



KDUCATIO>f AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



ence to improvement in my writing. Their 
adviuitiigcs were few enough and humWo 
enough ; the education of females very slight, 
and limited to reading, writing, and tlie ear- 
lier branches of arithmetic. 

"The interests of schools and of education 
were, thirty years ago, subjects of my tliought 
and writing ; but the lapse of time and the 
interposition of other objects and new du- 
ties deprive rrie of tlie power of aiding your 
researches on these subjects, which are, how- 
ever, easily and far better satisfied by the 
active men of the day. Wishing you all 
success in these wise and noble pursuits, 
" I am, very truly, 

" Your friend and servant, 

"JosiAH Ql'incv." 

"Boston, Deo. 1st, 1860." 

The following "Memorandum of an emi- 
nent clergyman, who was educated in the 
best schools of Boston just before the Ilevo- 
lution," we copy from a volume of the 
" Massachusetts Common School Journal," 
vol. xii., pp. 311, 31ii. The notes are by 
the editor of the Journal, Wm. B. Fowlc : 

" At the age of six and a half years, I 
•was sent to Master John Lovcll's Latin 
school. The only requirement was reading 
well ; but, though fully qualified, I was sent 
away to Master Griffith, a private teacher, 
to learn to read, write and spell. I learned 
the English Grammar in l)ilworth's Spelling 
Book by heart. Griffith traced letters with 
a pencil, and the pupils inked them. 

" Entered Lovell's school at seven years. 
Lovell was a tyrant, and his system one of 
terror. Trouncini;* was common in the 



* " Trouncing was performed by stripping the boy, 
mounting him on anotlier's baclc, and whipping hiiu 
witli birch rods, before tlie wliole school, .lames 
Lovell, the grandson of John, once related to us the 
following anecdote, which shows the utiUl)j of cor- 
poral punishment! It seems that a boy had played 
truant, and Master John had publicly declared that 
tho oft'ender should be trounced. When such a sen- 
tence was pronounced, it was understood that the 
other boys might seize the criminal, and take him 
to school by force. Tlie culprit was soon seized Vjy 
one party, and liurriod to tlie master, who inflicted 
the punishment without delay. On his way home, 
the cul[)rit met another party, who cried out, 'Ah, 
John Brown,' or whatever his name was, 'you'll 
get it when you go to school!' 'No, I shan't,' 
said the victorious boy, who felt that he had got the 
start of them, 'No, I shan't, for Pve got it,' and, as 
he said this, he slapped his h.and upon the part that 
luid paid tlio penalty, thus, as tho poet says, ' suit- 
ing tho action to the word.' " 



school. Dr. Cooper was one of his earlv 
.scholars, and he told Dr. Jackson, the min- 
ister of Brookline, that he had dreams of 
school till he died. The boys were so afraid 
they could not study. Sam. Bradford, after- 
ward sheriff', pronounced the P in Ptolemy, 
and the younger Lovell rapped him over the 
head with a heavy ferule.* 

"We studied Latin from 8 o'clock till 
11, and from 1 till dark. After one or two 
years, I went to the town school, to Master 
Holbrook, .it the corner of West street, to 
learn to write ; and to Master Proctor, on 
Pemberton's Hill, in the south-east part of 
Scoliay's Building. My second, third, and 
fourth year, I wrote there, and did nothing 
else. The English boys alone were tauijlit 
to make pens. Griffith was gentle, but his 
being a private teacher accounts for it. 

"The course of study was, grammar; 
Esop, with a translation ; Clarke's Introduc- 
tion to writing Latin ; Eutropius, with a 
translation ; Corderius ; Ovid's Metamor- 
phoses ; Virgil's Georgics ; iEneid ; Ca-sar; 
Cicero. Li the sixth year I began Greek, 
and for the first time attempted English 
composition, by translating Ca?sar's Com- 
mentaries. The master allowed us to read 
poetical translations, such as Trappe's and 
Dryden's Virgil. I was half way through 
Virgil when I began Greek with Ward's 
Greek Grammar. 

" After Choever's Latm Accidence, we 
took Ward's Lily's Latin Grammer. After 
the Greek Grammar, we read the Greek 
Testament, and were allowed to use Beza's 
Latin translation. Then came Homer's 
Iliad, five or six books, using Clarke's 
translation with notes, and this was all my 
Greek education at school. Then we took 
Horace, and composed Latin verses, using 
the Gradus ad I'arnassum. Daniel Jones 
was the first Latin scholar in 1771 or 1772, 



* "We saw this done by another Boston teacher, 
about thirty years ago, and when we remonstrated 
Avith him upon the danger of inflicting such a blow, 
upon such a spot, '0, the caitifls, ' said he, 'it is 
good for them I' About the same time, another 
teacher, who used to strike his pujiils upon the 
hand so that tlie marks and bruises were visiHe, 
was waited upon b_v a committee of mothers, who 
lived near tho school, and had been annoyed by the 
outcries of tho suflerers. The teacher promised not 
to strike the boys any more on tlie lumil, and the 
women went away satisfied. But, instead of in- 
flicting blows upon the hand, lie inflicted them upon 
the soles of the feet, and made the punishment more 
severe." 



ACADEMIES, HIGH SCHOOLS, ETC. 



391 



iiiid he was brother to Thomas Kilby Jones, 
fvho was no scholar, though a distinguished 
jnerchant afterward. 

I '• I entered college at the age of fourteen 
years and three months, and was equal in 
(jatia and Greek to the best in the senior 
class. Xenophon and Salliist were the only 
books used in college that I had not stud- 
ied. I went to tlie private school from 1 1 
ito 12 A. M., and to the public from 3 to 5 

JP. M. 

I " The last two years of my school life, 
Jiobody taught English Grammar or Geog- 
raphy, but Col. Joseph Ward (son of Dea- 
con J oseph Ward, of Newton, West Parish, 
jblacksmith,) who was self-taught, and set 
|Up a school in Boston. lie became aid to 
General W^ard when tlie war commenced, 
land did not teach after the war. 
I " I never saw a map, except in Cassar's 
jCommentaries, and did not know what that 
]meant. Our class studied Lowth's English 
Grammar at college. At Master Proctor's 
jschool, reading and writing were taught in 
jthe same room, to girls and boys, from 7 to 
1 14 years of age, and the Bible was the only 
jreading book. Dilworth's Spelling Book 
jwas used, and the New England J'rimcr. 
jThe master set sums in our MSS. but did not 
Igo farther than the Rule of Three. 

'"Master Griffith was a tliin man, and 
Iwore a wig, as did blasters Lovell and 
(Proctor, but they wore a cap when not in 
full dress. James Lovell was so beaten by 
his grandfather John, that James the father 
rose and said, * Sir, you have flogged that 
boy enough.' The boy went off determined 
I to leave school, and go to Master Proctor's ; 
but he met one of Master Proctor's boys, 
who a.sked whither he was going, and when 
informed, warned him not to go, for he 
would fare worse." 

Hon. Edward Everett, in an address at the 
Annual School Festival in Fanouil Hall in 
1852, gives the following account of the 
educational advantages he enjoyed in early 
life :— 

" It was fifty-two 3'ears last April since I 
began, at the age of nine years, to attend 
the readinsj and writino; schools in North 
Bennett street. The reading school was 
under Master Little, (for ' Young America' 
had not yet repudiated that title,) and the 
writing school was kept by Master Tileston. 
Master Little, in spite of his name, was a 
giant in stature — six feet four, at least — and 



somewhat wedded to the past. He strugsjled 
earnestly against the change then taking 
place in the pronunciation of u, and insisted 
on saying monoomcnt and natur. But I ac- 
quired, under his tuition, what was thought 
in those days a very tolerable knowledge of 
Lindley Murray's abridgment of English 
grammar, and at the end of the 3'car could 
parse almost any sentence in the ' American 
Preceptor.' Master Tileston was a writing 
master of the old school. He set the copies 
himself, and taught that beautiful old Boston 
handwriting, which, if I do not mistake, has, 
in the march of innovation, (which is not 
always the same thing as improvement,) 
been changed very little for the better. 
Master Tileston was ailvanced in years, and 
had found a quallfic.ition for his calling as a 
writing master, in what might have seemed 
at first to threaten to be an obstruction. 
The fingers of his right hand had been con- 
tracted and stiffened in early life, by a burn, 
but were fixed in just the position to hold a 
pen and a penknife — and nothing else. As 
they were also considerably indurated, they 
served as a convenient instrument of disci- 
pline. A copy badly written, or a blotted 
page, was sometimes visited with an inflic- 
tion which would have done no discredit to 
the beak of a bald eagle. His long, deep 
desk was a perfect curiosity-shop of confis- 
cated balls, tops, penknives, marbles and 
Jews-harps — the accumulation of forty years. 
I desire, however, to speak of him with 
gratitude, for he put mc on the track of an 
acquisition which has been extremely useful 
to me in after life— that of a plain, legible 
hand. I remained at these schools about 
sixteen months, and liad the good fortune in 
1804 to receive the Franklin medal in the 
English department. After an interval of 
about a year, during which I attended a 
private school kept by Mr. Ezekicl Webster, 
of New Hampshire, and on ap occasion of 
his absence, by his ever memorable brother, 
Daniel Webster, at tliat time a student of 
law in Boston, 1 went to the Latin school, 
then slowly emerging from a state of extreme 
depression. It was kept in School street, 
where the Horticultural Hall now stands. 
The standard of scholastic attainment was 
certainly not higher than that of material 
comfort in those days. AVe read pretty 
much the same books — or of the same class 
— in Latin and Greek, as are read now, but 
in a very cursory and superficial manner. 
There was no attention paid to the philoso- 



392 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



pliy of the languages — to the deduction of 
words from their radical elements — to the 
niceties of construction — still less to prosody. 
I never made a hexameter or pentameter 
verse, till, years afterward, I had a son at 
school in London, who occasionally required 
a little aid in that way. The subsidiary and 
illustrative branches were wholly unknown 
in the Latin school in 1805. Such a thing 
as a school library, a book of reference, a 
critical edition of a classic, a map, a black- 
board, an engraving of an ancient building, 
or a copy of a work of ancient art, such as 
now adorn the walls of our schools, was as 
little known as the electric telegraph. If 
our children, who possess all these appliances 
and aids to learning, do not greatly excel 
their parents, they will be much to blame." 



CHAPTER V. 
COLLEGES. 

The colleges of the United States were, at 
the close of the lievohitionary war, seven in 
number. They had been founded with the 
design of providing for the new common- 
wealths the means of a training for the 
young men, substantially similar to that af- 
forded by the univeisities at home. Their 
course of studv was four A'ears in length, and 
was at first decidedly theological in charac- 
ter, and stibsequently more and more secu- 
larized. The average age of those entering 
was somewhat less than now ; and they con- 
ferred, as at present, degrees in arts in course, 
and honorary ones in arts, law, and divinity. 

With the growth of the United States tliey 
have rapidly increased in number, being sup- 
ported, beyond the receipts for tuition, either 
by endowments laised for each among the de- 
nomination to which it belongs, or by the 
proceeds of state gifts of hin<ls or money. The 
number of tins ela>s of institutions incorpo- 
rated with power to confer academic honors, 
exceeds two hundred. The length of their 
course of stud}- remains the same, and in- 
deed this is the case in all their essential 
characteristics. Although there lias been a 
gradual elevation of the !,tandard of acquire- 
ments made requiMte for entrance, this pic- 
liminary examination has not been suffi- 
ciently exacting and uniform. As their funds 
and the number of their students have en- 
larged, they have shown a tendency, not to 
increase the length and completeness of their 



course of study, but rather to multiply the 
number of studies attempted to be taught, 
by adding them to the undergraduate course; 
and in a few instances also to annex special 
schools in one or another department, such 
as law, medicine, theology, and the appli- 
cation of science to industrial occupations. 

Mr. Everett gives the following picture ef 
college life at Uarvard as it was fifty years 
ago:— 

" But short as the time is since I entered 
college (only half as long as that which ha.s 
elapsed since the close of the seven years' 
war), it has made me the witness of wonder- 
ful changes, both materially and intellec- 
tually, in all that concerns our Alma Maler. 
Let me sketch you the outlines of the pic- 
ture, fresh to my mind's eye as the image in 
the camera, which the precincts of the col- 
lege exhibited in 1807. The Common was ' 
then uninclosed. It was not so much trav- 
ersed by roads in all directions ; it was at 
once all road and no road at all, — a wa«te 
of mud and of dust, according to the season, 
without grass, trees, or fences. As to the 
streets in those days, the 'Appian ^Vay' 
existed then as now; and I must allow that 
it bore the same resemblance then as now to 
the Regina Viartim, by which the consuls 
and proconsuls of Rome went forth to the 
concpiest of Epirus, Macedonia, and the East, 
" As to public buildings in the neighbor- 
hood of the university, with the exception 
of the Episcopal church, no one of the 
churches now standing was then in exist- 
ence. The (Ad parish church has disap- 
peared, with its scpuu-e pews, and galleries 
from wdiich you might almost jump into the 
pnl])it. It occupied a portion of the space 
between I)ane Hall imd the old Tresidential 
House. I planted a row of elm and oak 
trees a few years ago on the spot where it 
stood, for which, if for nothing else, I hope 
to be kindly remembered by posterity. The 
wooden building now used as a gymnasiuni, 
and, I believe, for some other purposes, then 
stood where Lyceum Hall now stands. It 
was the county court-house; and there I 
often heard the voice of the venerable Cliict 
Justice Parsons. Graduates' Hall did not 
exist; but on a part of the site, and behiial 
the beautiful linden trees still flourishing, 
was an old black wooden house, the residence 
of the professor of mathematics. A little fur- 
ther to the north, and just at the corner of 
Church street, which was not then opened, 
stood what was dimiified in the annual col- 




—\ 



FOL'N'DIXG OF DARTMOUTH COLLEGE, IN 1TG9. E'lliJlVVed in 1839. 



PEOFESSIOSAL SCHOOLS, ZTC. 



39.3 



lege catalogue (which was printed on one 
side of a sheet of paper, and was a novelty) 
a« ' The College House.' The cellar is 
still visible. By the students this edifice 
was disrespectfully called • Wiswall's Den,' 
or, for brevity, ' the Den.' I lived in it in 
mv freshman vear. Whence the name of 
• "Wiswall's Den' was derived, I hardly dare 
sav ; there was something worse than ' old 
f.>gv' about it. There was a dismal tradi- 
tion that, at some former period, it had been 
the scene of a murder. A bnital husband 
had dragged his wife bv the hair np and 
down the stairs, and then killed her. On 
theanniversaryof the murder — and what day 
that was no one knew — there were sightsand 
sounds — flitting garments draggled in blood, 
plaintive screams, stridor ft rri traetceque 
catencB — enough to appall the stoutest sopho- 
more. But, for myself^ I can truly say, that 
I got through my freshman year without 
having seen the ghost of Mr. Wiswall or his 
lamented lady. I was not, however, sorry 
when the twelvemonth was up, and I was 
tran>ferred to the light, airy, well-ventilated 
room, N'o. 20 HoUis; being the inner room, 
ground-floor, north entry of that ancient and 
respectable edifice." 

The tables on pages 451-3 exhibit the num- 
ber, date of foundation, and statistics of our 
American colleges in several important par- 
ticulars. 



cleiwyman, lawyer, or physician, acting as 
his assistant and receivin-i his instructions. 
Then, when they considered themselves St, 
or an invitation came, they took their place 
in the ranks of their profession. Gradually 
the necessity of special opportunities of in- 
struction in the principles, and their diverse 
and complicated applications, led to the es- 
tablishment of schools of theology, medicine, 
and law ; and still later, of special courses 
of instruction, and finally, of special schools 
for the practical chemist, geologist, ci\-il and 
military engineer, agriculturist and teacher. 
This department of education is not yet 
aided systematically in any state, and is hard- 
Iv recognized by a majority of the states in 
their systems of public instruction. Most 
of this class of institutions have been estab- 
lished by denominational or professional as- 
sociations, or by the liberality of indi\'iduals 
in advance of or as the inducement to legis- 
lative aid. 



CHAPTEPw YI. 

PROFESSIONAL, SCIEXTIFIC. ASD SPECIAL 
SCHOOLS. 

As the body of human knowledge in- 
creased in extent, and filled out in detail, it 
subdivided by a natural process into a great- 
er and greater number of sciences, as did 
the industrial side of life into a greater and 
greater number of employments. A sub- 
division and increase in the number of 
schools, preparatory to the business of life, 
naturally accompanied this process. 

The colleges of the United States, accord- 
ing to this law of development, were in their 
early day designed primarily to train future 
clergymen, and secondarily to train those in- 
tending to enter the public service. For a 
long time college graduates had no means of 
enjoying further instructicvn in either of the 
then recognized learned professions, but by 
residing near or in the family of some eminent 



CHAPTER Yll. 
THEOLOGICAL SCHOOLS. 

The future clergyman, in the American 
colonies, had already studied theology in his 
college course. It was probably common for 
graduates to serve what may be well enough 
termed an apprenticeship imder some emi- 
nent clergyman, after leaving college. During 
the first half of the eighteenth century, the 
custom grew up of subjecting the candidate 
for the ministry to examination by a number 
of ministers, and licensing him to preach as 
candidate. Dr. Bellamy first introduced at 
his house at Bethlem, Connecticut, the plan 
of giving something like a regular course of 
instruction to students in theology. A little 
later the practice became quite general, 
and was confirmed bv the gradual elimina- 
tion of its theological character from the 
course of study in the colleges. 

The first separate theological school in the 
TTnited States was that at Andover, founded 
and opened in 1807. The thorough three 
years' course of study here established soon 
did away with the comparatively inefiicient 
and superficial apprenticeship scheme, which 
afforded a professional training of twelve, sis, 
or even only three months. 

Of previous departmental or imperfect 
provisions for specific ministerial training, 
should be mentioned the academy known as 
" Log College," of Rev. William Tennent, at 



394 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



Neshaminy, Bucks country, Pa., opened about 
1728 ; the preparatory school opened by Rev. 
John Smith in the west of Pennsylvania in 
lV78, afterward under Rev. J. Anderson, 
D. D. ; William and Mary Collesj;e, which 
included a professorship of divinity in ]693 ; 
the foundation of the llollis professorship of 
divinity at Harvard College in 1721; and 
that of the Livingston professorship of di- 
vinity at Yale College in 1746. 

The table, altered into clironological succes- 
sion from the American Almanac, 18G1, gives 
the growth of this class of special schools. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

LAW SCHOOLS. 

The professional education of colonial law- 
yers was equally unscientific, with the excep- 
tion of the few who obtained a legal educa- 
tion at the Middle or Inner Temple in Lon- 
don, those inns of court being the favorite 
resorts of American students. Law, indeed, 
was then scarcely considered a liberal science 
in this country, and the profession was in 
more than one instance discouraged or actu- 
ally forbidden by colonial constitutions or 
laws. Thus, in 1660, Virginia, by lier house 
of burgesses, voted for " the total ejection 
of mercenary attorneys ;" Massachusetts, in 
1663, prohibited "usual and common attor- 
neys in any inferior court," from being mem- 
bers of the legislature ; and Locke's consti- 
tution for Carolina permitted "no one to 
plead another man's cause." The only pro- 
fessional training between the college course 
and actual practice was in the office of some 
practitioner already established, where the 
aspirant served for an indefinite period as 
an attorney's clerk, usually learning to draw 
instruments, and obtaining a desultory knowl- 
edge of forms, technics and special pleading, 
but very seldom pursuing any regulated 
course of study or systematically mastenng 
his subject. 

The first separate institution for legal in- 
struction was the celebrated law school at 
Litchfield, Connecticut, established by Judge 
Reeve in 1784, taught by him alone until 
1798, then together with Judge Gould until 
a little before Judge Reeve's death in 1823, 
and afterward by Judge Gould alone until 
1827. Seven hundred and fifty students in 
all studied law in this school ; who, scattered 
over the whole country, carried with them 



and instilled into the profession at large the 
idea of a special and sj'stematic training for 
the practice of law. 

We append a table, altered from the 
American Almanac for 1861, of the existing 
law schools or collegiate departments in tlie 
United States, in the order of their founda- 
tion. It should, however, be observed that 
some legal .studies were included in the orig- 
inal scheme of William and Mary College, 
founded 1693, and the law course became 
of some positive value by improvements 
about 173U. Also, that a law professorship 
was founded in the College of Philadelphia 
in 1790; a professor of law appointed at 
Yale College m 1801; and the Royall Pro- 
fessorship of Law at Harvard, founded iu 
1815, 



CHAPTER IX. 

MEDICAL SCHOOLS. 

Medical schools are of quite recent date ; 

and the training of the young physician was 
of a very irregular character during the 
colonial period. Degrees of Doctor of Medi- 
cine were possessed by a very few practising 
physicians, who had studied at Edinburgh, 
Leyden, or other European schools. The 
few eminent physicians who were trained 
exclusively in the colonies, were to a great 
extent followers of a natural gift and ten- 
dency, which went far to supply their lack 
of school learning. Young men proposing 
to become phj'sicians, practised in the offi- 
ces and under the instruction of established 
physicians. Down to the middle of the 18th 
century, it was the frequent practice, in Con- 
necticut, at least, to obtain a formal license 
from the general court, which was conunonly 
granted on petition of the aspirant, reinforced 
by testimonials from the freemen of his town, 
the town officers, or practising physicians. 
Sometimes the only credentials of the begin- 
ner, were the certificate of the physician with 
whom he had studied. After college courses 
of medical lectures were established, a license 
from the faculty was given, which served in- 
stead of the subsequent diploma. 

The earliest collegiate medical department 
in the United States was that of the Univer- 
sity of Pennsylvania in 1765. Dr. Shippen 
had lectured on anatomy in 1762. 

We add a chronological table, altered from 
the American Almanac for 1 861, of the medi- 
cal schools of the United States. 



MILITARY AND NAVAL SCHOOLS. 



395 



CHAPTER X. 

MILITARY AND NAVAL SCHOOLS. 

The experience of the Revolutionary war 
occasioned a very general conviction among 
the officers of the American army, of the 
necessity for such a provision for the military 
education of native officers as would relieve 
the United States from a dependence upon 
prof(!ssionally trained soldiers of foreign 
birth. The idea of a military school of 
some kind, to be connected with each United 
States arsenal, was entertained at the close 
of the war among the officers. 
j In the spring of 1783, General Washing- 
ion requested from a number of leading offi- 
'cers, statements of their views on all subjects 
connected with the peace establishment of 
tlie United States army. In reply to this 
request, Colonel Timothy Pickering, then 
.quartermaster-general, drew up an able and 
interesting memoir, which contains, it is be- 
li.!veil, the first suggestion of a single central 
[g )vernment military academy, and he also 
suggested West I'oint as a proper location 
for it. 

President Washington's annual address to 
ICongress of Decembers, ITOS, asks "wheth- 
er a material feature in the improvement of a 
system of national defence ought not to be 
to afford an opportunity for the study of 
those branches of the military art, which can 
scarcely ever be attained by practice alone." 

An act of Congress of May 9, 179-t, au- 
thorized a corps of four battalions of artil- 
lerists and engineers, to each of which were 
to be attached eight cadets. This was the 
first introduction into the military service of 
the United States of this term, which may 
be defined to signify a grade of officers be- 
tween the highest non-commissioned officer, 
a sergeant, and the lowest commissioned one, 
an ensign. For the use of this corps and 
calets, the secretary of war, Colonel I'icker- 
I ing, was authorized to procure the necessary 
books and apparatus. The secretary, in 
,1796, reports that this organization is im- 
portant, and should be as stationary as prac- 
ticable, with a view to instruction. 
I President Washington's last annual speech 
I to Congress, December, 179G, again urged 
strongly the establishment of a military 
academy. In April, 179S, the corps of artil- 
lerists and engineers was increased by an 
alditional regiment, and the number of 
cadets enlarged to fifty-six. In July follow- 
ing, four teachers were by Congress author- 



ized to be employed in that regiment for in- 
struction in science and art. Some officers 
and men were collected at West Point, and 
a sort of military school opened, which, how- 
ever, acted with little efficiency, owing to 
the want of preparatory training, and of or- 
ganization. 

Secretary of War McIIenry, in a report on 
the organization of the army, made during 
the expectation of a war with France, dated 
December 24, 1798, lamented the want of 
engineers and artillerists trained at home. 
In January, 1800, the same officer laid be- 
fore the President, who transmitted it to 
Congress, a plan for establishing a military 
academy. After referring to the imperfect 
steps already taken in this direction, he pro- 
ceeds to suggest that the proposed academy 
shall consist of a " fundamental school," to 
instruct in such departments of science as 
are necessary in common in all the arms of 
the military force ; and three special schools, 
one of engineers and artillerists, one of 
cavalry and infantry, and one of the navy. 
The institution was to be in charge of a direc- 
tor-general, four directors, twelve professors, 
and nine other instructors. This school, so 
far as Secretary McHenry recommended its 
immediate establishment, was to accommo- 
date annual classes of one hundred pupils 
each, for courses of four and five years. 

The Military Academy at West Point, ac- 
cording to Colonel Williams' report in 1808, 
was first opened in 1801, as a " mathemati- 
cal school for the few cadets that were then 
in service," and under a private citizen. In 
1 802, an act of Congress separated the artil- 
lerists and engineers, distributing the cadets 
of the former class among the twenty com- 
panies of that arm, and constituted the en- 
gineers the Military Academy, making it 
consist of seven officers and ten cadets. 

The operations of the school continued to 
be deficient in order and efficiency for some 
years, still for want of proper and energetic 
administration, and a well adjusted course 
of stud}'. In 1812, it was much enlarged, 
and its organization quite changed. The 
period from 1817 to 1824, however, during 
which a thorough course of theoretical and 
practical studies, properly adapted to the 
military profession, was for the first time in- 
troduced, marks the establishment of the 
academy as a military and scientific school 
of high grade and value. 

The academy, in 1860, was organized under 
a superintendent, who is commandant of the 



398 



KDUCATIOJ* AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



sociation of persons engaged and interested 
in the business of instruction ;" and, in pur- 
suance of its votes, an adjourned mectinj; 
was held at Boston in August followintf, at 
which its constitution and name were adopt- 
ed, and its first course of lectures delivered. 
It was incorporated in 1831 by the legislature 
of Massachusetts, and has received an annual 
grant from that state. Its series of annual 
meetings is still continued, and its accom- 
panying series of annual volumes of lectures 
has now reached the .31st, and includes a 
valuable mass of useful theoretical and 
practical discussions. 

During the period of educational interest 
which produced the American Institute of 
Instruction, many conventions and meetings 
of teachers and friends of education assem- 
bled in difterent p.arts of the country, to con- 
sult and debate upon means of improvement 
for schools and teachers. Among the more 
earnest and efficient of these may be named 
the Windham County (Conn.) Convention, 
which met in 1S26; the Hartford Society 
for the Improvement of Common Schools, 
formed in \S21, and among whose members 
were .Messrs. Hooker, Gallaudet,W. C. Wood- 
bridge, and others ; the Pennsylvania Society 
for the Promotion of Public Schools, formed 
in 1828 ; and the Convention of the Teach- 
ers of New York, which met at Utica in 
1832. These bodies frequently possessed 
scarcely more than an annual existence, meet- 
mg from year to year in pursuance of a new 
call. Their efforts, however, and the evident 
capacities of such organizations for useful- 
ness, led directly to the subsequent forma- 
tion of that class of educational societies 
known as " State Teachers' Associations." 
Of these, the Massachusetts State Teachers' 
Association, and the Rhode Island Institute 
of Instruction, were organized in 1845 ; the 
Ohio State Teachers' Association in 1847 ; 
and others have followed, until at present 
there are no less than twenty-seven State 
Teachers' Associations, some of them acting 
with remarkable efficiency for the profession- 
al improvement of teachers. In connection 
with these state bodies, county associations 
exist in several states, some of them cnjoyino- 
state aid, and many of them useful co-laborers 
in the educational field with the state asso- 
ciations with which they are affiliated. 

The first proposition in this country for a 
periodical to be devoted to education was 
made by Rev. Samuel Bacon, a native of 
Sturbridge, Massachusetts, who, in 1812, is-_ 



sued the prospectus of a periodical, to be 
known as The Academical Herald and Jour- 
nal of JSducation. Mr. Bacon subsequent- 
ly resumed this idea, but gave it up again 
upon the appearance of the fir.st actual 
American educational periodical, The Aca- 
demician. This was a large octavo, issued 
semi-monthly, at'^few York, durin<r the years 
1818-19, and edited by Albert Picket and 
John W. Picket, afterward the well-known 
early influential members of the "Western 
College of Teachers." 

This field of labor now remained unoccu- 
pied until the appearance of the Anurican 
Jonriinl of Educalion, commenced January 
1st, 1825, at Boston, Mr. T. B. Wait publish- 
er, and edited by Professor William Russell. 
With its continuation, the American Annals 
of Education, this w ell-known and valuable 
journal appeared until the end of 18.19, 
completing an entire series of fourteen oc- 
tavo volumes. 

In January, 1836, appeared the first num- 
ber of the Common School Assistant, a 
quarto monthly, edited by J. Orville Taylor, 
and which was published at Albany, and 
afterward at New York, during four years 
and four volumes, and part of a fifth, ending 
in 1840. This periodical was energetically 
and usefully edited, was taken and read 
throughout the country, and did a good 
work in its day and generation for the cause 
of common schools. 

Mr. Taylor also did much for the cause of 
education by publishing a Common School 
Almanac, and by delivering forcible and apt 
addresses on educational subjects in many 
states of the Union. 
^ In August, 1838, appeared at Hartford, 
Connecticut, the first number of the quarto 
Connecticut Common School Journal, edit- 
ed by Henry Barnard, Secretary of the 
Board of Commissioners of Common Schools. 
This periodical was published during four 
years, ending in consequence of the sn-ani,'e 
reactionary rally which abolished the board 
in 1842. It contained the state public edu- 
cational documents of its day, beside a great 
quantity of valuable selectitms and original 
articles. A second series in octavo form was 
commenced by Mr. Barnard in 1850, cover- 
ing substantially the same ground, and con- 
tinued by him until January, 1854, when he 
surrendered its care to the Connecticut State 
Teachers' Association, which still publishes 
it. The interval between 1843 and 1860 
was covered by the publication of the Jour- 



NORMAL SCHOOLS, ETC. 



399 



tmI of the Rhode Island Institute of Instruc- 
tion, embodying tlie official documents and 
action of Mr. Barnard in that state as com- 
missioner of public achools. 

In August, 1855, Mr. Barnard issued the 
first number of his American Journal of 
Jidncation, published at Hartford, quarterly, 
in octavo. The plan contemplated a series 
of at least ten volumes, of about 800 pages, 
to constitute an encyclopaedia of educational 
materials of permanent value, illustrative of 
the history, biography, theory, and practice 
of all departments of education, both in this 
country and in other parts of the world, as 
well as a record of cotemporary educational 
facts and progress. In the progress of this 
plan hitherto, the ten volumes already com- 
pleted have included over 300 cuts on school 
architecture, more than forty singularly fine 
portraits of eminent American teachers and 
educators, a still larger number of memoirs, 
and over 1600 pages on the comparatively 
new and most important department of 
methodology. 

The earliest suggestion of institutional 
provision for the specific professional train- 
ing of teachers seems to have been that of 
Elisha Ticknor, in an article in the Massachu- 
setts Magazine for June, 1789, for county 
schools under able masters, to teach English 
grammar, Latin, Greek, rhetoric, geography, 
mathematics, etc., " in order to fit young 
gentlemen for college and school keeping." 

The first proposition for a separate and 
exclusive teachers' seminary was, however, 
set forth by the late Professor Denison Olm- 
sted, in an oration at receiving bis master's 
degree, at commencement, 1816, on the 
" State of Education in Connecticut." This 
was to be a state institution, to train teachers 
for the state public schools. Professor Olm- 
sted's prosecution of his plan was prevented 
by his accepting a professorship in North 
Carolina. 

Seven years afterward, in March, 1823, 
Rev. Samuel Read Hall opened at Concord, 
Vermont, the first teachers' seminary in the 
United States ; an unpretending little school, 
planned in consequence of his own observa- 
tions upon the wants of teachers, intended 
for the improvement of teachers in and near 
his own town, and including a model class 
of juvenile pupils. 

During the years 1824-5, Messrs. Thomas 
H.Gallaudet of Hartford, Connecticut; James 
G. Carter of Lancaster, Massachusetts; and 
Walter R. Johnson of Germantown, Penn- 



sylvania, issued various pamphlets and news- 
paper articles, ably urging the necessity, 
practicability, and advantages of institutions 
for the professional training of teachers. 

In February, 1826, a committee was ap- 
pointed by the legislature of Massachusetts 
to report a plan for an institution to instruct 
in practical arts and sciences. This com- 
mittee included in the plan recommended by 
them a department for the professional train- 
ing of teachers. This scheme was not, how- 
ever, carried into operation. 

In the next year, 182 7, Governor Clinton 
recommended to the legislature of the state 
of New York the establishment of a normal 
school, and an act was passed for that pur- 
pose. It was, however, strongly opposed by 
Hon. John C. Spencer, who succeeded in 
preventing it from going into operation, and 
in causing the adoption instead of tlie plan 
of teachers' departments in academies. 

The earliest instance of a teachers' insti- 
tute in this country, though not then so 
named, was the experimental one gathered 
at Hartford, Connecticut, in October, 1839, 
by the means and at the expense of the then 
superintendent of common schools in Con- 
necticut, in order to prove the practicability 
and usefulness of the plan. The result was 
entirely satisfactory. A similar class, or 
" temporary normal school," was successful- 
ly conducted during eight weeks by Mr. 
Stephen R. Sweet, at Kingsboro, Fulton 
county. New York, commencing on the 6th 
of September, 1842. J. S. Denman, Esq., 
school superintendent of Tompkins county, 
New York, urged a similar class upon the 
attention of the Tompkins County Teachers' 
Association in October, 1842, and a teach- 
ers' institute, supposed bv him to be the 
first in the state and in the world — and prob- 
ably the first expressly so called — was open- 
ed under his direction in that county in 
April, 1843, and profitably conducted during 
two weeks. 

Institutes were held in many places in 
New York during the following five years, 
under the auspices of school officers and 
teachers ; and at the end of that time, in 
November, 1847, an act of the legislature 
made them part of the legal school sys- 
tem, and provided a trifling annual appro- 
priation to aid in holding them in each 
county. 

Under the influence of earnest efforts by 
teachers and educators during 1846, the 
legislature of Connecticut, in May, 1847, 



398 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



sociation of persons engaged and interested 
in the business of instruction ;" and, in pur- 
suance of its votes, an adjourned meeting 
was held at Boston in August following, at 
which its constitution and name were adopt- 
ed, and its first course of lectures delivered. 
It was incorporated in 1831 by the legislature 
of Massachusetts, and has received an annual 
grant from that state. Its series of annual 
meetings is still continued, and its accom- 
panying series of annual volumes of lectures 
has now reached the 31st, and includes a 
valuable mass of useful theoretical and 
practical discussions. 

I'uring the period of educational interest 
which produced the American Institute of 
Instruction, many conventions and meetings 
of teachers and friends of education assem- 
bled in difi'ercnt parts of the country, to con- 
sult and debate upon means of improvement 
for schools and teachers. Among the more 
earnest and efficient of these may be named 
the Windham County (Conn.) Convention, 
which met in 1826; the Hartford Society' 
for the Improvement of Common Schools, 
formed in 1827, and among whose members 
were Messrs. Hooker, Gallaudet,W. C. Wood- 
bridge, and others ; the Pennsylvania Society 
for the Promotion of Public Schools, formed 
in 1828 ; and the Convention of the Teach- 
ers of New York, which met at Utica in 
1832. These bodies frequently possessed 
scarcely more than an annual existence, meet- 
ing from year to year in pursuance of a new 
call. Their efforts, however, and the evident 
capacities of such organizations for useful- 
ness, led directly to the subsequent forma- 
tion of that class of educational societies 
known as " State Teachers' Associations." 
Of these, the Massachusetts State Teachers' 
Association, and the Rhode Island Institute 
of Instruction, were organized in 1845; the 
Ohio State Teachers' Association in 1847 ; 
and others have followed, until at present 
there are no less than twenty-seven State 
Teachers' Associations, some of them acting 
with remarkable efficiency for the profession- 
al improvement of teachers. In connection 
with these state bodies, county associations 
exist in several states, some of them enjoying 
state aid, and many of them useful co-laborers 
in the educational field with the state asso- 
ciations with which they are affiliated. 

The first proposition in this country for a 
periodical to be devoted to education was 
made by Rev. Samuel Bacon, a native of 
Sturbridge, Massachusetts, who, in 1812, is- 



sued the prospectus of a periodical, to be 
known as The Academical Herald and Jour- 
nal of Education. Mr. Bacon subsequent- 
ly resumed this idea, but gave it up again 
upon the appearance of the first actual 
American educational periodical, The Aca- 
demician. This was a large octavo, issued 
semi-monthly, at Tfew York, during the years 
1818-19, and edited by Albert Picket and 
John W. Picket, afterward the well-known 
early influential members of the " Western 
College of Teachers." 

This field of labor now remained unoccu- 
pied until the appearance of the American 
Journal of Education, commenced January 
1st, 1825, at Boston, Mr. T. B. Wait publish- 
er, and edited by Professor William Russell. 
With its continuation, the American Annals 
of Education, this well-known and valuable 
journal appeared until the end of 1839, 
completing an entire series of fourteen oc- 
tavo volumes. 

In January, 1836, appeared the first num- 
ber of the Common School Assistant, a 
quarto monthly, edited by J. Orville Taylor, 
and which was published at Albany, and 
afterward at New York, during four years 
and four volumes, and part of a fifth, ending 
in 1840. This periodical was energetically 
and usefully edited, was taken and read 
throughout the country, and did a good 
work in its day and generation for the cause 
of common schools. 

Mr. Taylor also did much for the cause of 
education by publishing a Common School 
Almanac, and by delivering forcible and apt 
addresses on educational subjects in many 
states of the Union. 

In August, 1838, appeared at Hartford, 
Connecticut, the first number of the quarto 
Connecticut Common School Journal, edit- 
ed by Henry Barnard, Secretary of the 
Board of Commissioners of Common Schools. 
This periodical was published during four 
years, ending in consequence of the strange 
reactionary rally which abolished the board 
in 1842. It contained the state public edu- 
cational documents of its day, beside a great 
quantity of valuable selections and original 
articles. A second series in octavo form was 
commenced by Mr. Barnard in 1850, cover- 
ing substantially the same ground, and con- 
tinued by him until January, 1854, when he 
surrendered its care to the Connecticut State 
Teachers' Association, which still publishes 
it. The interval between 1843 and 1850 
was covered by the publication of the Jour- 



NORMAL SCHOOLS, ETC. 



399 



{aZ of the Rhode Island Institute of Instruc- 
lon, embodying tlie official documents and 
etion of Mr. Barnard in that state as com- 
lissioner of public achools. 

In August, 1855, Mr. Barnard issued the 
rst number of his American Journal of 
Education, published at Hartford, quarterly, 
1 octavo. The plan contemplated a series 
f at least ten volumes, of about 800 pages, 
o constitute an cncyclopa;dia of educational 
aaterials of permanent value, illustrative of 
(he history, biography, theory, and practice 
'f all departments of education, both in this 
ountry and in other parts of the world, as 
ell as a record of cotemporary educational 
acts and progress. In the progress of this 
)lan hitherto, the ten volumes already com- 
)leted have included over 3 00 cuts on school 
irchitecture, more than forty singularly fine 
jortraits of eminent American teachers and 
;ducators, a still larger number of memoirs, 
md over ICOO pages on the comparatively 
lew and most important department of 
knethodology. 

The earliest suggestion of institutional 
provision for the specific professional train- 
ing of teachers seems to have been that of 
!Elisha Ticknor, in an article in the Massachu- 
'setts Magazine for June, 1789, for county 
'schools under able masters, to teach English 
'grammar, Latin, Greek, rhetoric, geograph}', 
•mathematics, etc., " in order to fit young 
gentlemen for college and school keeping." 

The first proposition for a separate and 
exclusive teachers' seminary was, however, 
set forth by the late Professor Denison Olm- 
sted, in an oration at receiving his master's 
degree, at commencement, 1816, on the 
I" State of Education in Connecticut." This 
Iwas to be a state institution, to train teachers 
'for the state public schools. Professor Olm- 
sted's prosecution of his plan was prevented 
by his accepting a prol'essorship in North 
I Carolina. 

' Seven years afterward, in March, ISS.*?, 
Rev. Samuel Read Hall opened at Concord, 
Vermont, the first teachers' seminary in the 
United States ; an unpretending little school, 
planned in consequence of his own observa 
tions upon the wants of teachers, intended 
for the improvement of teachers in and near 
his own town, and including a model class 
of juvenile pupils. 

During the years 1824-5, Messrs. Thomas 

H.Gallaudet of Hartford, Connecticut; James 

G. Carter of Lancaster, Massachusetts ; and 

I Walter R. Johnson of Germantown, Penn- 



sylvania, issued various pamphlets and news- 
paper articles, ably urging the necessity, 
practicabilitv, and advantages of institutions 
for the professional training of teachers. 

In February, 1826, a committee was ap- 
pointed by the legislature of Massachusetts 
to report a plan for an institution to instruct 
in practical arts and sciences. This com- 
mittee included in the plan recommended by 
them a department for the professional train- 
ing of teachers. This scheme was not, how- 
ever, carried into operation. 

In the next year, 182 7, Governor Clinton 
recommended to the legislature of the state 
of New York the establishment of a normal 
school, and an act was passed for that pur- 
pose. It was, however, strongly opposed by 
Hon. John C. Spencer, who succeeded in 
preventing it from going into operation, and 
in causing the adoption instead of the plan 
of teachers' departments in academies. 

The earliest instance of a teachers' insti- 
tute in this country, though not then so 
named, was the experimental one gathered 
at Hartford, Connecticut, in October, 1839, 
by the means and at the expense of the then 
superintendent of common schools in Con- 
necticut, in order to prove the practicability 
and usefulness of the plan. Tlie result was 
entirely satisfactory. A similar class, or 
" temporary normal school," was successful- 
ly conducted during eight weeks by Mr. 
.Stephen R. Sweet, at Kingsboro, Fulton 
county, New York, commencing on the 6th 
of September, 1842. J. S. Denman, Esq., 
school superintendent of Tompkins county. 
New York, urged a similar class upon the 
attention of the Tompkins County Teachers' 
Association in October, 1842, and a teach- 
ers' institute, supposed by him to be the 
first in the state and in the world — and prob- 
ably the first expressly so called — was open- 
ed under his direction in that county in 
April, 1843, and profitably conducted during 
two weeks. 

Institutes were held in man}' places in 
New York during the following five years, 
under the auspices of school officers and 
teachers ; and at the end of that time, in 
November, 1847, an act of the legislature 
made them part of the legal school sys- 
tem, and provided a trifling annual appro- 
priation to aid in holding them in each 
county. 

Under the influence of earnest efforts by 
teachers and educators during 1846, the 
legislature of Connecticut, in May, 1847, 



400 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



made an appropriation wliich enabled the 
superintendent, IJon. S. P. Beers, to provide 
for the holding of institutes in each county 
of the state in the following autumn ; and 
they have since formed part of the state sys- 
tem for training teachers. 

Institutes were introduced into Massachu- 
setts in the autumn of 1846, as part of the 
comprehensive school reform which spread 
through that state under Horace Mann's 
secretaryship of the Board of Education. 
Those of 1846 were held in consequence of 
Hon. Edmund Dwight's gift of $1000 for 
the purpose. In the next year the legisla- 
ture appropriated a sum to continue the 
plan, and they were thus incorporated into 
the public school system of the state of 
Massachusetts. 

The economy and efficiency of this agency 
in training teachers were so great asd mani- 
fest, that they quickly spread into the other 
eastern states, and into many of the middle 
and western ones ; and at present may be 
considered a fixed feature of the American 
system of special training for teachers. In 
1859, it was estimated that upward of 
20,000 teachers were assembled under this 
plan of organization for instruction in their 
professional duties. 



CHAPTER XII. 

SCHOOLS OF SCIEN'CE FOR ENGINEERS, 
GEOLOGISTS, ETC. 

For many years the government school 
for training army officers, founded in 1802, 
and known as the United States Military 
Academy at West Point, stood alone as a 
seminary for advanced education, in which 
classical instruction yielded its pre-eminence 
to mathematical and scientific culture. In 
1824, the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute 
was founded at Troy, N. Y., and furnished 
civilians with the means of education in 
some measure corresponding to but yet much 
lower than the military school at West Point. 
More than twenty years afterward, in 1840, 
the corporation of Yale College established 
two professorships, which soon formed the 
nucleus of the Yale Scientific School ; and 
about the same time a gift of $50,000, sub- 
sequently increased to double that amount, 
by Abbott Lawrence, enabled the corpora- 
tion of Harvard University to establish in 
1847 the Lawrence Scientific School. With- 



in a short time Dartmouth College was en- 
abled to go forward in the same direction, hy 
a bequest of $50,000 received from Abiel 
Chandler, at his decease in 1851, endowing 
the Chandler Scientific School. As these 
three institutions naturally form a group by 
themselves, providing instruction of an ad- 
vanced character in several diflerent branches 
of science, a brief sketch will be given of i 
each one ; but there are a variety of less ad- 
vanced schools, and of schools devoted to a 
single practical object, like the agricultural 
schools at Lansing, Mich., and Ovid, N. Y, 
which will be noticed under their appropri- 
ate head. 

In August, 1 846, the corporation of Yale 
College established two professorships, one 
of agricultural chemistry, the otlier of chem- 
istry applied to the arts ; to the first of winch 
was appointed John Pitkin Norton ; to the 
latter Benjamin Silliman, Jr. At the same 
time a committee was appointed to consider 
the expediency of forming a " Department 
of Philosophy and the Arts" in connection 
with the university. In August, 1847, this 
committee reported that it was expedient to 
form such a department, for the instruction 
of other than undergraduate students. Ac- 
cordingly, the department was organized for 
the purpose of providing instruction in philos- 
ophy, philology, history and natural science, 
etc. The branches of chemistry and engi- 
neering were embraced in one section, under 
the title of the Yale Scientific School. The 
professors, before appointed, entered on their 
duties in the autumn of 1847. In 1852, the 
corporation established in this department 
the degree of Bachelor of Philosophy, to be 
conferred after a two years' connection with 
the school, and a satisfactory examination m 
at least three branches of study. In Septem- 
ber, 1852, the school suffered a severe loss in 
the death of its devoted friend. Professor J. 
P. Norton, who bequeathed to it his collec- 
tion of books and apparatus. New professor- 
ships have from time to time been establish- 
ed, and additional instructors appointed, but 
the school has lacked until 1S6U suflicient 
accommodations and the pecuniary means 
necessary for expansion. By the liberality 
of Joseph E. Sheffield, Esq., of New Haven, it 
is now provided with a spacious building, 
especially adapted to its purposes, and a 
fund of $100,000 for sustaining its courses 
of instruction. To the latter fund other gen- 
tlemen have contributed. This building 
(first opened in September, 1800) contains, 



SCIENTIFIC SCHOOLS. 



401 



besides the usual lecture rooms, extensive 
analytical and niotallurgical laboratories, aiul 
balls for agricultural and technological niusc- 
lums. Opportunity is afforded in the school 
ffor pursuing a general scientific course, ex- 
itending through three years, or special 
icourses in physics, cheinistiy, industrial me- 
ichanics, and engineering, which occupy two 
years each. 

i The degree of Bachelor of Philosophy is 
Inow conferred on those who have completed 
'either the general course or one of the spe- 
!cial courses in the scientific school, and have 
I passed a satisfactory examination. The de- 
'gree of Civil Engineer is conferred on thosr 
iwho have completed, besides the special 
! course in engineering, a higher course of one 
I year. It is also proposed to confer a higher 
': degree, that of Doctor of Philosophy, on 
i those who in their residence and their schol- 
I arship conform to the requirements of the 
I department. In February, 1860, a course 
1 of agricultural lectures was given under the 
' patronage of the school. The faculty of the 
I school now consists of the president of' the 
I college, a professor of civil engineering, a 
I professor of natural history, a professor of 
[ general and applied chemistry, a professor 
of industrial mechanics and physics, a pro- 
fessor of organic chemistry, a professor of 
modern languages, a professor of metallurgy, 
and a professor of analytical and agricultural 
chemistry, besides certain assistants. 

In 1846, the project of a Scientific School, 
to be connected witli Harvard University, 
was first publicly announced, and the plans 
laid before Hon. Abbott Lawrence of Bos- 
ton, a distinguished merchant of wealth and 
public spirit. In June, 1847, he offered to 
the college the munificent sum of $50,- 
000, " for the purpose of teaching the prac- 
tical sciences." This gift was to be ap- 
plied for the erection of suitable buildings, 
and the purchase of apparatus, the residue 
to form a fund for the support of profes- 
sors. 

Oi\ this foundation the school was com- 
menced the same year ; Professor Horsford, 
already connected with the university, filling 
the chair of chemistry ; Professor Agassiz, 
of Switzerland, being called to that of zoology 
and geology, and Lieut. Eustis, of the army, 
to that of engineering. In 1849, a labora- 
tory, then unsurpassed even in Europe in its 
conveniences for practical instruction, was 
erected and furnished ; and in 1850 a build- 
ing was constructed for the temporary accom- 



modation of the departments of zoology, 
geology, and engineering. Besides the pro- 
fessors already mentioned, instruction is given 
by the college professors in mathematics, 
physics, bofan3% comparative anatomy and 
physiology, and mineralogy. The school is 
essentially a combination of independent de- 
partments, each having exclusive control of 
its own internal arrangements, and sustain- 
ing a complete course of instruction for it- 
self. At the death of Mr. Lawrence, August 
18, 1855, the school received by bequest, as 
a second gift, the sum of $50,000, to increase 
its facilities for instruction and research. 
Connection with the school for at least a 
single year, in attendance on the prescribed 
course of studies, in one or more depart- 
ments, and a satisfactory public examination, 
are essential to takinir the degree of Bachelor 
of Science. 

An estate valued at $.350,000 was be- 
queathed to Harvard College in 1842 by 
Mr. Benjamin Bussey, of Roxbury, Mass. (to 
be received after the death of certain rela- 
tives), one half of which, including his man- 
sion and farm, was to be appropriated to the 
establishment of an agricultural school under 
the direction of the college. 

The Chandler Scientific School, connected 
with Dartmouth College, at Hanover, N. II., 
was established in 1851, in acceptance of a 
gift of $50,000, bequeathed to the trustees, 
for this purpose, by Abiel Chandler. He 
was a wealthy merchant of Boston, Mass., 
who was born in 1778 in Concord, N. II, 
and died in Walpolo, N. H., March 22d, 
1851. By the will of the founder, instruc- 
tion is to be given in " mechanics and civil 
engineering, the invention and manufacture 
of machinery, carpentry, masonry, archi- 
tecture, and drawing, the investigation of 
properties and uses of materials employed 
in the arts, the modern languages, and 
English literature, together with bookkeep- 
ing!" The school was opened in 1852, 
and the course of study occupies four j-ears ; 
for the general course in the fourth year, 
may be substituted a civil engineering course 
or a commercial course. 

Those completing the regular course of 
four years, and passing a satisfactory exam- 
ination, are entitled to the degree of Bach- 
elor of Science. 

Resident graduates will be instructed in 
the following advanced subjects, through an 
additional course of one or two years : An- 
alytical chemistry, analytical and celestial 



402 



EDUCATIOtf AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



mechanics, application of raeclianics to car- 
pentry and masonry, mechanical agents, 
geodesy, practical astronomy, the arts of 
design with reference to the useful arts. 

The demand for instruction in chemistry 
beyond the requirements of the general col- 
lege course, has led to a modification of the 
requirements of many of our colleges and 
universities. Among the schools included 
in the University of Virginia, is one of 
chemistry, in which department a systemat- 
ic course of practical instruction is given in 
qualitative and quantitative analysis. The 
laboratory is open, and an instructor gives 
his personal attention to the students there- 
in, for eight hours daily, five days in the 
week 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SCHOOLS OF AGRICULTURE. 

The first plan of an agricultural school or 
college ill the English language, which we 
have met with, was published in 1651 by 
"Master Samuel Hartlib," to whom Milton 
addressed his Tractate on Education, and to 
whom the Parliament of England gave a 
pension for his disinterested efforts to ad- 
vance the agricultural and educational inter- 
ests of the commonwealth. It was nearly 
two hundred years before an institution of 
this character was established by individual 
enterprise, without the aid of any public 
grant, in the British dominions. 

The Agricultural College of the State of 
Michigan was established in 1855, in accord- 
ance with a provision of the revised consti- 
tution of the state, adopted in 1850. The 
legislature in 1855, and again in 1857, pro- 
vided for the purchase of land and the en- 
dowment and management of the institution. 
A tract of 676 acres, lying three and a half 
miles east from Lansing, the state capital, 
was purchased, and a building with accom- 
modations for 80 pupils was erected and 
dedicated May 13th, 1857. The faculty in- 
cludes a president, and professors of mathe- 
matics, chemistry, physiology and entomol- 
ogy, natural science, English literature, and 
farm economy and horticulture. The tui- 
tion is free (except a matriculation fee of 
$5), and the students are required to labor 
three hours a day on the farm, for which 
they receive a compensation which is allow- 
ed in payment of board. The course of 
professional instruction embraces two years. 



and includes — I. Theory and Practice of 
Agriculture — II. Agricultural Chemistry — 
III. Civil and Rural Engineering — IV. Bot- 
any and Vegetable Physiology — V. Zoology 
and Animal Physiology. There is a pre- 
paratory course of one year, designed for 
candidates who have not pursued elsewhere 
the preliminary studies required in English 
language, geography and arithmetic, for 
entrance. 

The State University of Michigan at Ann 
Arbor provides a scientific course, occupy- 
ing four years, and embracing mathematics, 
astronomy, geology, zoology, botany, chem- 
istry, mineralogy, philosophy, rhetoric, his- 
tory and Tnodern languages. The School of 
Engineering, connected with the institution, 
receives students who have completed the 
second and third years of the scientific 
course, and devotes two years to their in- 
struction in engineering. The only charge 
to the student, from whatever part of the 
country he may come, is an admission fee 
of ten dollars. 

The Maryland Agricultural College was 
established and endowed by the state legis- 
lature in 1856. The college farm is about 
two and a half miles north of Bladensburg, 
in Prince George's count)'. The faculty in- 
cludes a president, and five professors, viz.: 
one of the science of agriculture, includ- 
ing chemistry, geology, etc. ; one of the ex- 
act sciences, one of languages, one of phi- 
losophy, history, etc., and one of natural 
history, botany, etc. The student, in cou- 
nection with his course, is obliged to labor 
on the farm. 

The agricultural college now established 
near Ovid, Seneca Co., N. Y., took its rise 
from plans started as early as 1837. No- 
thing definite was accomplished until, in 
1 844, a charter for an agricultural collegft 
was obtained from the legislature ; after fur- 
ther delays, in 1856, the sum of 140,00? 
was appropriated to the college by the legis- 
lature, on condition that a like sum be raised 
by private subscription. ' This was speedily 
accomplished, and a tract of some 4U0 acres 
purchased. Preparation is making for the 
accommodation of a large number of pupils. 

The Farmers' High Schocil of Pennsyl- 
vania was founded by the agricultural society 
of the state, with a fund of $10,000, accu- 
mulated from its annual exhibitions up to 
the autumn of 1854. The legislature passed 
an act of incorporation, and a board of trus- 
tees was organized ; after vai ious private 



COMMERCIAL SCHOOLS — SCHOOLS FOR MECHANICS. 



403 



sbscriptions, the legislature appropriated in 
J!58 the sum of $50,000 to the school, 
lilt' of which sum being dopemlent on the 
fising of a like amount by individual con- 
ribution. In 1856, the suitable farm-build- 
jgs were erected on lands given to the 
pool. 



CHArTER XIV. 

COMMEHCIAL SCHOODB. 

"Commercial schools," which supply an 
lucation adapted to future business life, and 
1 make up in some measure for previous dc- 

iencies in the studies of youths early de- 
)ted to trade, are a class of schools of quite 

cent date; none of them, it is believed, 
eing of a greater age than fifteen or twenty 
ears. They are naturally established in the 
irger and busier mercantile cities, and their 
ourse of study, of course a comparatively 
Irief and confined one, usually includes but 
Ittle if any of classics and literature, con- 
isting principally of writing, book-keeping, 
pmmorcial arithmetic, business proceedings, 
|nd sometimes mercantile law. Their ex- 
ttence seems to indicate a deficiency in their 
lepartment, in the higher public schools, 
llthough those schools could not afford a 
imilar course of equal extent and thorough- 
less. But there is no doubt that a compe- 
3nt course of studies preparatory to com- 
jcrcial life, should form part of the course 
f the high schools of our cities and large 
usiness towns. 



CHAPTER XV. 

SCHOOLS FOR MECHANICS. 

During nearly half a century, many in- 
lications may be traced of a more or less 
listinct feeling of the need of some systcm- 
itic instruction in mechanic arts, although 
^.his feeling has not been so extensive and 
iecided as to result in any permanent iusti- 
-utional provision for the purpose. 

The Lyceum movement, in which Josiah 
[lolbrook was so active a laborer, commenc- 
ing about 1823, was accompanied by the 
mstitution of many courses of lectures and 
:lasses upon subjects connected with me- 
chanics and trades. The Mechanics' School 
of New York City, an institution still exist- 



ing, was originally intended to afford instruc- 
tion, among other things, in mechanical pro- 
cesses and the application of mechanical 
principles. 

A movement was made in the legislature 
of Massachusetts, in 1825, for the establish- 
ment of a state institution for the professional 
training of youth intending to follow " mer- 
cantile, manufacturing, and mechanical pur- 
suits."' Though advocated with some earn- 
estness during several sessions, this plan 
never reached a practical development. 

The " manual lalior schools," of which a 
considerable number were established a few 
years later, frequently provided for the prac- 
tice of some mechanical trade, usually car- 
pentr}-. Such was the ciise at Lane Semi- 
nary and at the Oneida Institute, both found- 
ed in 1829, and elsewhere. 

Somewhat more extensive w.as the plan of 
the Franklin Institute of Philadelphia, which 
established in 1826 a high school, of which 
it was a special object to " afi'ord the indus- 
trial classes cheap instruction in sciences and 
arts." This institution flourished under the 
energetic management of Professor W. R. 
Johnson, and until superseded by the intro- 
duction of the present school system of 
Philadelphia, with its high school, which 
has not, however, retained this practical de- 
partment. 

Brief courses of lectures, to apprentices, 
or to mechanics, were organized at various 
points, as a consequence of the Lyceum 
movement. Where these have been main- 
tained as an annual institution, however, 
their distinctive, practically useful character 
has invariably disappeared in the merely 
amusing dissipation which is the only object 
of the present " lecture system." 

There exist at present in Philadelphia and 
Brooklyn schools known as " Polytechnic 
Schools ;" but this name seems to have been 
chosen as well adapted to catch the ear, 
rather than as descriptive of any thing pecu- 
liar in their course of study. 

Some provision for systematic instruction 
in the mechanic arts, of a higher grade than 
the pure realism of the shop, is certainly 
needed. Departments of this character at- 
tached to the higher public schools of our 
larger towns would unquestionably serve a 
very useful purpose, and would command a 
certain number of pupils. At the same 
time it must be confessed that this number 
would not immediately be great ; a fact 
readily accounted for by the two considera- 



404 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



tions, that the peculiar conditions of life in 
the' United States strongly disincline the 
young to apply themselves long or closely to 
the acquirement of a finished mastery of any 
occupation, and that it would be extremely 
difficult to supply instructors qualified to ex- 
plain and teach the actual practical applica- 
tion to wood, stone, metal, and other mate- 
rials, of true scientific princijiles in the most 
economical way. 



CHAPTER XVI. 
FINE ARTS. 

In modern civilization, culture in fine arts 
(music, painting, sculpture, architecture) is 
the attribute and privilege of an advanced 
stage of social organization. The people of 
the United States, hitherto intensely oc- 
cupied in subduing a new countr}', and in a 
vigorous and prosperous pursuit of material 
wealth, have at the present day but just be- 
gun those vast accretions of capital, which 
must form the basis of any culture in fine 
arts worthy of the name. To none of these 
arts has great attention been given, and for 
teaching them nothing like a general public 
provision has been made. 

During the last thirty years, the practice 
has slowly gained ground among the public 
schools, both in city and country, of afford- 
ing the pupils some instruction and training 
in the rudiments of singing. In a far small- 
er number of schools, similar rudimentarv 
instruction has been given in drawing; and 
in one or two secondary schnols of the high- 
er city class, pupils have been aftbrded the 
means of pursuing that stnd\' further, by 
means of collections of casts and models. 

Generally speaking, however, the aspirant 
after a profound or even competent knowl- 
edge of an J' fine art, has been left to acquire 
it either by his own unassisted and solitary 
labor, by the aid of some older practitioner, 
or by study in foreign schools of art. 

The progress of the study of music in our 
schools, is coincident with the career of the 
distinguished teacher, Lowell Mason, who 
was the first to introduce into the school 
system an efficient mode of teaching singing, 
about 18:W. Of musical schools oxciusi\elv. 
it is believed that there have not been more 
than two, both of which are in Connecticut. 
Private schools for gitls usually afford their 
pupils more or less training in executing 



music upon the piano-forte, but without 
communicating any scientific knowledge of 
music. 

Within a recent period, several schools 
have been opened in a few of the larjjer 
cities, for instruction in drawing; always 
having the pi'actical side most prominent, 
and leading their pupils as ra]iidlv as possi- 
ble toward the production of salable designs 
for manuf^acturing purposes, or of wood en- 
gravings for the use of publishers. A super- 
ficial practice in drawing, usually by the 
senseless method of exclusively copying 
other drawings or engravings, is commonly 
afi'oi'ded at private schools for girls. Some 
small advantages for those desiring more ad- 
vanced acquirements, are aftbrded by tlie 
various public galleries iind collections acces- 
sible in some large cities. The painter or 
sculptor, as well as the architect, must how- 
ever learn his art from such sources as his 
individual opportunities allow him to com- 
mand. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

FEMALE EDUCATION. -^ 

The education of girls is of course not 
properly a special department any more than 
that of boys. Still, the history and the 
present condition of this department of edu- 
cation present many facts which will suffi- 
ciently justify its separate treatment, aside 
from the intrinsic diftereuces which must also 
characterize it. 

Until a comparatively recent period, but 
trifling provision was made for the education 
of girls. Down to the close of the Revolu- 
tion, although girls might attend the public 
schools, but a small share of time or labor 
was devoted to them ; and their attention 
was supjiosed to be more suitably directed to 
needle-work and housewiFery than to intel- 
lectual training. 

The first school of eminence exclusively 
for girls was the Moravian Seminary at Beih- 
lehem, Pennsylvania. This was established as 
early as 1 749, but was not opened .ms a board- 
ing-school until 178j. It enjoyed a national 
reputation ; and its catalogue includes such 
names as Lansing, Livingston, Bayard, Sum- 
ter, and many others from the whole range 
of states. It was never more flourishuig 
than ill ISGO. 

It has been claimed that President Dwight, \ 
in his school at Greenfield, opened in 1783, 1 



FKMALB KDUCATION. 



405 



was the first in the country to admit pupils 
of both sexes to an entire equality of intel- 
lectual training. In any event, both this 
school end his previous one at Northampton 
afforded to both boys and girls an education 
of uncommon value for the period. 

When that famous teacher, Caleb Bingham, 
removed to Boston, in 1784, he did so with 
the design of opening there a school for girls, 
who were, singularly enough, at that time ex- 
cluded from the public schools. Jlr. Bing- 
ham's enterprise was successful, and was also 
the means of revolutionizing the unfair school 
syst:>m of the city, and of introducing a plan 
which, though variously imperfect, at least 
provided some public instruction for girls. 

In 1792, Miss Pierce opened a school for 
girls at Litchfield, Connecticut, which con- 
tinued in operation for forty years, and edu- 
cated largo numbers of young ladies from all 
parts of the country. In the same year, at 
Philadelphia, was incorporated one of the 
first, if not the first, female academies in this 
country. 

From about 1797 to 1800, Rev. William 
Woodbridge, father of the well-known au- 
thor and educator W. C. Woodbridge, taught 
a young ladies' school, at first at Norwich, 
and afterward at Middletown, Conn. 

In 1816, Mrs. Emma Willard commenced 
her endeavors to secure for women the op- 
portunity of acquiring a grade of education 
corresponding to that which colleges furnish 
to the other sex. The eminent success and 
excellence of her celebrated school at Troy 
are well known; and an important conse- 
quence of her labors was, that female semi- 
naries were admitted to receive aid from the 
literature fund of the state of New York, 
on the same terms with the academies. 

From 1818 to 1830, Picv. Joseph Emerson 
conducted a young ladies' school of high rep- 
utation and efficiency, successively at Byfield 
and Saun-us, Mass., and Wethersfield, Conn. 
In 1823, George B. Emerson, Esq., opened 
a young ladies' school at Boston, probably 
with a more complete and efficient outfit and 
apparatus than any which had preceded it. 

The well-known school of John Kingsbury, 
Esq., an institution of similar grade and ex- 
cellence, was opened at Providence, K. I., in 
18-28. 

In 1822, Miss Catherine E. Beecher open- 
ed a school for young ladies at Hartford, 
Conn., which she conducted with eminent 
success for ten years. She afterward taught 
for a short period at Cincinnati, but her la- 



bors for female education have subsequently 
consisted in various publications, and in the 
management of an extended scheme for a 
system of Christian female education, inclu- 
ding a national board, high schools, and nor- 
mal schools ; which has resulted in the es- 
tablishment of several valuable institutions. 

In 1825, at Wilbraham, Mass., was open- 
ed the first of the Methodist Conference 
seminaries ; institutions whose plan has sub- 
stantially followed that of the Wilbraham 
Seminary, which was drawn up bj- Rev. Wil- 
bur Fiske, its first principal. 

Miss Z. P. Grant and Miss Mary Lyon, 
both pupils of Rev. Joseph Emerson, were 
associated in the conduct of an excellent 
school for young ladies at Ipswich, Mass. 
The energetic and persevering labors of Miss 
Lyon, with the purpose of establishing a per- 
manent Protestant school of high grade for 
young ladies, resulted in the establishment 
of the celebrated seminary at South Iladley, 
which was opened in 1837. 

The present era in the history of female edu- 
cation in the United States is perhaps most 
strikingly characterized by the number of 
large and largely endowed institutions of a 
high grade, which have been established in 
various parts of the country. One -of them is 
the Mount Uolyoke Female Seminary, at 
South Iladley, just mentioned. The Packer 
Collegiate Institute at Brooklyn, N. Y., an- 
other of them, had previously existed as the 
B:'ooklyn Institute ; and received its present 
n.amc in consequence of the munificent gift 
of 88.5,000 by Mrs. Harriet L. Packer of tliat 
city. The whole property represents a value 
of §1.50,000. A still more magnificent en- 
dowment is that of the Vassar Female Col- 
lege at Poughkeepsie, N. Y., for which the 
vast sum of $408,000 has been given by 
Matthew Vassar, Esq., of that city. 

A characteristic of the female education 
of the present period is the practice of ad- 
mitting pupils of both sexes to institutions 
for secondary and superior education; to the 
high schools of cities, to academies, to the 
normal schools, and even in one or two in- 
stitutions of the collegiate grade. Another 
one is the increasing regard which is paid to 
the employment of female teachers, and to 
their thorough preparatory training f ir that 
duty, in institutiiins partly or wholly for that 
purpose. On the whole, the department of 
foinale education is, at present, attracting as 
much attention, a:id improving as rapidly, 
as any other. 



406 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAl, INSTITUTIONS. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

SCHOOL-HOUSES, APPARATUS, AND TEXT- 
BOOKS. 

In no department of instruction has the 
work of improvement been so general, so 
rapid, or so thorough as in the material 
outfit of the school. Within a quarter of 



a century a revolution has been wrought 
in public opinion and action in respect 
to the location, construction, ventilation, 
warming, furniture, and equipment gener- 
ally, of school-houses, and more than thir- 
ty-five millions of dollars have been ex- 
pended for these objects withiu this short 
period. 



SCHOOL-HOUSES AS THET WERE. 





SCHOOL-HOUSES, APPARATUS, AND TEXT-BOOKS. 



407 



SCHOOL HOUSES AS THEY ARE. 




COUNTRY DISTRICT SCUOOL-IIOUSE. 




TILLAGE SCHOOL-HOUSa 




^ 




111 't ' 'F — F'^v Ks. "^-ir^ 



|i '" 



PACKER FEMALE COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE. 




Fig- 3. Interior of Chapku 



SCHOOL-HOUSES, APPARATUS, AND TEXT-BOOKS. 



413 



I SCHOOL-BOOKS. 

The improvement in the authorsliip and manufacture of text-books, from the Primer 
to the Manuals of our colleges and scientific schools, within the last half centurv is im- 
mense. We will refresh the memory of some of our readers by reproducing a few 
of the tough subjects and illustrations with which they or their fathers were painfully 
familiar. 

The Horn-hook. 

Few of us have had the satisfaction of learning our letters after the manner de- 
scribed by Prior :— 

"To master John the Enprlish maid 
A Horn-book gives of giii}j;erbreaij; 
And that the child may learn tlie better, 
As he can name, he eats the letter." 

To many, even a picture of the old-fashioned Horn-book — the Primer of onr ancestors, 
consisting of a single leaf pasted on a board, and covered in some instances with thin 




nOKN-BOOK OF THE ElUUTEBNTH CEXTURT. 



tr.insparent horn to preserve it from being torn or soiled — will be new. The following 
description and the accompanying cut we copy from Barnard's American Journal of 
Educitiort. for March, 1860:^ 

Shcnstone, who was taught to read at a dame school near Halesowen, in Shropshire, in 



414 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



his dcliu'litfully quaint poem of the Schoolmistress, commemorating his venerable precep- 
tress, thus records the use of the Horn-book : — 

" Lo I now witli state slie utters lier command ; 
Kftsoons tlie urcliins to their tasks repair; 
Tlieir books of stature small tliey take iu hand, 
Wliich with pellucid liorn secured are 
To save from finger wet the letters fair." 

Cowper thus describes the Ilorn-book of his time : — 

" Neatly secured from being soiled or torn 
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn, ~ ~ 

A book (to please us at a tender age 
'Tis called a book, though but a single page). 
Presents the prayer the Saviour deigned to teach, 
Which children use, and parsons — when they preach." 

Tirocinium, or a Review of Schools, 1784. 

In " Specimens of West Coiuitnj Dialect," the use of the Horn-book is thus shown; — 
" Commether Billy Chubb, an breng the liorncn boolc. Gee nia the vester in tha 
■n'indor, yor Pal came! — What! be a sleepid — I'll wake ye. Now, Billy, there's a good 
bway ! Ston still there, and mind what I da za to ye, an whaur I da point. Now ; criss- 
cross, girt a, little a — b — c — d. That's right, Billy; you'll zoon lorn the criss-cross- 
lain ; you'll zoon auvergit Bobby Jiffry — you'll zoon be a scholanl. A's a pirty chubby 
bway — Lord lov'n !" 



^cw England Primer. 



Of the New England Primer we can give 
no earlier specimen than the edition of \111; 
embellished with a portrait of John Han- 
cock, Esq., who was at that time President 
of the Continental Congress. 




The Honorable JOHN HANCOCK, Efq; 
Prefident of the American Congress. 



We must not omit the painfully interest- 
ing group of John Rogers in the burning 
faffffots, with his wife and nine or ten chil- 
dren — including the one at the breast — a 
problem which has puzzled many a school- 
boy's brain : 




'R. JohnRooers, minifter of the 
gofpel in London, was the firtl mar- 
tyr in Queen Mary's reign, and was 
burnt at Smithfield, February 14, 1554.— His 
wife with nine small children, and one at 
her breast following him to the Itake ; with 
which forrowful fijjhi he w:-s not in the 
leart daunted, but with woinUrful patience 
died coun-.guoufly for the gofpel o!" J E s u » 

C H K I S T . 



SCHOOL-HOUSES, APPARATUS, AND TEXT-BOOKS. 



415 



Wc are fortunate in being able to present our readers witb an exact transcript of the 
>iir paijes of the first illustrated alphabet printed in this countr}'. Some of our readers 
uav recognize their old friends of the later editions of the Primer, in which " Young 
fimothy" and ''Zaccheus he" were drawn to nature less severely true. The whole 
belongs to that department of literature which " he who runs may read, and he who reads 
Will run." 




In Adam's Fall 
We fmned all. 



Heaven to find, 
Th.e Bible Mind. 



Chrifl crucify'd 
For finners dy'd. 



The Deluge drown'd 
The Earth around. 



Elijah hid 
By Ravens fed. 



The judgment made 
Felix afraid. 



C 



Q 



i; 




X o A H did view 
The old world & new 

Young O B A D I A s, 
David, Jo. s IAS 
All wore pious. 

P F T E R deny'd 
His Lord and cry'd. 

Queen E s i h e r fues 
And faves the Jews. 



Young pious Ruth, 
Lelt all lor Truth. 



Young S A M ' l dear 
The Lord did fear. 




As runs the Glass, 
Our Life doth pass. 

My Book and Heart 
Must never part. 



Job feels the Rod, — 
Yet bleffes GOD. 



Proud Korah's troop 
Was fwallowed up 

Lot fled to Zoar, 
Saw fiery Shower 
On Sodom pour. 

Moses was he 
Who IsraePs Hoft 
Led thro' the Sea. 



vV 



X 



Y 




Young Timothy 
Learnt fin to fly. 

V A s T H I for Pride, 
Was fet afide. 



Whales in the Sea, 
GOD's Voice obey. 



Xerxes did die. 
And fo mufl I. 



While youth do chcar 
Death may be near. 

ZACcnEiisha 
Did climb the Tree 
Our Lord to fee. 



416 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



WEBSTER'S SPELLING BOOK. 

Few books liave done more to give uniformity to the orthography of the language or 
to fill the memory of successive generations with wholesome truths than Webster's Spell- 
ing Book. Who can forget his first introduction to those four-and-twenty cliaractcrs, 
standing in stiff upright columns, in their roman and italic dress, beginning with Utile a, 
and ending with that nondescript ^^ and per se ;" or his first lesson in combining letters, 



bu 



by 



ba be bi bo 

Or his joy in reaching words of two syllables, 

ba ker bri er ci der 

Or his exultation in learning to "know his duty" in those " Lessons of Easy Words" be- 
ginning, 

No man may put off the law of God : 
Or the more advanced steps, both in length of words and stubborn morality, in pursuit of 

The wicked flee 
And closing his spelling career with 



And 



Om 

Mich 

Ail 
Ale 



pom 
il 



pa noo 
11 mack 



sue 
a nack 



to be troubled 
malt liquor 



In this hasty glance at this famous text book, we have designedly passed over the fa^ 
bles commencing with the Rude Boy and ending with Poor Tray, that we might intro- 
duce them all unabridged with their unique illustrations. 

Of the Boy thatJioU Apples. 



AN old man found a rude boy upon 
one of his trees ftealing Apples, and de- 
fired him to come down; but the young 
Sauce-box told him plainly he would 
not. Won't you .? faid the old Man, 
then I will fetch you down ; fo he pulled 
up fome tufts of Grafs, and threw at 
him ; but this only made the Youngfter 
laugh, to think the old Man (hould pre- 
tend to beat him down from the tree 
with grafs only. 

Well, well, faid the old Man, if nei- 
ther words nor grafs will do, I muft try 
what virtue there is in Stones ; fo the 
old Man pelted him heartily with ftones; 



which foon made the young Chap haften down from the tree and beg the old Man's pardon. 




MORAL. 

If good words and gentle means will not reclaim the wicked, they muft be dealt with in a 
more fevere manner. 



WEBSTER 8 SPELLING BOOK. 



417 




The Country Maid and her Milk Pail. 

WHEN men fufFer their imagination 
to amufe them, with the profpeit of dif- 
tant and uncertain improvements of their 
condition, they frequently fuftain real 
lofles, by their inattention to thofe affairs 
in which they are immediately concern- 
ed. 

A country Maid was walking very de- 
liberately with a pail of milk upon her 
head, when fhe fell into the following 
train of refleftions : The money for 
which I fhall fell this milk will enable 
me to increafe my Hock of eggs to three 
hundred. Thefe eggs, allowmg for what 
may prove addle, and what may be de- 
ftroyed by vermin, will produce at leaft 
two hundred and fifty chickens. The 
hickens will oe fit to carry to market about Chriftmas, when poultry always bears a good 
jrice ; fo that by May Day I cannot fail of having money enough to purchafe a new Gown. 
JGreen — let me confider — yes, green becomes my complexion beft, and green it (hall be. In 
this drefs I will go to the fair, where all the young fellows will ftrive to have me for a part- 
ner; but I (hall perhaps refufe every one of them, and with an air of difdain, tofs from 
•them. Tranfported with this triumphant thought, (he could not forbear afting with her head 
what thus paffed in her imagination, when down came the pail of milk, and with it all her 
imaginary happinefs. 

I The Cat and the Rat. 

A CERTAIN Cat had made fuch 
unmerciful havoc among the vermin of 
her neighbourhood, that not a fingle Rat 
or Moufe ventured to appear abroad. 
Pufs was foon convinced, that if affairs 
remained in their prefent fituation, fhe 
mull be totally unfupplied with provif- 
ions. After mature deliberation, there- 
fore, {he refolved to have recourfe to 
ftratagem. For this purpofe fhe fuf- 
pended herfelf to a hook with her head 
downwards, pretending to be dead. 
The Rats and Mice, as they peeped 
from their holes, obferving her in this 
dangling attitude, concluded fhe was 
hanging for fome mifdemeanour ; and 
with great joy immediately fallied forth in queft of their prey. Pufs, as foon as a fufficient 
number were collefted together, quitting her hold, dropped into the midft of them; and 
very few had the fortune to make good their retreat. This artifice having fucceeded fo well, 
file was encouraged to try the event of a fecond. Accordingly (he whitened her coat all 
over, by rolling herfelf in a heap of flour, and in this difguifc lay concealed in the bottom of 
a meal tub. This ftratagem was executed in general with the same effeft as the former. But 
an old experienced Rat, altogether as cunning as his adverfary, was not fo eafily enfnared. I 
don't much like, faid he, that white heap yonder : Something whifpers me there is mifchief 
concealed under it. 'Tis true it may be meal ; but it may likewife be fomething that I (hould 
not reli(h quite fo well. There can be no harm at leaft in keeping at a proper diftance ; for 
caution, I am fure, is the parent of fafety. 




418 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



The Fox and the Swallow. 

ARISTOTLE informs us, that the 
following Fable was spoken by Etop to 
the Samians, on a debate upon chang- 
ing their minifters, who were acculed 
of plundering the commonwealth. 

A Fox fwimming acrofs a river, 
happened to be entangled '" fome 
weeds that grew near the bank, from 
which he was unable to extricate him- 
felf. As he lay thus cxpofed to whole 
fwarms of flies, which were galling him 
and fucking his blood, a fwallow, ob- 
fcrving his diftrefs, kindly offered to 
drive them away. By no means, faid 
the Fox ; for if thefe ftiould be chafed 
away, which are already fufficiently 
more hungry fwarm would fucceed, and I fhould be robbed of every re- 
blood in my veins. 




gorged, 
maining 



another 
drop of 



The 




each 
from 



bitter has 
danger. 



Fox and the Bramble. 

A FOX, clofely purfued by a pack 
of Dogs, took ihelter under the covert 
of a Bramble. He rejoiced in this 
afylum ; and for a while, was very 
happy ; but foon found that it he at- 
tempted to ftir, he was wounded by 
thorns and prickles on every fide. 
However, making a virtue of ncceffity, 
he f)rbore to complain; and com- 
forted himfelf with rcflefting that no 
blifs is perfefl ; that good and evil are 
mixed, and flow from the fame foun- 
tain. Thefe Briers, indeed, faid he, 
will tear my (kin a little, yet they keep 
off the dogs. For the fake of the good 
then let me bear the evil with patience ; 
its fweet; and thefe Brambles, though they wound my flcfli, preferve my life 

The Partial Judge. 

A FARMER came to a neighbour- 
ing Lawyer, exprefling great concern 
for an accident which he faid had jufl: 
happened. One of your Oxen, con- 
tinued he, has been gored by an un- 
lucky Bull of mine, and I fhould be 
glad to know how I am to make you 
reparation. Thou art a very honeft 
fellow, replied the lawyer, and wilt 
not think it unreafonable that I ex- 
pert one of thy Oxen in return. It 
is no more than juftice, quoth the Far- 
mer, to be fure ; but what did I fay ? 
— I miftake — It is your Bull that has 
killed one of my Oxen. Indeed ! fays 
the Lawyer, that alters the cafe ; I 




WEBSTER 8 SPELLING BOOK. 



419 



mull inquire into the affair ; and if — And if ! faid the Farmer — the bufinefs I find would 
have been concluded without an if, had you been as ready to do juftice to others, as to exail 
it from them. 



The Bear and the two Friends. 

TWO Friends, fetting out togeth- 
er upon a journey, which led through 
a dangerous foreft, mutually promifed 
to affill each other if they Ihould hap- 
pen to be aflaulted. They had not 
proceeded far, before they perceived 
a Bear making towards them with 
great rage. 

There were no hopes in flight; but 
one of them, being very aftive, fprung 
up into a tree; upon which the other, 
throwing himfelf flat on the ground, 
held his breath and pretended to be 
dead ; remembering to have heard it 
aflerted, that this creature will not 
prey upon a dead carcafs. The bear 
came up, and after fmelling to him fome time, left him and went on. When he was fairly 
out of fight and hearing, the hero from the tree called out— Well, my friend, what faid the 
bear 1 he feemed to whifper you very clofely. He did fo, replied the other, and gave me this 
good piece of advice, never to alTociate with a wretch, who in the hour of danger, will defert 
his friend. 




The Tiuo Dogs. 

HASTY and inconfiderate con- 
nections are generally attended with 
great difadvantages ; and much of 
every man's good or ill fortune, de- 
pends upon the choice he makes of 
his friends. 

A good-natured Spaniel overtook a 
furly Maftiff, as he was travelling up- 
on the high road. Tray, although 
an entire ftranger to Tiger, very civ- 
illy accofted him ; and if it would be 
no interruption, he faid, he Ihould be 
glad to bear him company on his way. 
Tiger, who happened not to be alto- 
gether in fo growling a mood as ufual, 
accepted the propofal; and they very 
amicably purfued their journey together. In the midlt of their converfation, they arrived at 
the next village, where Tiger began to difplay his malignant difpofition, by an unprovoked 
attack upon every dog he met. The villagers immediately fallied forth with great mdig- 
nation, to refcue their refpeftive favourites ; and falling upon our two friends, without dif- 
tinaion or mercy, poor Tray was moft cruelly treated, for no other reafon, but his being 
found in bad company. 




420 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



The following cuts, sketched from Willson's Scries of " School and Family Readers," w'th the ac- 
companvinj? explanations, show the ^reat dej^ree of advancement made, not only in the arti-tic beauty 
of the Illustrations contained in tlie latest piil)lished of our Readinjz-Hooks, but, more especially, in the 
successful attempt to combine instruction in reading with advancement in useful knowledye. 




From the First Reader. 



Eye, Nose, Ear, Mouth, Face. 





Arm, 11, 



it, Foot, Shue. 



The Fagle's Nest. 



The leiding principle developed in the Second Reahfh Part I,, "Storiea from the Bibln," beaiitifiilly sin'l hnunHfiilly 



(but uliich iilso Tun^ through'jut the entire S-ri'-s) \a the eu\y 
cuUiviition of the /'. re p'ive F.iniWm hy !e.Ti:?ons drawn from 
a great vaii.-ty of object:* and scenes which are represented lo 
the eye of the pupil. 

The Tiiiui> RfiAi>ER of the Seiies, after a brief =>yn p h of 
the "Kleiu nts of Mlo.-uijon," U divided intu 1 ur I a t — 



tsrated.— Part li., "Moial lywon^^."— P;trt Ii;., "■lirst 
IMvision of Animal Lift','" enibrafing ihe Manim!iU;i; and 
Part IV., *^ .Mi-cellaneoiis." The followiiif:; forir illu^tra ions 
give the pupil a gi neral idea of the four gi eat divioiona of the 
\niinal KiugJum. 



" \ mm 





^tMALB 

nina. 



OF THT, Srai, Kind. — 1. Coninion Sci), PJinrn rUii'in'y. 2. Sen-Bear, Phocaur- 
3. :jca-LioD, Phocajubata. 4. WuliUd, or Sea-llorae, Trkhechus roetiiaTUS. 



The snhj:ct of thp }fimma- 
Jia, in the Thirp Kfaper, is 
illQ-trat(d ly more than two 
hnndi-i'd figuns of Animali", 
many of thi m i i groups, with 
Scah'K o/ Ain.Hit"mL'ne show- 
ing thdr romp:irj tive tizt3, ua 
in the Animnls of the Seal kind 
in the anm xed cngiaviag. 
This we believe to be u new 
feature, even in zoological 
works-, and it ia one that b em- 
inently useful. 

An attempt has been made— 
and, it ia believed, f-ucee-isfiilly 
—to invest the fiiibj<ct of ani- 
mal life with a gnat dcgi-e- of 
hiferest for rbildnn; to pojiv- 
hrize it to the r capucities; to 
give all d >i altl variety to the 
lessons, asi xerciee-= inTi'iidin^; 
and to convey as mu "h pot^iiive 
iiif'irviat on as would h- com- 
paiib'ewith ih sl- requi.-ite3for 
a good Keading-B >ok. Numei^ 
oils intere;4iDgincidenia of ani- 
mal life; ilhi.-^trating tnita of 
character, hahiis, &c , tmtl both 
piietical and prose sclectionf, 
I ffectually relieve the deacri))* 
tiuns of that stm- nrsx of style 
and matter which U found in 
moat zoulo^icul worka. 



ACADEMIES, HIGH SCHOOLS, ETC. 



421 




The FO0RTH Readeb, in ati- 
dition to Mi.si-elhxnfoua Sek-c- 
tiontJ, h'ls divi^ione* dF '■'• Fiirty" 
ftppropiiated to " 1 1 iim:in Fliy>- 
ioKi^y and Health," "Orni- 
tholo-jy^or BinK" " Vigutahle 
Phy9iolo.:y< or Botany," " Nai- 
iiral Phiio-ophy," i.nd *■' Sncivd 
UMovy," in nil which lliert i^ 
groiit liter, ry variety, well 
ad ipted for reiidiiig k-s^on-^ ; 
and, moreover, the l)eauiit'ul 
illustrationa te:xh iLff/nl .farts. 
Oneof theciil9 f oni "Umithol- 
rgy," showing the f>>rm!=, r lii- 
tive sizes, «&(■., of tlie "Climb- 
ing Birds," is hire jiivm. 

The FiFTii KEAnr.r^ which is 
the highest in the ^\tv\G^ thiia 
fir publislied, h:is, in addition 
to the Mi^celhineou? l>iv^^ion3 
embracing a variety ot the l-est 
literjiry seh ctions, the eleven 
following "P;:rt3." 

1. ''Elocutionary ;" 2. "Tler- 
petolocry, orHeptilep;" 3 "Sec- 
ond liivigion of Human I'liy-l- 
ologvandllealth;" -lih, "S c- 
ond JDivi^imiof Yig 'iiibh- I'hy^^- 
iology, or Botany; 5. '" Ichthy- 
ology, or 1-ishes;" fi. * I'ivil 
Arrhiteclure;" 7. "Second Di- 
vLinn of Natural Philosophy; 
8. ^--Pliysical Gicgrnphy;" 9. 
^*Ch':mi.-try;" 10. ''Geology:" 
11. "Ancient lll-toiy." We 
liave room to iniroduc::' only 
one illustration from each of 
two of these divi^^ions. 

The Botanical Illustration 
here given repre?cnts the 
Trumpet -Flower and Lalii)ite 
Families; anothtr cut shows 
the features which specially 
characteiize these familie.'-, but 
for which we linvf no. room 
hire. The Cla^pification of 
itB, in accordance wiili tiie 
yit ual ^\y.s■^'7n, is shown 
cliiitly by such intire^ting il- 
lu.-t litions as these, which cer- 
tainly accomplish fai' mon- than 
pngea of descrip.ion. More- 
over, the economical uses of 
plants are not ovirlooked, and 
the entire treatmi-nt of the pub- 
jpct U well calcuhited to culti- 
vate, in early life, a ta^te for 
the Buccessful study of Nmu e. 
In the dt partment of Ichihyol- 
ogy, 1-5 species of fi^^h are fig- 
ured. Physical Geogr.iphy. 
Architecture, Geology, &c., 
have their app!0]iriate illustra- 
tions, all teaching us ful facts 
in ecience, hut without the- dry- 
n!'pg which iieually accomjianits 
tci.'utific detail. 

Of the viry succ ssfnl man- 
ner in which the iihov. sul.jecls 
have been made to comhin. the 
Hf'rnnf variet'i n quired in 
R.ading-Books fcr youth, witli 
iiistu Hon in n.-<i\ ul knon-l- 
frh'i\ wc have not room to spe; k 
hc-e; but we commenr] a crit- 
ic tl rxnminiition of ihe books 
rhemsRlv. s— in thf ir dctii^-n, 
pi in, and ox cuiiou — to evt ry 
on* interppte'l in tin- subject of 
Kduc itional Progregp. 

What a c ntr;;pt between 
these and -ur earlier R. ailing- 
Books I The sim])Ie fact that 
publishers can now aford to il- 
lustrate, 80 elaborately, books 
designed fur u-ie in our ComTmm. 
Schoolx^ speaks volumes for the 
cause of PopuUir Education. 



422 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL ISSTITCTIONS. 



SCHOOL APPARATUS. 



,,f«!iiiilii,4li,|«,j 







APPARATUS AND EQUIPMENT OF THE DISTRICT SCHOOL AS IT WAS. 





o'lbrdok sc[iOoiJapparAtIjs' 



_ t:lil!fii'iiif;:ta*l:ll:il:!l;:i,: i„i -i I • ii 

BPECIMENS OF APPAEATU8 OF THE SCUOOL AS IT IS, 





TiiK Eureka \\'aijl-Slate3. 




TllK N?:\V Si-H'ioL (il.oHK. 



Hajimond Blackboard Scpport. 




The New C'RAYnN-Hin.nKU. (full size.) 




The •■ Assembly" School Dej^kj* and Settees. 




DE6K AND SKTTEB, COMBINED. 



DESK AND SETTEE, INDEPENDENT. 



Thk Nbv Autbrtcan Desks, with Allen's Opera Seat8 




Principal's Platform DEsit. (rear vibw.) 





AeE>iBTANT Teacher's Dksk, 



TlMBY B Globr Timk-Pikoe. 



LIBRARIES. 



423 



CBArTER XIX. 

LIBRARIES. 

At the close of the Revolution, there 
were very few public libraries in the couu- 
try ; hardly any, indeed, away from the col- 
let;es and large towns, and even these, few 
and small as they were, were not generall}' 
accessible. The oldest of.them all was that 
of Harvard University, which commenced 
with the bequest of Harvard's books in 1G38, 
but had been completely destroyed by fire 
in 1 7(34. Great efforts were made to restore 
it, and before the commencement of the 
Revolution about $20,000 and considerable 
quantities of hooks had been contributed 
for that purpose. It could, however, hardly 
have liad more than 10,000 or 12,U00 vol- 
umes at that period. The only other col- 
lege libraries then in existence (all of them 
small, but two or three of. them containing 
many valuable works,) were the librarv of 
Yale College, founded in 1 700, which had 
received important additions from Bishop 
Berkeley and other P]ngli^h gentlemen ; the 
very small library of William and Maiy, at 
Williamsburg, Va., founded, perhaps, two 
or three years earlier; tliat of the Univer- 
sity of Pennsylvania, founded in 17-19, also 
small, but valuable ; that of New Jersc}^ Col- 
lege, at Princeton, founded in 174G; that 
of King's, now Columbia, College, founded 
in 17.57, and containing at the close of the 
Revolution not more than 2000 volumes ; 
and the few hundred volumes which had 
been collected, as nuclei of libraries, in 
Brown University from, and after 1768, 
Dartmouth College from 1769, and Rutgers 
Coller;'e from 1770 to the close of the war. 
Of proprietary libraries, the oldest and 
best was the Philadelphia Library Company 
and Loganian Collection, founded by Ben- 
jamin Franklin in 1731, which in 1783 con- 
tamed about 5000 volumes. The Redwood 
Library at Newport, R. I., incorporated in 
1747, though not a large collection, possessed 
considerable value to the classical and theo- 
logical student. The New York Society Li- 
brary, founded in 1754, had attained to con- 
siderable size prior to the war, but suffered 
much from the vandalism of the British sol- 
diers, its books being carried ofl' by the 
knapsackful and bartered for grog. In 1795 
it had only 5000 volumes. The Charleston 
Library Society was founded a year or two 
earlier than the New York Society, and at 
the commencement of the war had between 



five and six thousand volumes, aside from 
the library of Mr. Mackenzie, bequeathed to 
it about the same time. In 1778, however, 
this fine collection was almost entirely de- 
stroyed by fire, a small portion of the books 
only being rescued from the flames, and of 
these many being broken sets. The Provi- 
dence Athena-um, founded in 1753, the 
Salem Athenaeum in 1760, and the Port- 
land Athenaeum in 1765, .small collections, 
but well selected, the special library of the 
American Philosophical Society at Philadel- 
phia, and a state library of three or four 
hundred vijlumes, at Concord, New Hamp- 
shire, complete the catalogue of public li- 
braries of any considerable importance at 
the close of the war of the Revolution. 

The period immediately subsequent to the 
war was not favorable to the multiplication 
or growth of libraries ; for, being among 
the outgrowths of an opulent and luxurious 
civilization, we could hardly look for their 
increase amid the poverty and financial re- 
vulsions which continued till nearly the 
close of the last century. Between 1783 
and 1800, ten colleges and one theological 
seminary were founded, and some of them 
— as, for instance, Bowdoin, Georgetown, 
D. C, Williams, Dickinson, Transylvania, 
and the University of North Carolina — now 
possess respectable libraries, but they luive 
been mainly accumulated within the last 
forty years. Of other libraries, we can find 
no record of even one, of any importance, 
founded in this period. 

In the period between 1800 and the close 
of the war of 1812, there were five colleges 
and two theological seminaries organized, all 
of which now have libraries of considerable 
importance. To this period also belong the 
beginnings of the Boston Athonffium, nowthe 
fourth library in the country in the number 
of its volumes, the first library of Congress, 
which was destroyed by the British in 1814, 
the noble collection of the New York His- 
torical Society, and the commencement of 
the special libraries of the American An- 
tiquarian Society at Worcester, and the 
American Academy of Natural Sciences at 
Philadelphia. 

The war of 181 2 was followed by a period 
of severe financial distress, and it was not 
till about 1818 that an}' considerable efforts 
were made for the establishment of libraries. 
Between 1818 and the present time, not 
only have more than one hundred colleges 
been organized, each of which has a library 



4-24 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



of some size, and many of tbem from 10,- 
000 to i;5,000 volumes, but there have also 
been established more than twenty theo- 
logical seminaries, with considerable collec- 
tions of books ; most of the state libraries, 
beginning with the valuable State Library at 
Albany, of over 50,000 volumes, the Con- 
gressional, Astor, Smithsonian, Boston Pub- 
lic Librar}', and other free libraries; most 
of the libraries of the learned societies, and 
the extensive collections of the historical 
societies, three or four proprietary libraries 
of some note, all of the subscription libra- 
ries, known as mercantile, institute, mechan- 
ics', or apprentices' libraries, and those con- 
nected with young men's Christian associa- 
tions and with churches. Within the same 
period also, and mainly within twenty years 
past, great numbers of special libraries — 
scientific, commercial, agricultural, mining, 
humanitarian, or devoted to the promotion 
of particular departments of art or literature 
— have been founded, while in all the states 
Sunday School libraries, and in many of 
them school-district, town, and academical 
libraries have been formed. Prior to 1840, 
there were many instances in which writers 
who desired to investigate certain periods 
of history, or certain sciences or arts, were 
compelled to visit Eumpe in order to pro- 
cure from the great libraries of England or 
the continent the necessary facts. The ne- 
cessity for this is now nearly obviated. The 
great libraries of Cambridge, Boston, New 
York, Philadelphia, and Washington, though 
neither of them so complete as they should 
be, yet together furnish material for the prep- 
aration of works in most departments of sci- 
ence, literature, or art, and they are every 
year becoming more and more full in the 
topics heretofore deficient. 

The best free library in this country, and 
the largest, is the Astor Library of New 
York. It was founded by the bequest of 
$400,000 by John Jacob Astor, of which 
$75,000 was to be appropriated for the build- 
ing, $120,000 for the tirst purchase of Ixioks, 
and the remainder invested, and the interest 
applied to the management and increase of 
the library. The original building, with its 
furniture and shelving, opened in 1854, cost 
about 1120,000, the excess over $75,000 be- 
ing friim accrued interest. The $120,000 
ex])ended fur books purchased about 80,000 
volumes. The shelf-room (13,000 feet) be- 
ing likely to prove insufficient for the wants 
of the library, William B. Astor, Esq., the son 



of the founder of the library, purchased a 
lot adjoining the north side of the library, 
80 by 120 feet, and erected an additional 
building, somewhat larger than the original 
one, which he presented to the trustees. 
Mr. Astor has also, at different times, made 
considerable donations for the purchase of 
books. The present number of volumes 
in tlie library is somewhat more than 120,- 
000, nearly all acquired by purchase. In 
his long and careful bibliographical prepara- 
tion for purchasing .this library, in liis judi- 
cious selections, and careful expenditures. Dr. 
Cogswell, the librarian-in-chief, has establish- 
ed a claim to the gratitude of all scholars. 

The library of Harvard LTniversity has 
grown up since 17C4, when the original li- 
brary was destroyed by fire, by numerous 
donations of books, and, in quite a number 
of instances, of entire libraries, as well as by 
donations and bequests of money from friends. 
These donations and bequests cannot fall 
much short of $150,000, and it lias now a 
fund of $26,000, the interest of which is ap- 
plicable to the purchase of books, and the 
sum of $5000 per year, for five years from 
1859, pledged by "William Cray, Esq., to be 
applied to the same purpose. The various 
collections of books in Gore Hall (the libra- 
ry building) include not only the college li- 
brary proper, but also the society libraries, 
and the libraries of the divinity, law, and 
medical schools. The whole number of vol- 
umes is about 125,000, but the library is 
very miscellaneous in character, and incom- 
plete in certain departments. The consid- 
erable sums it now has at command for pur- 
chases are applied to make good its deficien- 
cies as far and as fast as possible. 

The Boston City Library, a free public li- 
brary, now ranks third in this country. It 
was founded in 1848, in accordance with 3 
law of Massachusetts providing for the es- 
tablishment of town libraries. Hon. Josiah 
Quincy, jr., then mayor of the cit}', gave 
$50(10 toward it; Mr. Bigelow gave $luOO; 
Mr. Everett and Mr. Winthrop, large dona- 
tions of books ; Mr. Joshua Bates, of Lon- 
don, $50,000, besides several thousand vol- 
umes ; Mr. Jonathan Phillips, $10,000 ; and 
others, smaller sums. The building, erected 
at a cost of $363,000 by the city of Boston, 
is one of the finest library rooms in the 
world. The present number of volumes is a 
little more than 100,000, and is increasing 
at the rate of 8000 volumes per annum. 
During the present year (1861) also, it will 




BOSTON CITV LIBKAKV. INTKKlult. 



LIBRARIES. 



427 



receive the fine library bequeathed to it by 
the late Tlieodore Parker, consisting of near- 
ly 18,000 volumes. 

The Boston Athenaeum ranks fourth in 
the number of its volumes, is peculiarly rich 
in the tran.sactions of learned societies, and 
has a considerable portion of General Wash- 
infjton's library. It has now about 75,000 
volumes, and has cost for its building and 
books full $300,000. Though a proprietary 
library, it is practically free to the public for 
consultation. It was founded in 1806, but 
its principal growth has been within the last 
'twenty-five years. 

' The library of Congress, which was nearly 
destroyed by fire in 1851, has since been re- 
stored and largely increased. The purchases 
being made under the direction of a com- 
mittee of the two Houses, comprising their 
most eminent scholars, are judicious, and the 
library, which contains about 65,000 vol- 
umes, is one of the best for reference and 
consultation in the eountrv. The library of 
.the House of Representatives, also in the 
Capitol, contains about 40,000 volumes. 

The Pliiladelphia Library Company and 
'Loganian (Jollection is another of the pro- 
prietary libraries which are accessible to the 
public for consulting purposes free of charge. 
Though founded 130 years ago, its growth 
^has been mainly achieved during the present 
century. In 1800, it contained only 7000 
'or 8000 volumes, while its present number is 
'about 70,000. 

The New York Mercantile Library is the 
largest of the subscription and lending libra- 
ries which are found in most of the eonsid- 
I erablc towns of the United States. It pos- 
. sesses a fine edifice in Astor Place, which cost 
nearly §240,000, and the rent of that portion 
of the building not occupied for library pur- 
poses and reading-rooms, will give it, ivhen 
its debt is liquidated, a considerable annual 
fund in addition to its receipts for member- 
ship. Its reading-room is the largest in the 
country, though the free reading-room of the 
Cooper Institute very nearly approaches it. 
Its library, though intended mainly for popu- 
lar readers rather than scholars, contains a 
very considerable collection of valuable works 
of reference. Its present number of volumes 
is about 60,000. 

The New York State Library at Albany 
is by far the largest of all the state libraries, 
and is especially valuable for its fine collec- 
tion of works on American history and on 
the natural sciences. It was founded in 



1818, but its principal increase has been 
since 1845, at which time the Warden col- 
lection of works on America was purchased 
and incorporated in the library. The late Dr. 
T. Romeyn Beck superintended it for many 
years, and to his judicious purchases it is in- 
debted for much of its value. Its present 
number of volumes is not far from 55,000. 

The library of the Smithsonian Institution 
at Washington, though not so large as some 
others, numbering little more than 35,000 
volumes, is a very valuable collection. The 
aim of Dr. Henry, the secretary of the in- 
stitution, has been to make it particularly 
full in those departments in which other li- 
braries are deficient. Its books are loaned 
to eminent scholars at a distance, when 
needed for the preparation of works of im- 
portance. For some years it received a copy 
of all copyriii'ht books in the country. 

The American Antiquarian Society at 
Worcester has an exceedingly valuable col- 
lection on American antiquities. Founded in 
1812, l>y the late Isaiah Thomas, who was for 
twenty years its president, and who gave it 
about 9000 volumes, it has now about 20,000 
volumes, manv of them unique in this country. 

The New York Historical Society, found- 
ed in 1 804, has a very valuable library of 
about 30,000 volumes, mainly confined to 
American history and literature ; a museum 
of American relics and antiquities ; a large 
picture gallery ; and has recently purchased 
the fine collection of Egyptian antiquities 
procured by the late Dr. Abbott. 

The American Academy of Natural Sci- 
ences at Philadelphia has a museum of nat- 
ural liistory of nearly 30,000 specimens, and 
a library of about 27,000 volumes, more 
complete in natural history than any other, 
and also containing a very full collection of 
the revolutionary literature of France, pre- 
sented them by Mr. William Maclure. 

Two other foundations for libraries are de- 
serving of notice; that of George Peabody, 
Esq., for the Peabody Institute at Baltimore, 
which contemplates a library in connection 
with a gallery of the fine arts, a musical 
conservatory, etc., the entire endowment 
amounting to $600,000 ; and that of the late 
David Watkinson, of Hartford, Connecticut, 
who left, in 1857, the sum of $100,000 to 
found a library of reference in connection 
with the Connecticut Historical Society, and 
also made that library his residuary legatee. 
These are the most remarkable public li- 
braries of the country. There are, according 



428 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



to the latest returns, 3 libraries containing 
over 1 00,000 voliiracs each ; 9 containing over 
50,000 volumes each; 19 containing 30,000 
volumes or more; 20 containing 25,000 vol- 
umes or more ; 41 containing over 20,000; 
and 120 containing 10,000 or more. 

The total aggregate of volumes in college, 
state, national, proprietary, subscription, free, 
and town libraries, is not far from 3,800,000, 
and is increasing with great rapidity. 

There are, besides these, in many of the 
states, school-district and academic libraries, 
containing a very large aggregate amount of 
l)ooks. In the state of Now York, the num- 
ber of volumes in the academic libraries re- 
porting to the Board of Regents exceeds 
125,000 ; and the number of volumes in the 
cornmon-school libraries exceeds 1,500,000. 
Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Connecti- 
cut, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wis- 
consin, and Iowa, also make provision for 
such libraries, and have large numbers of 
them. The latest school returns indicate 
that the number of volumes in this class of 
libraries is not fi;r from 4,000,000. 

Another class of libraries, containing in 
the aggregate a vast number of volumes, and 
in many cases works of considerable size and 
value, are the Sunday School libraries. Few 
of these contain less than 200 volumes, and 
many of them have 1000 or more. More 
than 4000 different works have been pub- 
lished for these libraries within a few years 
past by the publishing societies and private 
publishers, and large drafts are also made by 
the larger schools on English publications 
and those intended for adults. Estimating 
the number of these schools at 35,0U0, or 
about two thirds the number of churches (an 
estimate considerably below the truth), and 
the volumes in each library at 200, we have 
an aggregate of 7,000,U()U \ohiiurs cdllected 
in these hundile libraries. 

As might be expected, the rapid growth 
of public libraries has stimulated gentlemen 
of wealth and intellectual tastes to collect 
private libraries of considerable extent, and 
in many cases devoted to some specialty-. 
Perhaps the largest of these private collec- 
tions, is that of James Lenox, Esq., of New 
York, which is especially rich iu early works 
and in Bibles. 

One of the most singular is that of John 
Allan, Esq., of the same city, which con- 
tains a very considerable collection of books 
which have been interleaved and illustrated 
by the collector, with choice engravings of 



the persons or events described, often to the 
number of some hundreds in each volume. 

There are in the city of New York alone not 
less than 25 private libraries containing more 
than 10,000 volumes each, and in Boston a 
still larger number. I'hiladelphia has also 
many very choice private libraries. 

Some of these private collections are very 
complete on American local history. No- 
ticeable among these are the libraries of 
Peter Force, Esq., of Washington, D. C. ; 
George Brinley, Esq., of Hartford, Connec- 
ticut ; George W. Greene, of Providence, R. 
I. ; and Jlessrs. George Bancroft, J. C. Bre- 
voort, W. J. Davis, II. C. Murphy, William 
Menzies, and J. R. Brodhead, of New York. 
The library of Hon. Henry Barnard, at 
Hartford, Connecticut, is more complete on 
tl>e subject of education than any other in 
the country ; that of W. Parker Foulke, 
Esq., of Philadelphia, is very full on prisons 
and prison discipline, and that of S. Austin 
Allibone, Esq., of the same city, on English 
literature and criticism ; that of David N. 
Lord, of New York, on ecclesiastical and 
polemic literature; that of Profe-ssor Charles 
Anthon, of the same city, contains a fine col- 
lection of classics and works on classical liter- 
ature; that of G. W. Pratt, also of New York, 
on Oriental languages and literature; that of 
C. L. Bushnell, on numismatics; that of J. A. 
Stevens, jr., on the literature of the Middle 
Ages ; those of Messrs. W. P. Chapman and 
R. G. White, on dramatic and especially 
Shakspearian literature; that of D. W. Fiske, 
on Scandinavian literature ; that of George 
. Folsom, on history and geography ; that of 
R. M. Hunt, on architecture ; and those of 
xVrchbishop Hughes, Rev. Dr. Forbes, Rev. 
Dr. Hatfield, and Rev. Dr. Bethune, on 
theology, ecclesiastical biography, and pa- 
tristic literature. 

There are in connection with many of our 
benevolent and humane institutions special 
libraries containing a few hundred or thou- 
sand volumes devoted to the particular work 
of those institutions. Thus, the American 
Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, at Hart- 
ford, and the New York Institution for the 
Deaf and Dumb, have each a very consider- 
able collection of works on deaf mute in- 
struction ; the American Bible Society has a 
fine collection of Bibles in all languages ; 
and the American Bible Union, a valuable 
collection of works on biblical criticism and 
exegesis, procured for the use of its U'ausla- 
tors. , 



LIBUAKIES. , 429 



LIBEABLBS OF COLLEGES, THEOLOGICAL SEMINARIES, &c. 
When COLLEGES., 

founded. _ _ _ Na„.e. Location. ,f,°-,l. 



Hiryard College Cambridge, Mass ... ?! iSThM 

W illwm and Mary William.>ihurg, Va 4 SU 

\ale College New Uaven. Conn .''.'; o-.wS 



I(ji)8, 
1092, 

JS'!' lale college New Uaven, Conn q- i 

l(4b. College of New Jersey Princeton, N. J oin il 

1^49, University of Pennsylvania Philadelphia, Penn i'i^ 

I,D,, Columbia College New Yorlc City, N. Y '.'.■..■.■■.'.'.: oYm 

}'4l' J^"'™ ^'"'■•"»"'y Providence,! I oo'XXX 

Irb9, Dartmouth College Hanover, ff. H o5v,,«V 

?-=.V "^""ng'"" "fJ Lee College Le.'iiDgton, Va. 2'™ 

1,8.3, Diekinson College Carlisfe, pinn Se'oOO 

l.bl, S.John's College Annapolis,Ma . ^s'oOO 

,^0, Charleston CWlege.. ^'barlLon, S. C. ...•;.■.• i.' g'So 

i-Q„'' University of Georgia Athens, Ga is'™ 

i-Qo' JJ™P''?'> Sidney College Prince Edward's Co., Va '.". ?ao 

1.39, University of North Carolina...- Ch.'ipel Hill. N. C. . aVilm 

1,9 , University of Vermont liurlington, Vt. . ?f' m 



?-«' G™":g«'''™,V"'''-g<' Georgetown, B. C . 3S'm 

1,9.3, J\illia,nsCollege Williamsto™, Mass o„ K,0 

],9_t, Bowdoin Cjllege Brunswick, Me . 5o'!,,„) 



l,9o, Union colcge Schenectady, N. Y iSDOJ 

^i'f!' '"ntucky University Lexington,Kv s'lllXl 

IS , M.dllebnry College Middlebur}, Vt 14U)0 

if.,' University of South Carolina Columbia, S. C i^nfl 

VJ-Ti' Washington and Jefferson College Cannonsburg, Penn fs'lliio 

lm*' 0'»» Uh'^-J'Jy Athens, OhiS.. .• g'sUlJ 

}t^i' Uoj'ers'ty of East Tennessee Knoxville, Tenn s'™ 

1806, University of Nashville ^ashville, Tenn . llfX 

}tl' Mounts'. Mary's College Near Kinmettsburg, Md.. ..■.■:•.■.::•.■.::■.:: TmO 

1809, Miimi University O.xford. Ohio qfj) 

101-' Hjmilton College Clinton, N. Y iVrKin 

181,, Alleghany College Mead ville, Penn. .... ;::.' •••.• 1,? ,,0 

IRI^' University of Virginia , Charlottesville, Va . ::::::::::: »; Oi 

M20' St 'loseph s College Bardstown, Ky Ill, W 

io,V' Co by University Waterville, Me Jh'.Jm 

18}, Columbian College Washington, E.G...:..:.:.:;;. . l ! i;;::;; i;;; ••.•;: ' solg 

1S-n' An'^erst College Amherst, Mass SS.'u.O 

}lB Centre College Danville, Ky Iqm 

1S9-' I'TK i°""«fv, Hartford, Conn '. ! U'uoO 

182,, Hobart Free College Geneva, N. Y . . um 

llw' lvT°S?"''"'--r;V, G,ai,ibier, Ohio . ! Is'oOO 

i«a' JVestern Keserve College Hiulson, Ohio ilOfW 

1323, Indiana Univer.sity Bloomington, Ind ! . ... ! ! 'i ! ! i! i! ! 6,6llo 

!«?' »P':'nS JWI College Spring Uill (near MobUe), Ala 8.500 

iW:< University of .Mabama Tuscaloosa, .Ua vutM 

ill' University of New York New York City, N. Y ■.::'.'.:: a'oOO 

J3 Wesleyan University Middletown, Conn ' ' 2.5 (XIO 

IW' Pennsylvania College Gettysburg. Penn ] l8(joO 

ilii' genison University Granville, Ohio U(m 

1832, Randolph-Macon College Uoydton,'va ..■.:::: Io500 

li-f "^T" ';""?=''■ ■•; South Hanover, lud ...... ,5 WKl 

i5?o' St. Louis University St. LouU, Mo 22 ftua 

lb.32, Lafayette College Easton Pa ^'^I> 

isi' ^f'^''' '^?."^p •'•••'• crawfo^dsviiie'.ind.':.'.";.'.'.";;.".'::.".".':;:::::;:;.'; nm 

]IB Delaware College Newark. Del.. ! 1(,«0 

?iS?' Havorford College West ILaverford, Pa ^^^m 

Jo?-' Oberlin College Oberlin, Ohio 10,™ 

K?2' Marietta College Mariett.4, Ohio kS^ 

li«' M-^Kendree College Lebanon III .....:. efS 

Joo„' Franklin and Marshall College Lancaster, Penn iq mn 

1838, Alfred University Alfred NY V^i 

■Jo?-' University ofMichigan Ann .\rbor, Mich'.'.' .'.■.■.■.■.■.■.■ .'.'.'.■.■.'.■■.■ iSflm 

Jo„^' Indiana Asbnry University Greencastle, Ind In'lim 

1833, Wake Forest College Forestville, N. C V s'(m 

}o?I' Emory College Oxford, Ga Yg,^ 



?o m' l;""^ and_ Henry College '.'.'.'.'.'.'. Washington Co'.i Va 9^000 

6,'0OI) 

i34o; Mercer universiiy: ! ! !; i::! i::::;;; "i; ii; i! :! ] ; ] pe;;Serd;'Ga:.:;;;:;:;:;;;;; ^t-^ 



i9in' Sf i'^r° •^p'lt^" '.'.'.'.v.'.'.'.'.'. Mecklenburg Co., n'.c.'; i.".". i:.': ! [.'i i:." .':::;: ! e.ooo 



134ft- «!■ vfvW'.P " Georgetown. Ky lft.,»,0 

islo I' Xavier s Co lege Cincinnati, Ohio ly'ooo 

ist^' nhAr''i^°"fP-----. Wa,shington, Co.. Md . ll kJiO 

Jito' OhioWosleyan University Delaware Co., Ohio 140,10 

i^ii' Cumberland University Lebanon, Tenn s'™ 

}f,V UnjveKity of Notre Daine du Lac Notre Dame, Ind '.'. 7'-,(l^ 

Jsl-' «"V^J'"'i; ■.■■■•: Worcester. .Ma..s KftftO 

islfi' ^V'.'^nb"!! University Springfield, Ohio :.■;.■:.■;;.•;.•.• Ts « 

lS4b, Ma.lison University Hamilton, N. Y . 8 5(10 

Jofi' 5 ,, "■ ■'' College Wilmington, Del . fi ftOO 

Jtti' Co ege of St. Francis Xavier New York Citv " 



1S48 



1860, 



ih.ono 

16,,500 



isja- College of the City of New York New York, City jo ,^,„ 

1348, University of Mississippi Oxford, Miss... . 6500 

J^' If'™n" University Appleton, Wis .;:; ?'cioO 

}l^,' Rofl!f%r University Rocheste;, N. Y ....■:::.■ s'sOO 

Tnmty College. Randolph Co., N 



* Those containing less than 5,000 volumes are not noticed. 



,5110 
,8U0 



430 . EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 

"wten^ ' ~ No. of 
foUDded. Name. location. wlumes 

1851, Mount St. Mary's of the West Near Cincinnati, Ollio 10 .'UJO 

1851, College of Christian Brothers i^t. Louis, Mo S'SOO 

1852, Lombard University Galesburg, 111 ....".'.....'.'... s'oOO 

18.J3, Koanoke College Salem, Itoanoke Co., Va t'siK) 

1553, Westminster College Fulton, Mo j'jOO 

1554, Tufts College Medford, Mass .".' '.' lo'& 

1854, Knox College Gale.sbnrgh, 111 '.'..."... 6,6(10 

1855, Northwestern University Evanston, 111 .*.*.'.'.'.". S5 5C0 

1856, St. Lav?rence University Canton, N. Y "(iVyiO 

1856, Seaton Uall College South Orange, N. J ....\ .\'\.]l] .[[.'.'.[.'.'.'. .".'.['. g'oOO 

1857, Loyola College Baltimore, Md Z'lSiOO 

1857, Washington University St. Louis, Mo 6 tOll 

Santa Clara College Santa Clara, Cal .'.'.'.'..'.'.'.' II .'(JOO 

Iowa College Grinncll, Iowa 6.410 

College of the Immaculate Conception New (trlf:iiis La 6 £00 

Louisiana State University Itattm Ki.iii;e, La '.'..*'.'.!'.'.*.!'.',! '.'.".*.*. 8'4'0 

Wolford College Spiuterislnu'-h.'S. C. ..'.'.!...",".!.'.'. !.".'.'!.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.' 56(i0 

1859, Griswold College Davenport, .Iowa ". . 5!40O 

1859, St. Benedict's College Atchison, Kansas 12 000 

1860, Augustana College Genesee, III 7*500 

1861, Vassar College I'ouglikcepsie, N. Y ....."........!'!! ....... I'fM 

1862, St. Joseph's College Philadelphia, I'a 61250 

1863, Boston College Boston, Ma.ss 6.500 

1863, Manhattan College New York City .' ' 6200 

1864, Bates College Lewiston, Me 7300 

1865, Cornell University Ith.aca, N. Y 5o'.(lfl0 

1807, Howard University Washington, D. C 6,500 

THEOLOGICAL SEMIN.iRIES. 

J7S4, Theological Seminary Reformed Dutch Church New Urunswick, N. J 10 000 

1791, St. Mary's Theological Seminary Baltimore, Md '. !'.!.!'.!.'!'.!."'.!."..!!!! lo'llOO 

1808, Andover Theological Seminary Andover, .Mass ] .'.*'.*.'.'!"'"..',. 3l'000 

1812, Trinceton Theological Seminiry Princeton, N. J 21 000 

1816, Divinity School Cambridge, Mass \..\ ...[.. .[.[..\. .. I'iVlOO 

1816, Bangor Theological Seminary Bangor, .Me ".."...'.".'.'....'.*... 12000 

1817, Episcopal General Theological Seminary New York I. .^^l'.'.'.'.]'. .'.'..'.'.'.'.'...'.'.'.'.['.]'.'. .]'. 14500 

18'iO, Hamilton Theological Seminary Hamilton, N. Y .'.'.'.'.".."."..!!!!!.!."!!!!"!.' 10 000 

1S21, Auburn Theological Seminary Auburn, N. Y .".."...'....".'.'.'.'.'.".'.".'.'.'.'.'.*.'."".".' 6 OOO 

1821, South- VVestern Theological Seminary Marvsville, Tenn.. ...... .".".'.'.'.".".'.*.'.*'".'..".".' ".".'.." c'oOO 

1822, Episcopal Theological School Fairfax Co., A'a '.'. .'.'.'.'.'.'..'.".'.'.'...".'.'.'..'. 9tt00 

18'24, U nion Theological Seminary Hampden , Sidney , 'i'a ...... . . . . . . . . ..... . ....... o'oOO 

Gettysburg Theological Seminary Gettysburg, Penn ' ... 12 500 

1825, Newton Theological Institution Newton, Mass ftVo 

1825, Wittemburg Thi-oh.giral Seminary Gettysburg. Penn ................... 12500 

1825, German Rcforiiied Tlic'ijogical Seminary Mercersburg, Penn .' 8*500 

18'27, Theological Department Kenyon College Gambler, Ohio .....'. .......... 7*500 

1828, Western Theological Seminary Alleghany, Penn lo'uOO 

1828, Theological Seminary ,» . . . Columbia, S. C ISoOO 

1829, Lane Seminary Cincinnati, Ohio 13500 

18.32, ShurtlelT College Theological Department Upper Alton, HI ... 5*200 

1834, Theological Institute Hartford, Conn 7*500 

1836, Union Theological Seminary New York SlJ'OO 

1833, St. ('harles Brunning Theological Seminary. . . . Philadelphia, Penn ! 10,000 

1840, Concordia Seminary *St. Louis, Mo 5,200 

1844, Western Theological School Meadville, I'enn 9*500 

1844, St. Vincent's College Theological Department Cape Girardeau, Mo 7,000 

1844, Ohio Weslevan Semin.ary Delaware, Ohio 8,100 

1844, Seminary of St. Mary of the Lake Chicago, III 6,000 

1846, St. Vincent's College Theological Department St. \iiicent. Pa 12,i 00 

18.50, Rochester Theological Seminary Rochester, N. Y .' 13,000 

1851. Mount St. Marv's of the \Vest Near Cincinnati, Ohio 10,000 

18.S3, Danville Theological Seminary Danville, Ky 8.500 

1859, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary (ireenville, S. C 5,.500 

1859, Theological Seminary of the N. W. College Chicagorlll 8,C0O 

IS.'iO, Griswold College Theological Dep.artment Davenport. Iowa 5,-100 

1862, Episcop.al Divinity School PJliladelphia. Penn 6,500 

1865, Oberlin t^ollc^e fheologiffil Department Oberlin, Ohio 10,500 

1867, Drew Theological Seminary Madison, N. J 11,000 

MEDICAL SCHOOLS .AND HOSPITAL. 

1755, Pennsylvania Hospital Lihrars" Philadelphia, Penn 11,000 

1765, Medical Department Pennsylvania- University Philadelphia, Penn 5,0(10 

1791, New York Hospital T.ilirarv New York 8,0110 

1807, New York College of I'hvsicians and Surgeons New York 2,000 

1831, University Medical School New York 4.500 

University of Virginia Medical Department 35,000 

LAW SCHOOLS AND LIDRARIES. 

1817, Dane Law School Cambridge, Mass 14,000 

1846, New York I'tate and National Law School Poughki-ep-sie, N. Y : 3,000 

New York Ijiw Library New York Oj.lOO 

Social Ijtw Library Boston. 6,000 

J29?'] I** Associations Philadelphia, Penn 6,010 

1841, J 

1859, Michigan University Law Department Ann .\rber, Mich 3,000 



LIBRARIES. 431 



PRINCIPAL LIBRARIES OF TUB UNITED STATES, EXCLUSIVE OF TUOSE CONNECTED WITH COLLEGES, &C. 

When No. of 

founded. Name. Location. volumes. 

1853, San Francisco Mercantile Library San Francisco, Cal 25,* HO 

1838, Hartford Young Men's Institute Hartford, (Jonn i2'p35 

1839, Connecticut Historical Society do 12*0; '0 

1854, Connecticut Stiite Library do 3,'-00 

1826, New Haven Youn(^ Men's Institute New Haven, Conn 11,0(0 

1788, Wilmington Young Men's Association \\'ilmiugton, Del 6,189 

1839, Savannah Historical Society. Savannah, Ga : 7,9nO 

1831, Indiana State Library Indianapolis, Ind 26.000 

183t, Catholic Diocesan Library Vineennes, ]nd 12,( 00 

1836, Keokuk Librar>' Association Keokuk, Iowa 6,6t!0 

Dubuque Library Dubuque, Iowa 8.OI1OO 

Lexington City Library Lexington, Ky - 14,600 

18.3', Lnusiana State Library Baton Rouge, La 14,' 00 

1844, Lyceum "Library New Orleans, La 12,00^) 

Mechanics' Librarv do 15,000 

1P39, Maine State Library Augusta. Me 31,6f»3 

1S67, Skowhegan Librarv Skowhegan, Me 2.315 

18-7, Maryland St-itc Librarv Annapolis, Md 25,000 

1862, Baltimore Pcaliodv Institute Baltimore, Md 42,588 

1839, Baltimore Mercantile Library do 24,975 

1843, Maryland Historical Society do 17.010 

1847, Maryland Institute Library do 18,000 

1840, Odd Fellows' Library do 13,000 

1858, Arlington Public Library Arlington, Mass 2,105 

1867, Barnstable Sturgis Library Barnstable. Mass 1,845 

1855, Beverly Public Library Beverly, Mass 4,810 

18:9, Bolton Public Library Bolton, M.is8- 1,300 

1853, American Congregational Library Boston, Mass 10,000 

1807, Boston Athcnajum do 105,000 

1794, Boston Library do 19,800 

1791, Massachusetts Historical Society do 18,500 

1848, Mattapan Literary Association do 3,CO0 

1848, Boston Public City Library do 160,000 

I8.1O, Mercantile Library do il.OCO 

1831, Natural Hi.-torv Society do 13,000 

1864, New Church Library • do ),.3C0 

1826, Massachusetts State Library do 31,.;C0 

1857, Y'oung Men's Christian Association do. 6,610 

18'J7, North Bridgewater. North Bridgcyvatcr, Mass 2,667 

1S64, Brighton ilolton Ubrary Brighton, .Mass 6,108 

1SG7, Brookfield .Merrick Public Library Brookfield, Mass 2,247 

1857, Brookliue Pubhc Library Brooklitie, Mass 12.000 

1857, D.ana Library Cambridge, Mass 4.800 

1800, Charlestown Public Library Charlestown, Mass 10.955 

1869, Chelsea Public Library Chelsea, Mass 2,315 

Chicopee Public Library Chicopee, Mass 2,800 

Ligelovv Librarv Clinton, Mass 

I'Sl, Concord Public Library Concord, .Mass 5,984 

IS1J6, Peabody Institute Danvers, Mass 

IGIO, Deerficfd Librarv Association Deerfield, .Mass .... 2,100 

ISOl, Fall Iciver Public Libra>y Fall Kiver, Mass 6,6c3 

1859, Fitchburg Public Library ,. Fitchburg, .Mass 8,500 

1855, Framingliam Public Library Fr 'miugham. Mass 

1854, Lyceum Library Gloucester, Mass 3,000 

1855, Public Library Groton. Mass 1,665 

Public Library HarvanI, Mass 1,400 

1863, Public Library Hinsdale, Mass 2,1)00 

1862, Public Librarv Lancaster, Mass 4,500 

1861, Public Library Leicester, Mass 2,9.53 

Franklin Library Lawrence, Mass 5,400 

18.54, Pa'ilic Mills Library do. 5,600 

1S64, Public Library Leominster, Mass 4,il56 

1867, Y'nung .Men's Christian Association Lowell, Mass 

Lowell City Library do 15,121 

1850, Public Library Lunenburg. Mass 1.360 

1862, Public Library Lynn, Mass 12,812 

1866, Public Library Millbury . Mass 1,265 

1857, Public Library Natick,-Mas3 2,540 

1862, Public Library New Bedford, Mass 23,030 

1854, Free Library Ncwburyport, Mass 13 600 

1819, Public Library Newton,' Mass 1,800 

1860, Public Librarv Northampton, Mass 5 400 

1854, Pe.abody Institute Peabodv, Mass 14,300 

1862, Phillips' Free Public Library Phillipston, Mass 2.2;9 

1850, Pittsficld Mercantile Library Pittsfleld, Mass 3 500 

1.869, Public Library South Heading, Mass 3,300 

1857, Roxbury .athenaeum Library Roxbury, Mass 8,.50O 

1810, Salem Atbeneeum Library Salem, Mass 13 755 

18.54, Arms Librarv Shelburne Falls 3,4.37 

I8<!0, Public Library. Shelborn. Mass 1,500 

1857, Public Librarv ' Springfield, Mass 30,488 

1862, Jackson Library StockbriJge, Mass 4,000 

1858, Public Library Stoneham, Mass 3,400 

18.52, Public Librarv Saultborough, Mass 2,611 

1863, Goodenow Libraij South Sudbury, Mass 4,284 



432 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



When 

founded. 

19(56, 

1865, 

18'«, 

18MI, 

1 ^:",r. 

1813, 

is5a, 

1857, 
IS.!", 

n;9, 

1V,6, 
IS 0, 

m2, 

1865, 
1832, 
1^28, 
1^59, 
1S49, 
1835, 
1816, 
1S55, 
l-<54, 
PIT, 
l-'47, 
18 .8, 
1818, 

P:i3, 
1857, 
1835, 

l'i'20, 
1818, 
185!), 
18:;! I, 
1«3U, 
IS 14, 
1 411, 
]S3», 
18,8, 
H17, 
1 'Ha, 
1 563, 

18 0, 
1S4), 
l'^6^, 
1817, 

1861, 
1777, 
1812, 
1814, 
]8-il, 
1821, 
1731, 
1750, 
]8-,4, 
1821, 
1742, 
1847, 
1SII7, 
1730, 
1753, 
1S14, 
1748 
1854, 
J83II, 
1823, 
1S47, 
1815, 

1837, 
1789, 

]8U, 
18B2, 



No. of 
Toluinei'. 
. . 4,395 
. . 5,9U0 



Name. Location. 

Public Library Taunton, Mass 

Public Library AValtham, Mass 

Public Library \\ atertown. Mass 

Public Librury Way laud. Mass 4,056 

public Library Westboro, Mass 1,642 

Wcstlicld .\tlicn8eum Library Westfield, Mass 2,200 

Public l.ilinry Wcstford, Mass 1,644 

Public l.lluary »cston, Mas.s , 8,180 

Public Library Wiucliendon, Mass 1,295 

Pull lie Library AVincbester, Mass 2,2110 

Pulilic Library Wobum, Mass 3,!'44 

Public Library - Worcester, Mass 24,bll0 

American Antiquarian Society do 52,bb0 

I'ublic Library Detroit, Mich 21.510 

Young Men's Society do 11, .500 

Micbii::in State Library Lansing, Mich 32.1100 

MiMUc:ipnlH Athonieum Minneapolis, 3Iinn 2,363 

Minncsiitii Historical Society St. Paul, Minn 6,100 

St. Louis Public Library St. Louis, Mo 13,800 

St. Louis Mercantile Library Association do 34.238 

Public City Library Concord, N. II S.ljSl 

City Library Blanchester, N. II 14,200 

Port.smouth .\thewnum Library Portsmouth, N. II 10,4110 

Newark Library Association Newark, N. J 17,500 

Public Library Newton, N. J 

New York State Library Albany, N. Y 90.500 

Youns Men's Association do 12,121 

Brnciklyn Mercantile Librar? Brooklyn, N. Y 40,000 

Bult.ilo Young Men's Association Buffalo, N. Y 18.000 

Grovenor Library do 1 ,000 

Aiiprentices' Library New Y'ork City, N. Y 46,740 

Astor Library do ., 168,11 

Cooper Union do ; In,u00 

Mercantile Library do 1.54,513 

Society Library do 3'_',uM} 

New Y'ork Histoncal Society Library do 2s,nuO 

Rnehestcr Athenaeum Library Rochester, N. Y' 21,'KIO 

Trov Younn .Men's Association Troy, N. Y 18,678 

Pulilic Libr"ivry Syracuse, N. Y 9,370 

Cincinnati Public Library Cincinnati, Ohio 33,688 

Mercantile Library do 35,206 

Theological and lieligious Library do 4.500 

Ohio .School Library do 26,4' '0 

Cleveland Lilirary Association Cleveland, Ohio 11, -100 

Public Library do 2,600 

Oliio State Library Columbus, Ohio 34,000 

D.ivton Pulilic School Library Dayton , Ohio 12,000 

Portland Library Association Portland, Oreg 3,500 

Peuusylvauia State Library Ilarrisbnrg, Pa 41,0il0 

Academy of Natural Sciences Philadelphia, Pa 2*.!,.580 

Philadelphia Atheneeum do 14,51 

Mechanics' Library, do 25,IH)0 

Mercantile Library do •. 89,n(J0 

Philadelphia Library Company do 85,006 

Lot^anian Library do 

Young Men's Christian Association do 3,800 

Apprentice's Library do 22,029 

American Philosophical Society do 18,000 

Pittsburg Mercantile Library Pittsburg, Pa 10,200 

Newport Public Libriiry Newport, R. 1 6,2'.:5 

Redwood Library and Athenfeum do 18,460 

Providence Athenfeum Providence, R.I 32,444 

Sciulh c'arolina State Library Columbia, S. 13,1100 

Charleston Library Society Charleston, S C 21 ,000 

Tennessee State Library Nashville, Tenn 13,1X10 

■Vermont St.ate Library Montpelier, Vt 12.265 

■Virginia State Library Richmond, 'Va 21,000 

Milwaukee Young Men's Association Milwaukee, Wis : 12,566 

Libr.iry of Congress Washington, D. C 266,0' 10 

Library of House of Representatives do 28,(100 

Patent ( Ifflcc Library do 23,.598 

Library of State Department do 20,000 

Library of Treasury Department do 3,410 

Washington Library do 12,lXK) 

Library of Agricultural Department do.... ; 9,500 



CHAPTER XX. 

LYCEUMS, MECHANICS' INSTITUTES, TOUNG 
MEN'S INSTITUTES, ART UNIONS, ETC. 

The name of Lyceum is one of ancient 
oria;in, liavinrr been first bestowed on tlie 
place where Aristotle gave liis instructions, 
from its connection with the temple of 
Apollo Lycius. In more modern times it 



has been applied to schools where tlie phi- 
losophy of Aristotle was taught, and to in- 
stitutions in which the instruction was given 
mainly by lectures. In 1786 it was given, 
in France, to an institution of the nature of 
a luuseuin, at which daily lectures were de- 
livered b^\' La Ilarpe. This was discontinued 
in 1794, in consequence of the French Rev- 
olution. During the present century the 



LYCEUMS, MECHAKICS' INSTITUTES, YOUNG MEn's INSTITUTES, ART UNIONS, ETC. 433 



name has been applied in France to collegi- 
ate schools answering very nearly to our col- 
leges or public high schools. 

The Conservatory of Arts and Trades at 
Paris, organized in 1T96, by Vaucanson, is 
an example of the higher class of lyceum in 
its more extended sense. It has thirteen 
galleries of materials and machines, and 
courses of lectures, scientific and practical, 
which are largely attended during the win- 
ter by the working classes. 

The origination of the lyceum as a means 
of mutual instruction in this country is due, 
in the first instance, to Benjamin Franklin. 
His " club for mutual improvement" was 
founded in Philadelphia in 1727, and after 
forty years' existence became the basis of 
the American Philosophical Society, one of 
the highest scientific societies on this conti- 
nent. There may have been, and probably 
were, other societies for mutual improve- 
ment organized in different towns and cities 
of the country, during the hundred years 
that followed the organization of Franklin's 
club ; but there are no records of any such 
in the possession of the public, previous to 
1824, when Timothy Claxton, an Englisli 
mechanic, succeeded in founding one, or 
rather in modifying a reading society, whicli 
had been in existence for five years, into 
what was really a lyceum, in the village of 
Metlmen, Mass. Its exercises were weekly, 
and in the following order : the first week, 
reading by all the members ; the second 
week, reading by one member selected for 
the purpose ; the tliird week, an original 
lecture; the fourth week, discussion. In 
1826, Mr. Josiah llolbrook, then of Derby, 
Ccmn., communicated to the American Jour- 
nal of Education, then conducted by Mr. 
^^'illiam Russell, his views on the subject of 
" Associations of Adults for the Purpose of 
Mutual Education" in which were contain- 
ed the germs of the plan of the Lijceum, as 
subsequently developed by him in his lect- 
ures and publications. From the first, his 
views were of wider scope than the organiza- 
tion of a mere local association ; they com- 
prehended the establishment of such associ- 
ations in every town and village, and their 
union, by representation, in county, state, 
and national organizations. They contem- 
plated also, not only mutual instruction in 
the sciences, but the establijhment of insti- 
tutions for the education of youth in science, 
art, and morals; the collection of libraries, 
and of cabinets of minerals and other arti- 
26 * 



cles of natural or artificial production, to be 
increased and enlarged by mutual exchanges, 
by the different associations. Lectures and 
practical agricultural occupation, the results 
of which, it was supposed, would materially 
diminish the cost of instruction, also formed 
a part of his programme. 

The first association formed in accordance 
with this plan was organized at Millbury, 
Mass., by Mr. llolbrook himself, in Novem- 
ber of the same year, and was called " Mill- 
bury Lyceum, No. 1, Branch of the Amer- 
ican Lyceum." Other towns soon after or- 
ganized lyceums, and these were combined a 
few months later iiito the Worcester County 
Lyceum. Not long after, the Windham 
County, Conn., Lyceum, with its constituent 
town lyceums, was established ; Rev. Samuel 
J. May, then of Brooklyn, Conn., rendering 
valuable assistance in the work. 

From this time onward to his death in 
1854, Mr. llolbrook devoted his whole ener- 
gies in one way and another to the promo- 
tion of these institutions, and to such meas- 
ures in coimection with the cause of educa- 
tion as should promote mutual instruction 
in children as well as adults. Bv scientific 
tracts, by newspapers and other publications, 
by the manufacture of school apparatus, and 
by the collection of small cabinets of miner- 
als, to serve as nuclei for larger cabinets, by 
scholars' fairs, by lectures, and long journeys, 
and by appeals to the members of Congress 
and of the state legislatures, he succeeded in 
rousing a powerful and continued interest in 
the suliject of nmtual instruction, which, if 
it did not accomplish all his own plans, at 
least gave a wonderful impulse to the general 
intellectual culture of the nation. The ly- 
ceums he fV)unded have passed, away, at least 
in their original form, but in their places, and 
in a great measure as an indirect result of his 
labors, we have in every considerable town 
or village debating societies, young men's in- 
stitutes, mechanics' institutes, library associ- 
ations — the three latter often with circulat- 
ing libraries, courses of lectures, and classes 
for instruction in science, art, and languages, 
and often with schools attached for the in- 
struction of the children of the members. 
We have also lecture foundations, either 
connected with our colleges or professional 
schools, or independent, in which courses of 
instruction in physical science, history, liter- 
ature, or the laws of language, are communi- 
cated to popular audiences. 

In rendering the scientific lecture a popu- 



434 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



lar institution, our country is greatly indebt- 
ed to the late John Griscom, LL.D., Prof. B. 
Silliman, Sr., and Rev. Henry Wilbur. Dr. 
Griscom delivered his first course of popular 
lectures on chemistry in New York city in 
the winter of 1808; they were largely at- 
tended, and were continued for a long scries 
of years. Prof. Silliman commenced popu- 
lar lecturing on the same subject in New 
Haven about the same time, in connection 
with his professional courses. He subse- 
quently delivered popular courses of lectures 
on chemistry and on geology in most of the 
large cities of the country. Within the last 
fifteen or twenty years. Prof. Edward Hitch- 
cock, of Amherst College, and several other 
eminent geologists, have given courses on 
geology to popular audiences. Prof. Guyot 
has lectured on physical geography; Messrs. 
Mann, Barnard, Page and others, on educa- 
tional topics; Hon. George P. Marsh on 
language ; Professor Lieber and others on 
commerce, and other prominent scholars 
on other subjects. The Lowell Institute at 
Boston, founded by the munificence of the 
Hon. J. A. Lowell, gives annually free courses 
of lectures to large audiences on the most 
important branches of moral, intellectual, and 
physical science, and from the liberality of 
its compensation to the lecturers, induces 
elaborate and conscientious preparation on 
their part, and the benefit of this preparation 
inures also to other audiences, to which these 
lectures arc repeated. It has unfortunatel}' 
been the custom for a few years past of the 
young men's institutes, mercantile library 
associations, and other institutions giving 
courses of lectures through the winter sea- 
son, to select lecturers who would amuse 
rather than instruct their audiences, and 
hence this mode of public instruction has 
become gradually less and less efficient, and 
the chief advantages resulting from these in- 
stitutions have been the use of their circu- 
lating libraries, and their classes of instruc- 
tion and debate. A revolution, however, is 
now gradually taking place in this respect; 
lectures on physical science are more fre- 
quently incorporated in the courses, and the 
highest talent is employed in the illustration 
of these sciences. The lectures of Profes- 
sors Doremus, Draper, and Silliman, jr., on 
chemistry; of Mitchel, Youmans, and Loom- 
is on astronomy, and of Agassiz, Ilenr)-, and 
others on geology, have uniformly attracted 
large audiences, and have led to the study 
of these sciences. 



The Smithsonian Institution, which com- 
bines some of the features of the lyceum, in 
its public lectures, classes, and museum, with 
its other objects, will be spoken of at length 
in another place. Its influence in promoting 
scientific research has been widely felt. 

One of the noblest enterprises connected 
with this class of institutions is the Cooper 
LTnion of New York city. The founder with 
princely liberality has erected an immense 
building, occupying an entire block, of the 
most substantial character. A portion of 
this building is rented, and the proceeds of 
the rental go to sustain a free reading-room 
as extensive as any in the country, a picture 
gallery, a library, schools of design for male 
and female pupils, and classes for instruction 
in sciences, the mechanic arts, and languages, 
all of which have rooms and instruction free, 
under the most competent teachers. Courses 
of lectures on scientific subjects for the work- 
ing classes also form a part of the plan of Mr. 
Cooper. 

Mr. George Pealiody has also made a most 
liberal endowment, amounting in all to about 
1600,000, for an institution at Baltimore, to 
include a public library, courses of lectures 
on science, art, and literature, prizes for schol- 
arship in the high schools, an academy of 
music, and a gallery of art. 

The number of institutions coming under 
the general head of lycenras in the United 
States, is very great ; throughout the North- 
ern states every city and every considerable 
town has some organization of the kind, all 
of them having their courses of lectures, and 
most of them debates, essa3's, readings, or 
classes of instructiim. To them is attribu- 
table in no inconsiderable degree the very 
general prevalence of oratorical talent in our 
countiy, and that ability for impromptu argu- 
ment and discussion, the foculty of " thinking 
on our legs," as an English writer not inapt- 
ly terms it. While much of the instruction 
communicated by lectures must necessarily 
be superficial, and is often wanting in accu- 
racj', it cannot be denied that they have con- 
tributed much to the diffusion of general in- 
formation and culture. 



CHAPTER XXi, 

INSTITUTIONS FOR THE INSTRUCTION OP 
THE DEAF AND DUMB. 

The capacity of the deaf-mute to receive 
instruction was not generally acknowledged 



INSTITUTIONS FOR THE INSTRUCTION OF THE DEAF AND DUMB. 



435 



anywhere till the latter part of the last cen- 
tur}'. Individual instances of education of 
those laboring under this infirmity had in- 
deed occurred as early as the middle of the 
16th century, and perhaps even at a still 
earlier date, but no considerable attempts 
had been made to instruct them previous 
to the efforts of Pereira, Heinicke, De 
I'Epee, and Braidwood, all of whom taught 
deaf and dumb pupils, between 1742 and 
1760. Of these, Heinicke and De I'Epee 
alone are deserving of the honor of being 
reckoned the founders of a great philan- 
thropic movement. The former attempted 
the instruction of deaf-mutes by teaching 
them to articulate ; the latter by the manual 
alphabet, and a development of the natural 
language of signs. De I'Epee' s processes 
were greatly improved by the Abbe Sicard, 
and Bebian, a pupil of Sicard. 

Deaf-mute instruction was not attempted 
in this country till about the year 1S16. 
In a few instances children of wealthy 
parents, suffering under this infirmit}', had 
been sent to England for instruction by the 
Braidwoods, father and sons, who held in 
their own family the monopoly of deaf- 
mute teaching, though adopting substan- 
tially the processes of Heinicke, and who 
charged a very high price for the education 
of each pupil. The father of one of these 
American pupils, in a work entitled " Vox 
oeulis suhjecta" published in 1783, lauded 
in high terms the instruction of the Messrs. 
Braidwood. 

In 1814, Rev. Thomas H. Gallaudet, a 
young clergyman of Hartford, Conn., be- 
came deeply interested in the case of Alice 
Cogswell, the little daughter of Dr. M. F. 
Cogswell, a neighbor of his, who had lost 
her hearing in infancy, and having devoted 
much thought and investigation to the sub- 
ject of the number and condition of the 
deaf-mutes of that state, was desirous of 
doing something for their education. Dr. 
Cogswell and other benevolent gentlemen 
in Hartford furnished the means of send- 
ing him to England, to learn the art of 
teaching deaf-mutes, and he sailed from 
New York for Liverpool, May 25, 1815. 
Arrived in England he found the elder 
Braidwood dead, and the mother, sons, and 
other relatives, who had now established 
three schools, unwilling to enlighten him as 
to their processes, unless he would pay 
1500 dollars, remain a year as an assistant 
in one of their schools, and take the grand- 



son of the first Braidwood, a drunken vaga- 
bond, as a partner in the institution to be 
established in America. Rejecting these 
terms, as unworthy of the pioneers in a 
great benevolent enterprise, Mr. Gallaudet 
had almost determined to return home, 
when he met the Abbe Sicard in London, 
and was most cordially invited by him to 
come to Paris and acquire his methods of 
teaching, receiving from him the necessary 
private instructions to enable him to accom- 
plish this object more- rapidly. This gen- 
erous oftcr was promjjtly accepted by Mr. 
Gallaudet, and after three months of close 
application he returned to America, bring- 
ing with him M. Laurent Clerc, an educated 
deaf-mute, and one of Sicard's most success- 
ful teachers. It was now determined to es- 
tablish a school for deaf-mute instruction, as 
soon as the necessary funds could be obtain- 
ed. For this purpose, Messrs. Gallaudet and 
Clerc travelled extensively through the East- 
ern and Middle states, everywhere receiving a 
warm welcome. In the spring of 1817, about 
$12,000 had been contributed and pledged, 
to which the Connecticut legislature subse- 
quently added §5000 more.* 

The school was opened in reuted buildings, 
April 15, 1817, having been chartered in 
May, 1810, by the legislature under the name 
of " The Connecticut Asylum for the Deaf 
and Diunb." An application was made to 
Congress for a grant, as it was supposed, in 
the general ignorance concerning the num- 
ber of deaf-mutes, that one asylum would be 
sufficient fur the whole country, and that 
body donated a township of land in Ala- 
bama, which, under wise and careful man- 
agement, has produced a fund of over $300,- 
000, the interest of which is applied to the 
reduction of the annual expenses of the in- 
stitution, and enables the directors to fur- 
nish board and tuition to their pupils at the 
low price of $100 per annum. After the 
reception of this grant, the name of the in- 
stitution was changed to " The American 
Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb." 

Thomas Braidwood, the grandson of the 
founder of the first English school for deaf- 
mutes, to whom we have already referred, 
had come to Virginia as early as 1811, and 
had attempted to establish there a school 
for the deaf and dumb, but his habits were 



* This sum was a few years later expended by 
the Asylum in tlie education of indigent deaf-mutea 
natives of Connecticut. 



436 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



sucli that all the assistance offered him was 
of no avail, and after a time he returned to 
England ; Mr. Gallaudet's efforts incited the 
family to make another trial, but he was so 
thoroughly a vagabond, that it again proved 
unsuccessful. M. Gard, a teacher of deaf- 
mutes at Bordeaux, and himself a deaf-mute, 
also offered to come to New York, in 1816, 
and establish an institution there, on the 
plan of Sicard, but the project fell through. 

Meantime, philanthropic persons in New 
York city were desirous of establishing an 
institution for the benefit of the deaf-umtes 
of the city and state, and an act of incor- 
poration for such an institution was passed 
on the 15th of April, 1817, the same day 
that the school at Hartford was opened. 
Among the most active promoters of this 
enterprise were Dr. Samuel Akerly, Dr. 
Samuel L. Mitchill, De Witt Clinton, Sil- 
vanus Miller, Peter Sharpe, and Rev. James 
Milnor, D.D. 

The course of the American Asylum at 
Hartford was prosperous from the first. Mr. 
Gallaudet was a man of genius, and pos- 
sessed the ability t(3 originate and carry into 
effect new methods of instruction, and to 
modify the processes in use in the French 
schools. In these measures lie was efficient- 
ly seconded by M. Clerc, and by a corps of 
young but able teachers whom he had gath- 
ered around him, and imbued with his spirit. 
Prominent among these teachers were Messrs. 
William C. Woodbridge, Lewis Weld, Har- 
voy P. Pcct, Isaac Orr, and William W. 
Turner 

The New York Asylum had adverse for- 
tunes to contend with at first. It was open- 
ed in May, 1818. Its first principal was 
Rev. A. O. Stansbury, who had been for a 
few months previous the steward of the 
American Asylum, and was but imperfectly 
qualified for his duties ; the greater part of 
the pupils were day scholars, and attended 
irregulai'ly ; the assistant teachers were half- 
educated deaf-mutes ; an attempt was made 
to teach articulation, but it proved a failure. 
Mr. Loofborrow, wdio succeeded Mr. Stans- 
bury in 1821, possessed intelligence and en- 
ergy, but he had few competent assistants, 
and the state legislature which had made ap- 
propriations for the support of deaf-mute 
pujiiis, was becoming dissatisfied with the 
condition of the institution, as compared 
with those at Hartford and Philadelphia. 
In 1830, an entire change was effected. The 
asylum was located on Fiftieth street, where 



buildings were erected for it ; day scholars 
were no longer admitted ; the inefficient 
teachers were dismissed, and Mr. Harvey P. 
Peet, then one of the ablest of the teachers 
in the American Asylum, elected principal. 
Mr. Peet entered upon his duties in Febru- 
ary, 1831, and though at first compelled to 
perform all classes of duties, his genius, 
tact, and indefatigable labor soon brought 
order out of chaos, and enabled him to 
place the institution in the very first rank. 
In 1853, the property of the institution on 
Fiftieth street was sold, the buildings being 
too small f )r the accommodation of their 
pupils, and being subject to encroachment 
from the rapid increase of population in 
their vicinity. A new location, comprising 
37 acres, was purchased on Washington 
Heights, about nine miles from the City 
Hall, and overlooking the Hudson river. 
On this site a magnificent building has been 
erected, much the finest and most perfect in 
its arrangements of any asylum for deaf- 
mutes in the world. It has cost, including 
the grounds, nearly $600,000, and will ac- 
commodate about 500 pupils. Mr. (now 
Dr.) Peet is still at the head of it, and his 
eldest son, Mr. Isaac Lewis Peet, is the effi- 
cient vice principal. 

The Pennsylvania Institution was fonnded 
at Philadelphia in 1820, by David Seixas 
and Mr. Lewis Weld, one of the teachers at 
the American Asylum, became its principal 
in 1822. In 1830, Mr. Gallaudet resigned 
the charge of the American Asylum, and Mr. 
Weld was elected his successor, and was fol- 
lowed at Philadelphia by Mr. Abraham B. 
Button, who had been one of the teachers of 
the institution. This school has enjoyed 
continuous prosperity. The Kentucky School 
is located at Danville, and was fonnded in 
1823. Mr. J. A. Jacobs, who is still at its 
head, was its first, and has been its only prin- 
cipal. He, too, had previously been a 
teacher at the American Asylum. It has 
a moderate endowment arising from the sale 
of lands granted to it by Congress. The 
Ohio Institution was established in 1829, 
and has had three principals — Messrs. Hub- 
bell, Cary, and Stone. The first and last 
were from Hartford, the second from the 
New York Institution. The Virginia Insti- 
tution, organized at Staunton, was the first 
in this country which combined the instruc- 
tion of deaf-mutes and the blind in one in- 
stitution. Such a combination is not un- 
common in Europe, and five other asylums 



ALPHABET OF THE DEAF AND DUMB. 

bed e 












1 m 












u V 








& 





INSTITUTIONS FOR THE INSTRUCTION OF THE DEAF AND DUMB. 



437 




AMERICAN ASTLDM FOB DEAF AND DOITE, HARTFOED, CONN. 



have followed tlie example in tliis country. 
Tlie best authorities, however, regard the 
plan as objectionable in many respects. 

The other institutions for the instruction 
of deaf-mutes (there are in all twenty -three) 
have been organized since 1844. Most of 
them are state institutions, and though gen- 
erally well managed, partisan politics have, 
in some instances, materially impaired their 
efficiency and usefulness. 

Provision has been made, in nearly all the 
states, for the education of the indigent deaf 
and dumb, so that no person of suitable 
age, suffering from this infirmity, need go 
uninstructed, if they, or their friends, will 
apply to the state authorities ; yet of the 
nearly 3000 deaf-mutes of school age in the 
United States, but about 2000 are under 
instruction. The greatest deficiency, how- 
ever, is in the new states, and will be reme- 
died in the course of a few years. 

The term of instruction varies from six to 
ten years. Seven years is the usual term in 
most of the states; but in the American 
Asylum, the New York Institution, and, we 
believe, the Pennsylvania Institution, a high 
class has been established, into which those 
who give evidence of superior abilities, and 
desire for higher scholarship, are admitted 
by examination, and pursue an additional 
course of three years. The course of study, 
including this period of three years, em- 



braces the topics of a very thorough Eng- 
lish and mathematical education. Other lan- 
guages than English are not usually taught. 
From these classes most of the deaf-mute 
teachers are now drawn. 

The intellectual and moral condition of 
uninstructed deaf-mutes is one of extreme, 
almost rayless ignorance. Careful inquiry in 
some thousands of cases has demonstrated 
that, unless communicated by friends versed 
to some extent in the language of signs, 
they have no idea of a Supreme Being, of 
the origin of the objects of nature, of their 
own possession of a soul, of death, or a 
future existence. The mind is almost a 
blank, and the few thoughts they 'possess 
are merely such as concern their food, drink, 
and rest, and the objects with which they 
are constantly brought in contact. It is ob- 
vious, then, that the mental condition of a 
child of ten or twelve years of age, deaf from 
birth, and consequently dumb, is below that 
of a child of three years who can hear and 
speak. The child who possesses all its fac- 
ulties has, before entering school, acquired 
a very considerable fund of ideas, and the 
words for their intelligent expression ; so 
that the teacher has comparatively little oc- 
casion to communicate ideas to him, except 
on topics connected with his studies, and 
these he can clothe in words which the child 
already understands. 



438 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



Ill the case of tile deaf-mute, on tlie other 
Land ideas, even on many common and 
simple subjects, must be first communicated 
to him, and that not in words, for as yet 
these are entirely incomprehensible, but in 
the language of pantomime and gesture. 
He is next to be made to comprehend the 
laws of construction and connect words, 
either written, or spelled by the manual al- 
phabet, with the ideas already acquired (a 
long and painful process,) and then, through 
the two media of words and signs, to be 
taui^ht the elements of science. 

The system of Heinicke and the Braid- 
woods, a system still, with some modifica- 
tions, taught in Germany and some other 
European countries, had for its basis the 
dogma that ideas could only be expressed 
or communicated by means of words; and 
hence with great difficulty and pains, even 
in the flexible German tongue, the deaf-mute 
was taught to articulate words, whose mean- 
ings he did not understand, and then, as step 
by step he connected ideas with the simplest 
of them, these were made the means of con- 
veying to him the meaning of those more 
abstract and difficult. In this way three or 
four years were consumed before the pupil 
was prepared to acquire the facts of sci- 
ence, or the knowledge of his moral' obli- 
gations. 

The plan of De I'Ept^e, modified by Si- 
card and Bebian, had little in common with 
that of Heinicke. Their fundamental prin- 
ciple was, that "words have no natural or 
necessary connection with the ideas of which 
they are the signs, and that in the natural 
language of signs or pantomime, improved 
and enlarged as it can be, there is a com- 
plete substitute for them." No attempt was 
made at teaching articulation, but words 
were taught by means of signs, and these 
once acquired, were made the medium of 
further instruction by ordinary text-books. 
In order to teach words more re;idily, M. 
Sicard introduced what he denominated 
methodical sit/ns, that is, a peculiar gesture 
for each word, which the pupil was taught. 
It is obvious that if the vocabulary of the 
deaf-mute was to be as large as that of ordi- 
nary intelligent speaking persons, the num- 
ber of these arbitrary signs (for it is to be un- 
derstood that these diflered almost as much 
from the ordinary signs as the latter from 
words, the natural signs representing ideas, 
and the methodical signs single words) must 
be very great, some thousands at least, and 



to retain them in memory was a very fa- 
tiguing task for both pupil and teacher. 

The American system of instruction of 
deaf-mutes differs materially from both the 
preceding, and this difference originated 
partly with Mr. Gallaudet and the teachers 
trained up under him, and is partly the re- 
sult of the experience and observation of the 
eminent teachers who have been, and still 
are, engaged in deaf-mute instruction. 

In establishing the American Asylum, 
Mr. Gallaudet combined the principle of 
Heinicke, of the connection of ideas with 
words, with that of De I'Epee, that the nat- 
ural language of signs must be elevated to as 
high a degree of excellence as possible in or- 
der to serve as the medium for giving the 
ideas clearly and explaining them accurately; 
but he added to these another which had nev- 
er before been applied to deaf-mute instruc- 
tion, viz., that the process of learning words 
might be greatly facilitated by leading the 
pupils to reflect on their own sensations, 
ideas, and mental processes. With the earli- 
est lessons he imparted in the names of sensi- 
ble objects, he was accustomed to endeavor to 
open communication with them, by means of 
the sign-language, in regard to the feelings and 
emotions excited by these objects, and, if 
possible, to connect them with something in 
the pupil's past experience. From this, the 
deaf-mute was naturally led on to think of 
the feelings and emotions of others, thence, 
by a natural transition, to the idea of God as 
a Creator and benefactor, and finally to a 
knowledge of his law, and the final destiny 
of man. The result of this has been that 
pupils in this country (for this plan has been 
generally adopted in our American institu- 
tions) are made acquainted with the simple 
truths of religion and morality in one year, a 
period in which, in the European institutions, 
they have scarcely advanced beyond the 
knowledge of sounds and the names of sen- 
sible objects, qualities, and actions, or the 
most common phrases. Apart from the high 
religious importance of this process, it brings 
moral motives to bear earlier, and renders 
the government of the pu])ils easier, while it 
aids them in the formation of correct habits. 
The conducting of the daily and weekly de- 
votional exercises in the sign-language was 
another peculiarity introduced by Mr. Gallau- 
det. 

Methodical signs were used to a consider- 
able extent by Mr. Gallaudet and the earlier 
instrnctors of American institutions, but were 



INSTITUTIONS FOR THE INSTra'CTION OF THE BLIND. 



439 



not regarded as so indispensable by them as 
by the French teachers. Of late years they 
arc less employed than formerly, and arc 
made to indicate phrases rather than words, 
while the manual alphabet is regarded as of 
more value in teaching than it was thirty 
years ago. An advance has also been made, 
of great importance, by the introduction, 
by Mr. I. Lewis Peet, of the New York 
Institution, of manual and written symbols 
for those ultimate constituents of the sen- 
tence which form so considerable a portion 
of spoken and written language. By this 
means written language is taught with much 
greater facility than formerly. The establish- 
ment of high classes has also been an impor- 
tant step in the progress of deaf-mute educa- 
tion, furnishing, as it does, the deaf and dumb 
llif opportunity of attaining to as high intel- 
lirtual culture as those enjoy who are in the 
]>c>ssossion of all their faculties. 

In 1850, the number of deaf-mutes in the 
iUnited States was 9803, or one in 2345. 

Some of the educated deaf and dumb in 
this country have attained to considerable 
distinction. Laurent Clerc, the companion 
of Gallaudet, belongs by his birth and educa- 
tion rather to France than America, yet he 
has passed more than forty years in this 
country, and though now retired in a health- 
ful and happy old age, from active duty, is 
deservedly esteemed and honored. Thomas 
Brown, the President of the American Asso- 
ciation of Deaf-Mutes, is a vigorous and able 
writer, as are also John T. Burnett and James 
Nark. The latter has distinguished himself 
as a poet of no mean ability, and the former 
has lieen a frequent and welcome contributor 
to several of our ablest reviews. Mrs. ftLiry 
Toles Peet, the wife of the accomplished 
vice principal of the New York Listitution, 
though young, is entitled to a very high rank 
among the most gifted of our female poets. 
Colonel David M. I'hiliips, of New Orleans, 
in spite of his infirmity, was for many years 
one of the most accomplished military otHcers 
of the South. John Carlin, as an artist, and 
Albert Newsam, as an engraver, have few su- 
periors in their respective professions. The 
monument to Mr. Gallaudet, designed by the 
former and engraved by the latter, is one of 
the most admirable and appropriate monu- 
mental structures. Mr. Levi S. Backus was 
for several years the able and successful man- 
ager of a periodical in central New York. 

We present a table of the deaf and dumb 
institutions of the country, with their statis- 



tics to the present year (1860). There is 
also a deaf-mute institution in California, 
and one erectintj at Faribault, Minnesota. 



CHAPTER XXIL 

INSTITUTIONS FOR THE INSTRUCTION OP 
THE BLIND. 

The instruction of the blind had never 
been attempted on any considerable scale, in 
anv part of the world, till Valentin Haii}', in 
1 784, commenced in Paris, France, his school 
for blind pupils. Individuals who were blind 
had indeed educated themselves bj' the as- 
sistance of friends; but the great majority of 
those who suffered from this afHiction were 
left to a life of dependence and depression, 
and often became beggars. The efforts of 
Ilaii}', and his invention of an embossed al- 
phabet, to enable the blind to read, led to 
the foundation of a school for the blind, sup- 
ported by the French government, in 1791, 
and to the organization of similar schools in 
England, Prussia, Austria, and Russia about 
the same period. In these schools, reading 
and music, and some of the simpler mechanic 
arts, such as knitting, mat-weaving, basket- 
making, etc., were taught. 

The first attempts to establish schools for 
the blind in this country were made about 
1830. Dr. J. D. Fisher, in 1829, obtained 
an act of incorporation for an institution for 
the instruction of the blind from the Massa- 
chusetts legislature, and in 1831 Dr. Samuel 
Akerley and Mr. Sanmel Wood, a benevo- 
lent merchant in New York, in conjunction 
with some other gentlemen, made an appli- 
cation to the New York legislature for a sim- 
ilar act, which was granted. Soon after this 
movement was made, Dr. John D. Russ, who 
had just returned from a mission to Greece, 
whither he had borne the contributions of 
American citizens to the suffering Greeks, 
and who on his way home had visited some 
of the European blind institutions, identified, 
himself with it, and eventually became the 
])rincipal of the school for the blind in New 
York city, which was established in 1832, 
under the charter already named. 

In Boston, Dr. Samuel G. Howe, who had 
also been actively engaged in the cause of 
the Greeks, and who, like Dr. Russ, had 
visited the European institutions for the 
blind, entered with great zeal upon the work 
of establishing a school for their instruction, 



440 



EOrCATIOS AN'D EDUCATIONAL INSTITUT'ONS. 












■Cfr- 




^■R- 4lr^ 



'W?f^i^:m^ 



PENNSYLVANIA ASYLUM FOK THE BLIND. 



and made a beginning, we believe, under Dr. 
Fisher's charter, in 1832. The liberal gift, 
by Colonel T. H. Perkins, of his valuable 
mansion house in Pearl street, Boston, to 
this school, on condition of the raising of 
S50,00u by the public, soon secured to the 
institution a liberal endowment. 

The year succeeding, an institution for the 
blind was established in Philadelphia through 
the efforts of Messrs. Roberts, Vaux, and 
others, at the head of which was placed an 
intelligent and philanthropic Prussian, Mr. 
Julius Friedlander, who had been engaged 
in teaching the blind at Berlin, under the 
celebrated Zeune. 

The first efforts of the American instruct- 
ors of the blind were devoted to the improve- 
ment of the alphabet of raised letters, used in 
printing for the blind, with a view to the prep- 
aration of books for them. There were con- 
siderable difficulties to be overcome in the 
accomplishment of this work ; the letters 
must have salient angles ; each letter must 
differ sufficiently from every other to be 
easilv recognized by the touch ; yet the size 
of the letters must be small, or the books 
printed for the blind would be too cumbrous 
and expensi\e. The forms of letters used in 
Europe did not answer these re(inirements 
satisfactorily. Ilaiiy's type, if well embossed, 
cpuld be read with tolerable facility, but it 



was much too largo, and its si.-e conld not 
be reduced without impairing its legibility; 
Guillie's was not legible at all ; Gall's varied 
too much from the ordinary form of letter to 
be desirable, and the other attem]its at nnit- 
ing the requisite qualities failed. Each of the 
three American superintendents devoted his 
leisure to the work. Mr. Frieillander devised 
an al]_ihabet, known in England as the AUston 
or Sans-serif Alphabet, neat in form and eas- 
ily read, but somewhat too large. Dr. Russ 
invented one combining the advantages of 
Gall's triangular alphabet with the Illjrian 
letter, and with characters to make it pho- 
netic, but it was somewhat defective in legi- 
bility; and Dr. Howe, after repeated trials, 
constructed what is now known as the Bos- 
ton letter, which in size, distinctness, and leg- 
ibility so far surpassed every previous effort, 
that it has now come into general use in Eu- 
rope and America. Two other subjects in- 
terested these American pioneers in the work 
of instructing the blind : the recognition by 
the state legislatures of the right t>f blind 
youth to the advantages of an educatiiin, and 
the extension of the course of study so far as 
to rrive their pupils a good English education, 
instructing them, at the same time, in such 
mechanic arts as might enable them to sup- 
port themselves after leaving the institution. 
At the time of the organization of these- 



INSTITUTIONS FOR THE INSTRUCTION OF THE BLIND. 



441 



schools, the institutions for the blind in 
Great Britain, and most of those on the con- 
tinent of Europe, taught nothing but reading 
and the mechanic arts, except in the case of 
th(jse who possessed musical talents, who re- 
ceived such instructions in music as would 
enable them to play upon the piano or organ, 
and to sing ; but the ordinary branches of 
elementary education were entirely neglected. 
The American superintendents determined 
that their pu|nls should receive a good com- 
mon-school education, and if possible some- 
thing beyond this, and they have succeeded. 
The period of instruction varies in the insti- 
tutions for the blind in the United States 
from five to eight years. In the larger and 
ohlor institutions it is usually eight years, 
and includes a course of mathematics and 
belles-lettres as extensive as that in most of 
the colleges in the country, and a thorough 
course of musical traiiung, both vocal and 
instrumental. The languages are not usual- 
ly taught. There are now twenty-four of 
these institutions in the United States. The 
Ohio Institution at Columbus was founded 
in ls:H7, and tliat of Virginia at Staunton in 
18:19 ; the others have all been organized since 
184-2. To all these establishments there are 
attached work-rooms, in which the pupils are 
employed in the manufacture of mattresses, 
mats, baskets, paper boxes, brooms, brushes, 
or the simpler articles of cabinet work. 

To many of the blind, music furnishes 
not only a recreation but a means of sup- 
port. Their ear, long trained to the dis- 
crimination of sounds, and their touch, ren- 
dered delicate by the acquisition of the art 
of reading, give them peculiar facilities for 
the attainment of musical skill ; and the con- 
centration of their minds upon it, undis- 
turbed by observation of what is passing 
around them, adds to their advantages. It 
is not, therefore, remarkable, that many of 
them should have attained to great eminence 
in musical science. The Pennsylvania In- 
stitution has been specially remarkable for 
the musical attainments of its pupils. Its 
weekly concerts are attended by from 1200 
to 1500 of the music-loving inhabitants of 
that city, and the receipts from these con- 
certs furnish a liberal fund to aid the poorer 
graduates in commencing an independent 
life. Many of these pupils find speedy and 
remunerative employment as organists, choir 
singers, members of orchestras or bands, or 
piano-teachers and tuners. 

The great cost of printing books for the 



blind has rendered the supply scanty and 
the number of books small. The American 
Bible Society has printed an edition of the 
Scriptures in the Boston letter, and grants 
are made from time to time to institutions 
for the blind. The American Tract Society 
has also printed a few of its smaller books 
in the same letter. Aside from these, there 
are not more than fifty works printed for 
the blind in England and America, except a 
few in arbitrary characters, which of course 
are of no general value. Among these fifty 
is a cyclopedia to be completed in twenty 
volumes, but of which only eight or nine 
have yet been issued. Repeated applica- 
tions have been made to the general gcnern- 
ment to make an appropriation either of 
money or lands, to furnish a fund for the es- 
tablishment of a press for the blind, but the 
bills reported have always been defeated. 
Within the past year a " Printing Ilouse for 
the Blind" has been established at Louis- 
ville, Kentucky, endowed iu part by pri- 
vate benefactions, and in part by appropria- 
tions from the several states. Its managers 
propose to go on in the manufacture of 
books for the blind, using the Boston letter, 
and making grants to the blind of each state 
in a r.atio corresponding to the amount con- 
tributed by that state. 

Owing in part to this paucity of books 
the educated blind seldom use the books 
in the raised letter subsequent to their grad- 
uation, except the Scriptures, but depend 
mostly upon the reading aloud of others for 
their information and instruction. 

Writing has always been a difiicult and 
irksome task to the blind; and various de- 
vices have been proposed to facilitate this 
labor, but hardly any of them have proved 
satisfactory. The plan adopted by the late 
William II. Prescott of using a frame of 
wires over the paper, enabled them to 
write in straight lines, but no corrections 
could be made, nor could the scribe read 
what he had written. The use of inks 
which would leave an elevated surface has 
been tried, but without much satisfaction ; 
small printing machines have also been used, 
but are not convenient. 

Within a few years past another process 
has been introduced, which, despite the ap- 
parent objections to it, proves far more 
serviceable and convenient than any other 
yet devised. By this invention, known 
as "Braille's system," from its inventor, M. 
Louis Braille, a French teacher of the blind, 



442 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



they are soon enabled to read and write 
•witli great facility, and by the addition of a 
single character, music can be printed or 
copied by the blind far more readily than a 
seeing person can do it in the ordinary way. 
The plan is based upon a series of funda- 
mental signs, comprising the first ten letters 
of tlie alphabet ; none of these consist of 
less than two nor more than four dots. A 
second series is formed by placing one dot 
at tlie left of each fundamental sign ; a third 
by jilacing two dots under each sign ; a fourtli 
by placing one dot under the right of each. 
These signs designate, besides the alphabet, 
the double vowels, peculiar compound sounds 
like th, and the marks of punctuation. By 
prefixing a sign consisting of three dots, the 
fundamental signs are used as numerals ; by 
prefixiTig another the last seven rejiresent 
musical characters, and by a sign peculiar to 
each octave the necessity of designating the 
key to each musical sentence is avoided. 

The apparatus consists of a board, in a 
frame like that of a double slate, the surface 
of which is grooved lioriziintaliy and verti- 
cally by lines one eighth of an inch a[iart ; on 
this the paper is fastened by shutting down 
the upper half of the frame, and the points 
are made with an awl or bodkin, through a 
piece of tin perforated with six holes, an 
eighth of an inch apart. The perfm'ations 
are made from right to left, in order that the 
writing when re\'ersed may read from left to 
right. Books and music are now printed for 
the blind on this system. Five or six of our 
larger institutions have adojited it. 

Some of the blind institutions in tliis coun- 
try have attached to them workshops for 
the adult blind, especially those who have 
graduated at tliese institutions, where certain 
advantages of shop-rent, machinery, matei'ial 
at wholesale prices, and in some instances 
board at a reduced rate, or a moderate pen- 
sion, are allowed, by way of equalizing the 
difference between them and the working 
classes who possess all their feculties. In 
one instance, in I'hiladelphia, an asylum has 
been provided for the aged and infirm blind, 
where, beguiling the weariness of the passing 
hours bv such light toil as they can readily 
accomplish, they may pass the evening of 
life in comfort and happiness. 

The ratio of the blind to the entire popu- 
lation was, according to the last census, 1 to 
23:28, which would give not far from 13,000 
as the present number in the country. Es- 
timating one fifth of these as of school age, 



there should be 2600 in the different insti- 
tutions. The number actually connected 
with them does not exceed 1300. As most 
of the states liave made provision for sup- 
porting poor blind children at these institu- 
tions, a provision available on application to 
the governor or secretaiy of state, this num- 
ber shouW be largely increased. 

We have the testimony of some of the 
most eminent European teachers of the blind, 
that our larger institutions are superior to 
any of those in Europe in the thoroughness 
and extent of their teaching, and in the 
.spirit of self-dependence with which they in- 
spire their pupils. We insert a table giv- 
ing a view of the present condition of the 
blind institutions in this country so far as 
can be ascertained. There is also an insti- 
tution for the blind incorporated in California. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

INSTITUTIONS FOR THE TRAINING OF 
IDIOTS. 

These belong to the class of humanitarian 
efforts which ha\'e become so numerous dur- 
ing the past hundred years, and which have 
embraced in their scope the infirm, the or- 
phan, the unfortunate, the vicious, and those 
who, from deprivation of one or more of their 
faculties, or feebleness of all of them, have 
become dc])endent upon others. 

An effort is said to have been made by 
Vincent de I'aul, one of the noblest and 
purest men in the Roman Catholic Church, 
more than two hundred years ago, to instruct 
a few adult imbeciles at the priory of St. 
Lazarus, in Pai'is, but with very slight suc- 
cess. The attempt was not repeated till 
1818, when an idiot child, dmnb from idiocy, 
was admitted as a pujiil at the American 
Asylum for the I)eaf and Dumb at Hartford, 
lie was considerably improved during a res- 
idence of a year there ; but not being prop- 
erly a deaf-mute, and not being capable of 
going on with their classes, he was dismissed. 
He had, however, learned the sign-language 
sufficiently to be able to communicate his 
wants by it. Other imbeciles were subse- 
quently, at various times, admitted to that 
and some other institutions f )r the blind and 
for deaf-mutes in this country prior to 1840. 
Most of these received some benefit from in- 
cidental instruction and intercourse with the 
pupils of these institutions. In Great Brit- 



INSTITUTIONS FOR THE TRAINING OF IDIOTS. 



443 



ain, as early as 1819, Dr. Richard Poole, of 
Edinburgh, published an Essay on Educa- 
tion, in which he urged the importance of 
attempting to educate and improve idiot 
children, and called for the organization of 
an institution for imbeciles. Efforts were 
made in France, from 1824 to 1838, by sev- 
eral eminent men, to instruct a few of these 
unfortunates, but with compai'ati\ely slight 
success. They were taught to imitate others 
in a few motions, and to repeat a few words 
by rote, but, left to themsehes, soon relapsed 
into their previous hopeless condition. In 
18:^8, Dr. Edward Seguin, a friend and pupil 
of the celebi-ated surgeon Itard, who had 
liimself long contemplated the possibility of 
idiot instruction, commenced teaching a few- 
idiot children in Paris. Unlike those who 
preceded him in this work, he had studied 
carefully, in all its bearings and relations, the 
subject of idiiicy ; and having become satis- 
fied that it was only a prolonged infanc}-, in 
which the infantile grace and intellio-ence 
having passed away, there remained only 
the feeble muscular development and mental 
weakness of that stage of growth, he sought 
to follow nature in his processes for the de- 
velopment of the enfeebled body and mind. 
In these eflorts he was far more successful 
than his predecessors. In 1846, he publish- 
ed his treatise on the Treatment of Idiocy, 
which is stiE the text-book of all teachers of 
imbeciles. 

About the same time that Dr. Seguin com- 
menced his school in Paris, a young Swiss 
physician of Zurich, Dr. Louis Guggenbiihl, 
attempted with success the training of some 
Cretin* children, on the Abendberg, above 
Interlachen. The success of these two phi- 
lanthropists led others in Prussia, Austria, 
the smaller German states, Sardinia, and 
England, to establish similar schools for the 
training of these hitherto neglected children. 

The first movements for idiot training in 
tliis CDuntry were made almost simultaneous- 
ly in New York and Massachusetts ; that in 
New York having slightly the precedence, 
though the first schools were organized in 
Massachusetts. Dr. F. F. Backus of Roch- 
ester, elected to the state Senate of New 
York in the autumn of 1845, had become 

* Tlie Cretin is an imbecile whose pliysical de- 
generation is greater, tliough his mental coudition is 
more hopeful, tlian that of the idiot. Tlie disease, 
Cretinism, is supposed to be caused by the impreg- 
nation of the springs with magnesian salts, and is 
very common in mountainous districts. 



interested in the accounts of the schools of 
Seguin ami Guggenbiihl, and informing him- 
self as fully as possible in regard to them, 
made a report to the Senate, in the session 
of 1840, accompanving it with resolutions 
providing for the establishment of a train- 
ing school. These passed the two Houses, 
but were reconsidered and lost in the low- 
er House. During the same winter, on the 
motion of Judge Byington, in the Massa- 
chusetts legislature, a commission was ap- 
pointed, consisting of the mover, and Dr. S. 
G. Howe and Gilman Kimball. Esq., to in- 
vestigate the condition of the idiots and im- 
beciles of the state. In 1848, as a result of 
the reports of this commission, the Massa- 
chusetts School for Imbecile and Feeble- 
minded Youth was chartered, but was not 
organized till October of that year. It is 
under the general superintendence of Dr. S. 
G. Howe. Meantime, in July, 1848, Dr. H. 
B. Wilbur, a young physician of Barrc, Mass., 
had opened a private school for imbecile and 
backward children in that town. In 1851 an 
experimental Asvlum for Idiots was estab- 
lished at Albany, N. Y., and Dr. Wilbur was 
appointed its superintendent. Three years 
later, this gave place to the New York State 
Asylum for Idiots at Syracuse, for which the 
state erected a noble edifice, and provided 
for the training of the indigent imbecile chil- 
dren of the state. In 1852, the Pennsylva- 
nia Training School for Idiots and Imbeciles 
was organized at Germantown, Penn. ; but in 
1859 it was removed to Media, Penn., where 
a large and well-provided asylum has been 
erected for it. It is under the care of Dr. 
Joseph Parish. In 1857, the Ohio State 
School for Idiots was established at Colum- 
bus, and I>r. R. J. Patterson took charge of 
it. The original school at Ban-e passed into 
the hands of Dr. George Brown when Dr. 
Wilbur removed to Albany, and still main- 
tains its early efficiency. Besides this, there 
are two other private scho(.)ls for imbeciles : 
one in New York, under the charge of Mr. 
J. B. Richards, who was f )rmerly connected 
with the Massachusetts and Pennsylvania in- 
stitutions, and one in Lakeville, Litchfield 
county. Conn., under the care of Dr. H. M. 
Knight, established in 1858. 

Sevei'al of the other state legislatures have 
agitated the subject, and will, probably, 
eventually establish schools. 

Of those already in existence, the asylum 
in Syracuse, of the state institutions, and that 
at Barre, of the private ones, have been the 



444 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 




ASYLUM FUB IDluTd, 8VKACLSK. 



most successful, and, in tlio opinion of com- 
petent and unprejudiced judges, are superior 
to any of the European institutions. Dr. 
Seguin, the founder of the Paris school, has 
been in this country much of the time for 
twelve years past, and has rendered efficient 
service in the introduction of the best meth- 
ods of instruction. 

The processes employed in the traininc; 
of idiots in our American institutions all 
grew out of Seguin's fuudauieiital theory, 
" th.at idiocy is a prolonged infancy;" and 
the course pursued by nature in developing 
the infent into the healthy, robust, intelli- 
gent child, is closely fdlowed. In many 
cases, the muscular system is feeble, and un- 
equally and imperfectly developed ; this is 
carefully invigorated by attention to diet, 
frequent bathing, and such exercise as shall 
strengthen the muscles, while subordinating 
them to the control of the will. Tlie atten- 
tion is fixed, and taught to distinguish form, 
size, and color by the presentation of objects 
of bright colors, and of varied form and bulk. 
The irregular muscular movements, often the 
result of habit, are controlled by gymnastic 



exercises with dumb-l>ells, ladders, etc., and 
by military exercises, which exact the atten- 
tion and careful action of the hands, feet, 
head, and eye. Numbers are taught by the 
object method, and reading bv tlie word sys- 
tem and the use of pictures. As in deaf-mute 
instruction, the effort is made, at the earliest 
possible moment, to direct the thoughts in- 
ward, to lead the child to watch and express 
his own feelings and emotions, and then to 
guide him to observe the emotions of others, 
and soon to learn something of his Creator, 
and his own moral nature and destiny. It 
is remarkable with what facility the simple 
truths of morality and religion are perceived, 
even by very weak intellects. Their progress 
in these is much more rapid than in intellect- 
ual studies ; yet many of the pupils in the 
best institutions learn to read passably well, 
to write a good hand, and generally to spell 
correctly ; become familiar with the jirincipal 
facts of geography, with the elements of gram- 
mar, and arithmetic as far, perhajis, as com- 
pound numbers. A few make still greater 
progress, but these are the exceptions, not 
the rule. 



INSTITUTIONS FOR THE EDUCATION AND TRAINING OF ORPHANS. 



445 



It is, perhaps, too soon to decide very con- 
fidently what will be the results of idiot in- 
struction ; but this much is tolerably certain, 
that a proportion not exceeding one fourth, 
and these often apparently the worst cases 
when admitted, will become so far ini]>roved 
AS to perfonn the ordinary duties of life and 
citizenship nearly as well as the masses gen- 
erally ; another fourth will improve so much 
as to be capable of working intelligently, un- 
der the supervision of others, but not of any 
considerable independent action — these will, 
under favorable circumstances, nearly or quite 
support themselves ; another fourth will be 
greatly improved in their habits, and will re- 
quire but little attention, though unable to 
do much toward their own support; while 
the remainder, though often, perhaps, as 
promising as any at first, will be little, if at 
all, improved. 

Tlie number of idiots and imbeciles in the 
country has never been satisfactorily ascer- 
tained, and in the nature of the case cannot 
be, from the reluctance of friends, in many 
cases, to admit their condition. Careful in- 
vestigations made in some of the states, and 
in single counties in others, would indicate 
that here, as in Europe, the number is but 
little less than that of the insane, or, in 
round numbers,^ one in 600. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

INSTITUTIONS FOR THE EDUCATION AND 
TRAINING OF ORPHANS. 

Some of the Eoman emperors and many 
of the bishops and pastors of the early Chris- 
tian Church interested themselves in the care 
of orphans, but during the dark ages this as 
well as other charities was neglected and for- 
gotten, and it was not till the sixteenth cen- 
tury that any attempts were made to estab- 
lish orphan asylums. During the seventeenth 
century they became quite numerous both 
among Protestants and Roman Catholics, 
and few large towns were without one or 
more orphan houses. The Moravians in par- 
ticular were specially tender of the father- 
less, and in all their settlements of consider- 
able size established houses for tliem. In the 
last years of the seventeenth century, August 
Hermann Franke established his orphan house 
at Ilalle, which still exists, and is one of the 
largest orphan asylums in the world. 

In this country orphan houses were estab- 



lished by the Moravians in Pennsvlvania and 
Georgia, early in the eighteenth century. In 
1740 the celebrated George Whitefield laid 
the foundation of his orphan house at Be- 
thesda, about ten miles from Savannah, Geor- 
gia. After many pecuniary difficulties it 
finally attained to a prosperous condition 
during his life, and he added to it an acade- 
my, and purposed, could a charter have been 
obtained, to establish a college iu connection 
with it. 

The number of orphan asylums established 
previous to the commencement of the pres- 
ent century was, however, very small. There 
were no very large cities, and it was onl_y in 
the large cities that orphans unfriended were 
so numerous as to require consitlerable build- 
ings for their shelter and domicile. In New 
York city the first orphan asylum grew out 
of the " Society for the Relief of Widows 
with Small Children," and owes its orisrin to 
the zeal and energy of'the late Mrs. Joanna 
Bethune. It was founded in 1806, and at 
first it was attempted to place the children 
in families, but their number soon rendered 
this difficult, and after renting premises for 
a time they erected an asylum in Bank street, 
and in 1840 removed to their new edifice on 
the banks of the Hudson, between Seventy- 
third and Seventy-fourth streets. It is large- 
ly endowed. 

Subsequently other institutions for orphans 
have been established in that city, some of 
them amply endowed either by legacies, or by 
the increased value of the property on which 
they were originally erected, while othcre 
are dependent, in part, on annual contribu- 
tions, or on grants from the city treasury or 
Board of Education. There are now ten of 
these institutions in New York city aiid four 
in the adjacent city of Brooklyn, aside from 
the Home for the Friendless and other pre- 
ventive and reformatory institutions, a large 
part of whose inmates are orphans ; and 
aside, also, from the Randall's Island Nurs- 
ery, where the last year about 1200 children 
— orphans, half orjjhans, or children of in- 
temperate and criminal parents — were cared 
for. In all these institutions in the city of 
New York not less than 4000 children are 
domiciled. 

There arc now asylums for orphans in 
nearly every town of 10,000 inhabitants in 
the country, and in the larger cities there are 
usually several. Thus there are nine or ten 
in Philadelphia, three in Baltimore, and five 
in Boston. One of the most remarkable of 



446 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



these, both on account of the magTiificence 
of its edifice and the lai-geness of its endow- 
ment, is the Girard College for orphans at 
Philadelphia. It was founded by the be- 
quest of a tract of land and two millions of 
dollars by Stephen Girard, a weaUhy banker 
of that city. Mr. Girard left minute direc- 
tions in his will in regard to the building 
and management of the charity. It is lo- 
cated on a lot comjirising fortj'-one acres of 
land, surrounded by a wall ten feet in height. 
The grounds are laid out as play-grounds, 
gardens, grass-plots, etc. The buildings are 
all of marble. The principal one is in the 
form of a Corinthian temple, 169 feet long, 
111 wide, and 97 high, and has a portico of 
thirty-four marble columns each 55 feet high. 
One of tlie smaller buildings is used as a 
laboratory, bakery, etc. The other four are 
each 125 feet long, 52 feet wide, and two 
stories in height. The whole cost of the 
buildings was 81,930,000. The officers are 
a president, secretary, two professoi's, five 
male and twelve female teachers, a physician, 
matron, assistant mati'on, and steward. The 
college was opened in January, 1S48. As 
many poor white male or|)hans as the cn- 
dijwmont can support arc admitted, between 
the ages of six and ton years, fed, clothed, 
and educated, and between the ages of f nir- 
teen and eighteen bound out to mechanical, 
agricultural, or commercial occupations. No 
ecclesiastic, missionary, or minister of any 
sect whatever, is to hold any connection 
with the college or be admitted to the prem- 
ises even as a visitor. The number of pupils 
on the foundation is a little over 350, and 
the annual expenditure about $60,000. 

This is but one of several munificent 
foundations for orphans in that city. The 
Burd Crphan Asylum recently founded there 
for orphans between four and eight years of 
age, and primarily those of Episcopal parent- 
age, has an endowment of about half a mill- 
ion dollars. 

At Zelienople, Butler county, in western 
Pennsyhania, a farm school for orphans from 
Lutheran families, was established in 1854, 
and is under the charge of a stiperintend- 
ent trained to his work in the Institute of 
Brothers connected with the Rough House, 
Dr. Wichem's reformatory at Horn, near 
Ilamburg. This is, so far as we .are a\vare, 
the first distinct ettbrt in this country to 
train orphan children distinctively to agri- 
cultural or horticultural pursuits. 

The ordinary course of instruction in most 



of these institutions embraces the common 
branches of English education, and in many 
of them some mechanical pursuit is taught 
and practised for four or five hours each day. 
There is reason to believe that, in many 
cases, the mode of life and the regularity and 
formality of the course of training, has too 
much tendency to render the children autom- 
ata, and unfit them to some extent fi>r the 
hardships, the frequent changes, and the 
sudden temptations to which they are ex- 
posed after leaving the institutions. Where 
they are placed in private families while yet 
quite young, this evil is not so likely to follow 
as where they are retained, as they are in 
some asylums, to the age of sixteen. 

No estimate, either of the amount perma- 
nently invested or of the annual current ex- 
penses of these institutions in this country, 
can be given, nor even any near approxima- 
tion to an estimate. The permanent invest- 
ment is to be reckoned by millions, and 
possibly by tens of millions ; the annual 
expenditure in New York city alone, reaches 
nearly or (piite half a million of dollars. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

PRETENTITE AND REFORMATORY INSTI- 
TUTIONS. 

Although there are occasional. indications 
that individual philanthropists, like the b«- 
nevolent Cardinal C)descalchi at Rome, and 
Sir Matthew Ilale in England, had clear per- 
ceptions of the evil of leaving vagrant and 
morally endangered children as well as ju- 
venile delinquents, exposed to the tempta- 
tions to a vicious life, yet apart from a school 
established partially for them by the foi'raer 
in 1586, there seems to have been no serious 
movement in their behalf pi'ior to the estab- 
lishment of the school and home for vagrant 
and vicious boj-s at Rome, by Giovanni 
Boi-gi, (better known as Tata Giovanni, or 
Papa John,) in 1786 or 1787, and the organ- 
ization of the " Philanthropic Society for the 
Prevention of Crime" at London in 1788. 
This last, originally established on the fami- 
ly plan, soon became a large establishment, 
in which a great number of bo3'8 were con- 
gregated and employed in different branches 
of manufacture, having also a probationary 
school of reform for the more vicious and 
criminal of its inmates. In 1846, the loca- 
tion was changed and the whole system 



PREVENTIVE AND REFORMATORY INSTITUTIONS. 



447 



modified. A laige fann was purchased at 
Red Hill, near Keigate, Suire}', agriculture 
and horticulture substituted for mechanical 
and manufacturing pursuits, and the family 
system for the congregated. Since that pe- 
riod tlic number of family reformatoi-ies, as 
they are called, has greatly increased in 
Great Britain. On the continent the emi- 
nent success of the agricultural and horticul- 
tural reformatories of Mettray, Horn, Ruysse- 
lede, and many others of more recent origin, 
has attracted general attention. 

In this country the first institution in- 
tended for the reformation of vicious and 
criminal children, ■was the "New York House 
of Refuge for Juvenile Delinquents," incor- 
porated in 1824 and opened January 1, 1825. 
Its founders were John Griscom, Isaac Col- 
lins, James W. Gerard, and Hugh Maxwell, 
all at the time members of a " Society for 
the Prevention of Pauperism and Crime," 
which had been formed in 1818. These 
gentlemen were aided and encouraged by 
others whose names appear on the list of 
corporators, and who were through life note- 
worthy fortlieir hearty participation in works 
of philanthropy. The institution thus found- 
ed has had a steady growth, as the rapid in- 
crease of population in the city has been 
attended by a more than corresponding aug- 
mentation of the number of juvenile delin- 
quents. At the end of thirty-six years from 
its first opening it occupies a tract of be- 
tween thi;ty and forty acres on the southern 
end of Randall's Island, in the East River, 
and its colossal buildings, erected at an ex- 
pense of not far from ^4.50,000, furnish am- 
ple aec<unmodations for school-rooms, lodg- 
ing-rooms, dining-rooms, and workshops for 
7.50 children, and actually hold in durance 
nearly 700. 

In 1826 a "House of Reformation," on a 
similar plan, was establislied in Boston, and, 
in 1828, a " House of Refuge" in Philadel- 
phia. iSimilar institutions have since been 
organized in New Orleans, Rochester, N. Y., 
Westboro', Mass., Cincinnati, Providence, 
Pittsburg, West Meriden, Corn., St. Louis, 
Baltimore, and perhaps some other cities. 

The distinguishing cliaracteiistics of these 
institutioHs are, that those committed to 
them have generally been arrested for crime, 
and have either been sentenced to the House 
of Refuge, in lieu of a sentence to jail or 
state prison, or have been sent to these in- 
stitutions without sentence, iu the hope of 
their reformation. They are supported, di- 



rectly or indirectly, from the public treasury 
(the New York house, besides an appropiia- 
tion of ^40 per head from the state comp- 
troller, recei\'ed last year $8000 from the 
city treasury, over $5000 from the Board 
of Education for its schools, and about 
$7500 from theatre licenses). In most, or 
all of them, the children are employed in 
some branch of manufacture, or some me- 
chanic art, for from five to eight hours per 
day, and receive from three to five hours' in- 
struction in school. In all there is more or 
less religious and moral instruction imparted, 
having in view their permanent reformation 
from evil habits and practices. In all, or 
nearly all, they are confined at night in cell- 
like dormit<u-ies, into which thev are secure- 
ly looked, and their labor, during the day, 
is under strict supervision, and is generally 
farmed out to contractors. High walls and 
a strict police are mainly relied on to pre- 
vent escape, and the attempt to do so, or 
any act of insubordination, is usually pun- 
ished with considerable though not perhaps 
unmerited se\erity. The managers generally 
possess and exercise the power of indentur- 
ing those children who, after a longer or 
shorter stay, seem to be reformed, even 
thougli the period of their sentence has not 
been completed. A considerable number 
who have been sent to the House of Refuge 
on comiilaiut of their parents are, after a 
time, delivered to them on application ; but 
a large proportion of these do not do well. 
Of the others, it is believed that from fifty 
to seventy-five per cent, reform, at least so far 
as to become quiet and law-abiding citizens. 
Of those who do not reform, some, after dis- 
chai'ge at the end of their term, are soon re- 
committed ; others are sent to sea, and per- 
haps amid the hardships of a sailor's life 
become reformed ; others return to the vi- 
cious associations from which they were orig- 
inally taken, and after a few months or j'ears 
of crime, find their place among the inmates 
of the county or convict prisons, meet a 
violent death, or fill a drunkard's grave. 

These institutions necessarily combine 
something of the character of a prison with 
that of the school, and while their main ob- 
ject is the reformation rather than the pun- 
ishment of the young offender, they retain 
so many penal features tliat they are objects 
of dread and dislike to many parents and 
guardians wliose children or wards would be 
materially benefited by their discipline. 

This feature of their management has led 



448 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



to the establishment of another class of re- 
formatories which, though sometimes assum- 
ing similar names, are essentially different 
both in the character of their inmates and 
in the methods adopted for their reforma- 
tion. These methods are indeed quite di- 
verse in the institutions coming under this 
general head, and are to some extent the 
reflection of the differing views of those who 
have charge of them. 

The subjects taken in charge by these re- 
formatories are somewhat younger on the 
average than those of the houses of refuge ; 
they are for the most part only guilty of 
vagrancy and the vicious habits of a street 
life, or at the worst, of petty pilferings and 
thefts ; they have not been, in most in- 
stances, tried for any crime against the laws, 
or if they have, their tender age has justified 
the magistrate in withholding a sentence. 

When admitted to the reformatory, which 
is usually dune on a magistrate's warrant, 
they undergo a thorough ablution, and are 
cli)thod in jilain, neat garments having no 
distinguishing mark, are well fed, and care- 
fully taught and watched over, and the ut- 
most pains are taken to eradicate their evil 
habits, and to make them feel that their 
teachers and those who have them in charge 
are their best friends and seek their good. 
Their past history is never alluded to, and is 
generally known only to the superintendent. 
In these establishments there are no dormi- 
tory cells, and severe punishment is seMom 
found necessary. The labor of the pupils is 
seldom regarded as a matter of mucli im- 
portance, though in some instances three, 
four, or five hours a da}' are spent in some 
hght emj)lo3'ment. From these institutions 
escapes are unfrequent, and in mcjst cases 
the childi'en fjrm a strong attachment for 
their teachers. In some instances they are 
broken up into groups or families of twenty 
or thirty persons, each having its " house 
father" and mother, and its " elder brother," 
if the pupils are boys, and its matron or 
" mother," and elder sister or aunt, if they 
are girls. These officers teach them and per- 
form the duties indicated by their titles in 
such a way as to supply, as far as possible, 
the ])lace of those natural relations of whose 
judicious influence they are deprived. One 
of these reformatories is a ship, and the 
pupils are taught all the dnties required of 
an able-bodied seaman, and the order and 
discipline are similar to those of the naval 
school sliips. The}' are taught, in addition 



to ordinary common-school studies, naviga- 
tion, and after a few months' instruction are 
in demand for the mercantile marine, where 
they not unfreq\iently are ra|iidly promoted. 

In most of these institutions the pupils 
remain in the reformatory a shorter a\-crage 
period than those who are inmates of the 
houses of refnge. In the New York Juve- 
nile Asylum, one of the most successful of 
these reformatories, they arc usually inden- 
tured or discliarged in six or twelve months. 
In the State Industrial School for Girls at 
Lancaster, Mass., comparatively few remain 
over a year. These institutions are usually 
supported by the large cities, though in a 
few instances they are state institutions. 
The labor of the children being of but little 
account, the expense per head per annum is 
somewhat greater than in the houses of 
refnge, but the number of refoi-mations is 
also greater, and may with considerable cer- 
tainty be estimated at from seventy-five to 
eighty -five per cent. Among these institu- 
tions we may name the " New York Juvenile 
Asylum," the " State Industrial School for 
Girls" at Lancaster, Mass., the " Massachu- 
setts School Ship," the "Asylum and Farm 
School" at Thompson's Island, Boston, the 
" State Reform School" at Cape Elizabeth, 
Maine, the " Ret'irm School" at Chicago, 
and the " State Reform Farm" at Lancaster, 
Ohio. In the last, which is the first attempt 
at the introduction of the family or group 
system for boys in this country, fruit culture 
is to be the principal employment of the in- 
mates, and the term of residence will be 
longer than at most of the others. 

In our large cities there is still another 
class of children for whom a preventive edu- 
cation is necessary ; they are not criminal, 
they have not generally acquired vicious 
habits, but they are morallij endangered. 
They arc often orphans or half orphans, and 
frequently homeless ; many of them are chil- 
dren of foreign parents (if the lower classes, 
and have had no opportunities of education ; 
some are the oftspring of vicious or intemper- 
ate parents. The greater part of them obtain 
a precarious livelihood by begging, sweeping 
crossings, boot blacking, selling newspapers, 
statuettes, frnit, or small wares, or oi'gan- 
grinding. They are all exposed to strong 
temptations to evil, and have acquired a 
kind of defiant independence from being 
diiven so earlv to take care of themselves. 

For these children it has been felt that 
some provision must be made to prevent 



PREVEXTIVE AN'U REFORMATOllY IXSTITUTIONS. 



449 



tliem from falling into vicious and criminal 
courses, and becoming depredators upon 
society, and to give tliera the opportunity 
of becoming good and intelligent citizens. 
The measures necessary to accomplisli these 
results have been the subject of much dis- 
cussion ; and amid the experimenting which 
has been the result of this discussion, much 
good and some evil have been done. Indus- 
trial schools have been established, mainly 
for girls, in which reading and the elements 
of geography and arithmetic, vocal music, 
and the use of the needle in plain work, are 
tanght ; and the furnishing of one or two 
meals a day and plain clothing when need- 
ed, arc made the inducements to attendance. 
For the newsboys and other young vendors 
of petty wares, a lodging house has been 
opened in New York city, and evening in- 
struction given, the boys paying six cents 
each for their lodging. On the Sabbath a 
free dinner is provided for those who will 
attend and receive religious instructions ; 
evening schools are also established, where 
those who are engaged in their little em- 
ployments during the day, may receive in- 
tellectual and moral training. 

In the worst quarters of New York and 
Philadelphia, missions and houses of indus- 
try have been founded, in which schools are 
kept thi'ough the week, much after the plan 
of the industrial schools already described, 
and where homeless forsaken children, and 
those whose parents are vicious and degrad- 
ed, are clothed, boarded, instructed, and 
made to know the comforts of a home. It 
is obvious, however, that the greatest kind- 
ness which can be done to these children is 
to remove them from the influence of the 
temptations to which they have been ex- 
posed, and hence, most of these institutions 
send their children to homes in the country, 
after more or less preparatory training, as 
fiist as good places can be found for them. 
In many cases, they are adopted by those in 
whose charge they are placed, and find in 
their foster parents more tender affection 
and care than they have ever known before. 
In other cases, they meet with less sympathy 
and love, and return to the great city and its 
temptations again. 

In 1853, a " Children's Aid Society" was 
organized in New York city, mainly through 
the efforts of Mr. Charles L. Brace, one of 
■whose principal objects is the location of 
this class of children in good homes at the 
West and elsewhere. Several of these so- 
27* 



cieties have since been formed in other large 
cities. The original society at New York 
has the oversight of industrial schools, boys' 
meetings, the newsboys' lodging house, etc., 
and gathers from all quarters these morally 
endangered children, and sends them into 
the country in companies of forty or fifty ; 
its agents having secured situations for 
them. About 800 are thus sent out an- 
nually. 

Still another class of organizations intend- 
ed for the benefit of these hapless children, 
though devoting its attention mainly to two 
classes of them, the very young children, 
infants and children under ten years, and 
girls of thirteen years and over, who are 
homeless and out of employment, are the 
Homes for the Friendless, of which there 
are now twelve in the United States. The 
first of these originated with the American 
Female Guardian Society, in New York, 
and was the result of the efforts of the di- 
rectors of that society to rescue these class- 
es from ruin. It assumed its present form 
in 1847, and has had nearly 10,000 in- 
mates ; 683 were received as members of its 
schools and workrooms in 1859, and 674 
were employed in the home workrooms, 
and furnished with situations ; 640 girls 
were taught in its industrial schools, and 
560 f-miilies aided. 

These institutions arc all of them main- 
tained principally by private contributions, 
though most of them, in the large cities, re- 
ceive school moneys, to aid in sustaining 
their schools, from the city or state, and 
some of them receive occasional grants from 
the state or city treasuries. 

It is impossible to ascertain, w-ith any con- 
siderable certainty, the exact percentage of 
children from these institutions, who event- 
ually turn out well. In most of them, the 
failures are the exceptions, and the number 
of these is not large. The Home for the 
Friendless in New York city keeps up a 
correspondence relative to each child sent 
out, until their majority, unless they die be- 
fore that time. This correspondence dem- 
onstrates that full 90 per cent, grow up 
virtuous and well behaved. This percent- 
age is larger than can safely be predicated of 
the other institutions, inasmuch as the chil- 
dren are for the most part received into the 
home at a very earlv age, and have not ac- 
quired the evil habits of those who are 
older, before coming under the influence of 
these charities. In the Children's Aid So- 



450 



EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 



cieties, Houses of Industry, etc., the per- 
centage reformed is large, but not definitely 
ascertainable. 

There is still another class of refonnatory 
institutions not intended for children, but 
for that unfortunate class of women who, 
having led lives of unchastity, have become 
])enitent for their sins and desire to return 
to the jiaths of virtue. This department of 
I'cform has been less actively promoted here 
than in Europe, and especially in Great Brit- 
ain, but there are in most of our large cities 
Magdalen Asylums, or institutions otherwise 
designated, but intended for this class. New 
York has one of these asylums, Boston two, 
and Philadelphia three, one of which, the Ro- 
sine Asylum, founded in 1847, is a very act- 
ive and useful organization. 

The number of Houses of Refuge, or in- 
stitutions of that class, is fourteen. The 
cost .of their buildings and grounds is about 
.^2,050,000, and the amnial cost of their 
iijidntenance not far from $340,000. 

Of the Juvenile Asyhims, &c., there are 
seven , the cost of buildings and grounds is 
not far from $450,000, and the annual ex- 
penses of maintenance about $130,000. 

The number of institutions of the third 
class cannot be definitely ascertained. Few 
or none of them are established or entirely 
maintained by the state or city governments, 
and some are altogether private enterprises. 



There are fifteen of them in the city of New 
York alone, and two or three in Brooklyn, 
five or six in Philadelphia, and a consider- 
able number in smaller cities and towns. 
Some of these occupy leased biiildings, oth- 
ers own their edifices. 

The buildings and grounds of the New 
York Home for the Friendless cost nearly 
$60,000, and of the Five Points House of 
Industry, about $40,000. The annual ex- 
penses of seven of the more important of 
the preventive and reformatory institutions 
in New York city, were about $114,000. It 
would probably be safe to estimate the total 
pei-manent investment of all these organi- 
zations at not less than three millions of 
dollars, which we are satisfied is below the 
reality, and the current annual expenditure 
at not less than $750,000. 

That these institutions have not yet at- 
tained to their highest degree of efticiency, 
and that they are not fully adequate to the 
reformation and preventive education of the 
\ast number of morally endangered, vagrant, 
and criminal children of the country, is un- 
doubtedls' true; but among the evidences of 
national progress in our country since the 
commencement of its independent existence, 
tliere is none which reflects greater credit 
upon its philanthropy than the establishment 
and maintenance of so many institutions of 
reformation and preventive education. 



EDUCATIONAL STATISTICS. 



461 






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452 



REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 



STATISTICS OF COLLEGES AND COLLEGIATE DEPAETilENTS IN THE UNITED 

CENT INFOEMATION IN THE POSSESSION OF 



NoTK 1. — Institutions not fuUy reported are to bo understood as not bein.s in recent correspondence 

NoTio 2.— For statistics of the protcssional scliools or departments connected witli any of these instita 

cultural, &.C., in this report. 

Note 3. — In the columns of " Cost of tuition per term," and " Board per month," statistics marked 

Note 4. — In this table the abbreviations in the column of " Denominations " are as follows: R, C, 

copal; Conj., Congregational ; Pres., Presbyterian ; Clir., Christian; U. P., United Presbyterian; C. P., 

tists; Univ.,Universalist; Unit., Unitarian; Mor., Moravian; N. Ch.. New Church; G. K., German 

pal; E. A., Evangelical Associations ; M. P., Methodist Protestant; C. and P., Congregational and Prcs 

' Note 5. — The existence of those colleges marked with an interrogation point (?) is considered doubt 



Name. 



Location. 



President. 



East Alabama, Male College 

Florence University (?) 

AVesleyan College (?) 

Southern University 

La Gr.ango College (?) 

Howard College 

Spring HiU College 



Talladega College 

University of Alabama. . 

Cane HiUCollege 

St. John's College 

College of St. Augustine. 



St. Vincent's College 

Marvsville College 

Odd 'Follows' College (?) 

University of California 

Petaluma'CoUege 

St. Ignatius College 

St. Mary's College 

Union ('''^llc"'^ 

Univer.'^ity (Jollege 

San Kafae'l College 

Franciscan College 

College of our Lady of Guada- 
lupe. 

Santa Clara College 

UniviTsitv of the Pacific 

Pacilic JMil lic.dist College 

Sonoma ('ullri^r 

Pacitic Methodist College 

Cahfornia College 

Hesperian College 

Color.ado College (!) 

Trinity College 

"Wesleyan University 



Tale College , 

Br.indywine College 

Delaware College 

University of Georgia. 

Atlanta Univoi'sity 

IJowdon College 

Oglethorpe College . . . , 

fiercer University 

tUirist's College 

I^Iontjielier College 

Emory College , 



■(!) 



Abingdon College 

Illinois AVesloyan University. 

St. Viatvir's r'ollogo 

rdackliuiii University 

Chicago University 

St. Ignatius ( 'ollege 

St. Aloysius College . 



531 Eureka College 



Auburn, Ala 

Florence, Ala 

, do 

Greensborougb, Ala 

La Grange, AJa 

Marion, Ala 

(Spring Hill,) near Mobile, 
Ala. 

Talladega, Ala 

Tuscaloosa, Ala 

Cane Hill, Ark 

Little Rock, Ark 

Benicia, Cal 



J. T. Dunklin . 



1830 
1841 
1835 



A. S. Andrews, D. D. 



J. F. Mnrfco 

Rev. J. Montillot, S. J . 



Los Angeles, Cal 

Marysvillo, Cal 

Napa City, Cal 

Oakland.'Cal 

Petaluma, Cal 

San Francisco, Cal . 

do 

, do 

do 

San Rafael, Cal , 

Santa Barbara, Cal. 
do , 



1832 
1852 
185' 
1868 

1867 



N. T. Lnpton, A. M 

Rev. F. R. Earle, A.M.... 

Col. O. C. Gray, A. M 

Rev. W. P. Tucker, A. M . 



Rev. J. McGill, C. M. 



1855 
1866 
1855 
1863 



H. Durant, A. M . 



Rov. J. Bayma, S. J. 
Brother Justin 



1859 
1869 
1868 



Rev. "Wm. Alexander 

Alfred Bates , 

Rev. J. J. O'Keefe, O. S. F. 



Santa Clara, Cal 

do 

Santa Rosa, Cal 

Sonoma. Cal 

Vaeaville, Cal , 

do 

Woodland, Cal 

Golden City, Col. Ter. 

Hartford. Conn 

Middletown, Conn 



1851 
1851 
1861 
1859 
1851 
1871 
1869 



Rev. A. Tarsi, S.J 

Rev. T. H. Sinex, D.D 

A.L.Fitzgerald 

Rev. W. N. (.'unninghara 

Rov. J. R. Thomas, D. D., LL. D. . 

M.Bailev, A. M 

J.M. M.-irtin, A. M 



New Haven, Conn . 
Brandy wine, Del... 

Newark, Del 

Athens, Ga 

Atlanta, Ga 

Bowdon, Ga 

Atlanta, Ga 

Macon, Ga 

Montpelier, Ga 

Oxford, Ga" !!...'.! 



1823 
1831 



1701 



Rev. Abner Jackson. D. D., LL.D 
Rev. Joseph Cummings, D. D., 

LL.D. 
Rev. Noah Porter, D. D., LL. D. , 



1869 
1801 
1867 
1856 
1835 
1838 



"W. H. Purncll, A. M , 

A. A. Lipscomb, D. D 

E. A. AVare, A. M 

Kev. F. H. M. Henderson, A. B. 

Rev. D. Wills, D. D 

Rev. A. J. B.attlo 



Abingdon, 111 

Bloomington, Dl 

Bourbonnais Grove, HI. 

C.arlinville, HI 

Chicago, 111 

do 

East St. Louis, m , 

£ttreka, BJ 



1837 

1853 
1852 
1866 



Rev. L. M. Smith, D. D . 



1859 
1870 
1868 
1653 



J. W. Bntler, A. M 

Rev. O. S. Munsell, D. D 

Very Rev. P. Eeandoin 

Ee%-. J. W. Bailey. D. D 

Rev. J. C. Burroughs, D. D, LL.D 

Rev. A. Damen 

Rev. F. H Zabel, D. D., D. C. L 
H. W, Everest, A. M 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 



453 



STATES AUTHOEIZED TO COXFEK DEGREES IN AETS, COMPILED FEOM THE MOST EE. 
THE UNITED STATES BUREAU OF EDUCATION. 

with tho offico. 

tions, rofcroDce is made to the appropriate tables, theological, le^jal, medical, normal, commercial, agri- 

*' n " mean the given amount per annnm ; " 6 " signifies board and tuition per annum. 

Eoman Catholic; Bupt., Baptist; Mas., Masonic; M. E., Methodist Episcopal; P. E., Protestant Epis* 

Cumberlanil riesbvterian ; Liith., Lutheran; Fr., Friends; U. B., United Brethren; F. B., Free Bap- 

Eeformod; Ref., Uelbrmcd, (Dutch;) L. D. S., Latter-Day Saints; A. M. E., African Methodist Episco- 

bvteriau ; M. E. S., Methodist Episcopal, South. 

fiil. 





1 

a 

o 
n 


o 
o 

5 

a 

o 

i 


Students. 


Cost of— 


.g 
s 

1 

•3 






a 

a 
I 

« 

1 

n 
P. 

1 


d 
a 

1 


i 

s 

o 

P4 


i 

5 

a 


1^ 
o 

'3 


! 
li 

o o 

s 

u 

« 

o 




a 


o 
H 


s, 

a 

i 


1 


Time of commencement. 


I 


M. E. S. 


7 


15 


... 




28 


55 




98 




98 


O$70 


$18 




Last 'Wednesday in June. 


a 
































4 


M.E... 


S 












... 
















,■) 




























(i 


It::: 


5 

18 

8 
11 
3 

G 

7 

4 














142 
52 




142 

52 

386 
64 

104 
07 
90 

50 


50 
6328 




2,500 
8,000 


Last Thursday in Juno. 
4th Tuesday in August. 


7 


40 


6 


6 










8 



























64 
104 
67 
90 

50 




050 

a50 

050 

20-50 

O250 


oiso 

13 

18 
25 

25 


3,000 

'i,'i66 

1,000 


Last TVednesday in Jane. 


in 




77 










27 


n 


Ma.s ... 
P.E ... 

E.C ... 












12 
11 


49 


10 


14 


8 


9 


.... 


Thursdayafter 1st Wednes- 
day of June. 
August 16. 


U 














ITi 
































IG 

n 


Stato .. 


18 


174 


32 


13 


2 


5 


26 


247 




252 


Free . . . 


0200-320 




3d "Wednesday in July. 


if= 


R.a... 

E.C ... 


19 














559 


... 


559 


36 






June 5. 


10 




















"O 
































"1 




7 




























O.T 






























"1 


EC ... 


6 


30 






30 


30 


2 


92 




92 


0150 




8,000 


March 2. 


?4 






TO 


EC ... 
M.E... 
M.E... 


17 
G 
6 














225 
55 

78 




nnn 


1350 
a30-C0 
030-70 


'""20^25 
20 


12, 000 

2,000 

500 


1st Tuesday in Juno. 
May 30. 
Middle of May. 


2G 
2T 

"8 


86 
115 


2 

20 


2 
10 


2 
3 


3 

2 


20 


coiis 

72|150 


2D 


M.E... 
B.ipt... 
Chr.... 


7 
4 
7 


66 
32 

87 


23 
8 
11 


6 


8 
2 
14 


6 


96 


119 
25 

82 


88 
17 
71 


11 

153 


O30-80 

25-40 

15i-34J 


20 
20 


300 

150 


May 18. 

3d Wednesday in May 

2d Friday in May. 


31 


i 


37 


33 
34 

35 

in 


P.E... 
M.E... 

Cong . . 


16 
10 

2o 


... 


49 
49 

130 


42 
42 

134 


42 

42 

135 


30 
30 

128 




163 
163 

527 




103 
163 

527 


oOO 
033 

30 


IS 

18 

22 


15, 000 

20, 000 

90,000 


2d Thursday in July. 
3d Thursday in July. 

Last Thurs. but two in July. 


37 


State.. 
State .. 


G 
12 
7 
5 
6 
5 


44 


28 
14 










72 
231 
111 
102 
150 

82 




72 
231 
170 
102 
150 

62 


060 
6300 


16 


"26,' 666 


1st Wednesday in July. 
Ist Wednesday in August. 


3S 


59 




33 


125 


11 




40 




51 

75 


25 


12 


8 


G 


75 


054 

75 

olOO 


ol50 

18-25 

18 


'5,' 666 
5,000 


1st Wednesday in July. 
1st Wednesday in .Jidy. 
2d Wednesday in July. 


41 


Pres... 
Bapt... 


4-2 
41 


14 


24 


24 


20 


4o 

1 






























M. E. S. 
Chr ... 


7 


34 


28 


47 


41 


23 


13 


186 




186 


35 


18 


7,000 


Wednesday aft /i 3d Mon 
day in July. 


M.E... 
E.C... 


6 
9 
8 
14 
G 
4 


132 


G 


4 


1 


1 


56 


200 




200 


o33 
6207 
6150 
O50 
aCO 
a40 


19 


1,500 


June 20. 


40 


Pros . . . 
Bapt . . . 
E.C.... 
E.C.... 
Chr.... 


28 
186 
64 


C 
26 
43 


5 
16 


2 
15 


2 
10 


231 
84 


181 
277 
107 
50 
lOU 


3.^ 


107 
50 
135 








50 
51 


10 


4,000 


Last Thursday in June. 


5-? 










16 


300 


1st Monday in September. 
1st Wednesday in June. J 


Kl 





































454 E£PORT OP THE COMMISSIONER OP EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF COLLEGES AITO COLLEGIATB 



Ifame. 



54 
55 
5G 
57 
58 
59 
60 
61 
62 
63 
64 
65 
66 
67 
6« 
69 
70 
71 
72 
73 



Location. 



Northwestern University. .. 

Lombard University 

Knox College 

Marsbiill College W 

Illinois College 

McKeiulree College 

Liuciiln X'liivrisity 

Meudutacai.-.i (!) 

MouiiKiuth Ci'llcge 

Northwestern College 

Aviguytau.i College 

Quincy College 

Jubil.V Cull. -.■ 

St. I'atri.ksC.. liege (1) 

Sburtl.tl r,ill,-,> 

Westli.ld C.ill.-u'« 

Wbiatiiii(.'oll.^<. 

Ulinoi.'* ludustiial University 

Unuliard c :ollego (?) 

Indiana University 



BrooUviUe Cfilloge 

Walwsl, (■oUru,. 

Franklin Colli-gi' 

Fort Wayne College 

Concordia College 

Indiana Asbury University. . . 

HanuverC.llrKo 

llaitsviUe University 

Nortbwcsteru Cbristian Uni- 
versity. 

Union Christian College 

Moore's Hill College 

Salem College 

tjb University of Notre Dame . . . 

87 Earllnuu College 

88 St M.'inrad's Collego 

89 Valparaiso Colb-go 

90 Sniillisoii Cnllogo 

91 Howard C.aiige 

9i i;uilini:toii University 

93 UriswoldCollrge 

94 Norwiuian Lntlier College 

95 Parson s ( 'oll.'go (?) 

96 Fairlield College 

97 Uiijier li iwa University 

98 Iowa College 

99 Siniiison Centenary College 

100 Iowa State T) niversity 

101 Iowa Wesleyan University 

103 Cornell College 

103 ('[ iitnil University of Iowa 

lU) Wliittiir College (!) 

lO.'i llnmboldt College 

100 Tabor College 

107 St. Bonediet's College 

lUR liaker University 

109 Highland University 

110 State University 

1 1 1 Ottawa University 

113 AVasbbnm College 

114 Lane University 

ll.'i Beroa College 

lie Ccciliali Colligo 

117 Cent re ( :(dlege 

118 Kentucky Military Institute . 



Evanston, 111 

Galesburgh, 111 

do 

Henry, HI 

Jaeksouville, 111 ... 

Lebanon, 111 

Lincoln, III 

Meudot.a, 111 

Monmouth, III 

Naiierville, HI 

Paxton, 111 

Quiuev, III 

liobin's Nest, HI . . . 

liuma, 111 

Upper Alton, 111 ... 

Westfleld, 111 

Wheaton, 111 

Urbana, 111 

Bourbon, Ind 

Bloomington, Ind . . 



Brookville, Ind 

Crawl'ordsville, Ind . 

Franklin, Ind 

Fort Wayne, Ind 

do 

Greeneastle, Ind 

Hanover, Ind 

Hartsville, Ind 

Indianapolis, Ind . . . 



President. 



1855 

18: 

1841 
185. 
1830 

lax: 

1865 

iesc 

1805 
18()0 
1854 
1847 



E. 0. Haven, D. D., LL. D. 
Eev. J. P. Weston, D. D . . 
Kev. J. P. GnUiver, D. D . . 



1833 
18C1 



Meroni, Ind 

Moore's Hill, Ind 

Bourbon, Ind 

Notre Dame, Ind 

lUcbinond, Ind 

St. Meinrad, Ind 

Valparaiso, Ind 

, Ind 

Koknmo, Ind 

Burlington, Iowa 

Davenjiort, Iowa 

Uecorah, Iowa 

I)es Moines, Iowa 

Fairfield, Iowa 

Fayette, Iowa 

Grinnell, Iowa 

Indianola, Iowa 

Iowa City, Iowa 

Mount rieasaut, Iowa . . . 

Mount Vernon, Iowa 

Pella, Iowa 

Salem, Iowa 

Springvale, Iowa 

T.abor, Iowa 

Atchison, Kana 

Baldwin City, Kans 

Highland, Kans 

Lawrence, Kans 

Ottawa, Kans 

Topeka, Kans 

Leeomptou, Kans 

Berea, Kv 

Cecilian I'ost Office, Ky. 

Danville, Ky 

Near Frauk'lort, Ky 



1828 

1851 
1834 
1843 
1846 
1850 
1837 
1833 
IS.'iO 
1855 

1859 
1853 
1370 
1843 
1860 
1860 



P.e V. J. M. Sturtcvant, D. D 

Eev. K. AUvn, D. D 

J. C. Bowdo'n, D. D 

Eev. J. W. Corbet, A. M 

D. A. 'W allace, D. D., LL. D 

Itev. A. A. Smith, A. M 

Eev. T. N. Hasselquist 

G. W. Gray, A. M 

Et. Eev. U' J. WMtehouao, D. D, 



J. Eulkley, D. D 

Eev. S. B'. Allen, A. M .... 
Eev. J. Bl.anchard, A. M. 
J. M. Gregory, LL. D 



1854 
1859 
1861 



1858 

isG' 

ISGO 

1851 

185 

1854 

186' 



185)9 
1858 
1859 
1864 



1805 
1865 
1858 
1860 
1823 
1846 



Eev. C. Nutt, D. D 

Eev. J. P. D. John, A.M.. 

Eev. J. F. Tuttle, D. D 

H. L. Wayland, D. D 

Eev. L. Beers, A. B 

Eev. W. Sibler, Ph. D 

Eev. T. Bowman, D. D 

Eev. G. C. Heekman, D.D . 

J. 'W. Scribner, A. M 

■W.F.Elaek, A. M 



Eev. T. Holmes, D.D... 
Eev. .1. U. Martin, A. M . 

O. W. Miller, A. il 

Very Eev. AV. Corby 

J. iioore, A. M 

Eev. J. Uobie, 0. S. B... 

Eev. T. B. Wood 

Eev. P. E. Kendall 



J.Henderson 

Eev. E. Lounebery, A. M . 
Prof. L. Larsen 



Eev. A. Axlino, A. M 

B. W. McLaiu, A. M 

Eev. G. F. Magoun, D. D . 

Eev. A. Burns, D. D 

Eev. G. Tbacber, D. D . . . . 

John Wheeler, D. D 

Eev. W.F.King, D.D .... 

Eev. L. A. Dunn 

.T. H. Pickering 

Eev.S.H.Taft 

Eev. W. M. Brooks, A. M. 
Very Eev. G. Cbristoph . . 
Eev. J. A. Simpson, A.M. 

Eev. J. A. McAfee 

John Eraser, A. M 



Eev.P.McVie.ar, D.D 

N.B.Bartlett 

Eev. E. U. Fairchild 

H. A.Cecil 

O. Beatty, LL. D 

CoL E. T. P. Allen, A. M., C. E . 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 
DEPAETinjNTS IN THE TTXITED STATES, <tc.— Continued. 



45.5 





d 
.2 

d 

a 

a 

o 

g 
p 


s 

o 
m 

•S 

<•- 

O 
u 

•2 

30 
9 
15 


Students. 


Cost of - 


0} 

a 

3 
> 

i 




Si 


a 

oT 

>i 

o 

rt 

a 
p, 

185 
107 
127 


d 

a 
.a 

1 

40 

18 
26 


u 

i 
1 

2** 
IC 
9 


_3 


i 

a 

9, 


6 

u 
Pi 

O 

.a « 

u 

1 

o 


t 
rt 


to 

rt 

a 


1 


u 

a 
-2 


a 


a 
p< 


Time of commencement 


54 
55 
5G 


M. E... 
Univ... 
Cong... 


20 
4 
13 


15 
11 
13 


20 

"78 


289 
l,->6 
156 


18307 
...156 
110 206 


$7 
33 

030 


$20 

18 
18 


27, 000 
3,500 
0,200 


4 th Tuesday in June. 
3d Wfdne8d.ay in June. 
4th Thursday in Juno. 


*!« 


Cons;... 
M. K... 
C.P ... 
Luth 


12 
7 
6 














ip.\ 


... 324 
43 261 

60j206 










59 

CO 


39 

98 


14 

13 


14 

8 


10 

18 


6 
11 


178 
50 


218 
140 


8 
a2G-40 


18 
lC-18 


8,500 


3d Thursday in June. 
2d Thursday in June. 


02 
63 


U.P... 
E.A .. 
Lnth .. 
M. E... 


13 
10 
3 


147 
21 
31 


19 
10 
7 


13 

C 

5 


~8 


18 
4 


117 

195 


218 
1C4 

58 


123 
60 


341 
244 
58 


(l30 
6-8 


17 
12-16 


1,500 

COO 

7,000 


Last Thursday in June. 
Last "Wednesday in June. 


fi'i 














«r 


P. E 






























67 
































(iR 


Bant 






























GO 

7n 


TJ.S .. 

Con"- 


7 


3 


4 


1 


1 




160 


128 


41 


169 


o24 


14 




2d "Wednesday in June. 


71 
































79 
































73 
74 


State .. 

M.E... 
Pros . . . 
Bapt... 


13 

6 

ID 


50 


46 


26 


27 


23 


136 


277 

80 
226 


31 
70 


308 

150 
220 


Free . . . 

9 

10 


16 

IG 
14 


5,000 

2,000 
12, 000 


Thursday preceding 4th of 

July. 
June '7. 


75 
7fi 


138 


33 


27 


10 


18 




3d Thursday in June. 


77 
78 
7il 
80 
81 
82 

83 

84 


ileth .. 
Luth .. 
M.E... 
Pros . . . 
TT.B... 
Chr ... 

Cbr ... 
Meth.. 
Bapt... 
E.C ... 

Pr 

R.C ... 


7 

'5 

7 
7 
22 

5 
C 
9 

Ol) 


29 
CO 
77 
47 
17 
113 

16 


84 
41 

C8 
23 

13 

2 


4 

15 

39 

9 

1 

5 

2 


6 
10 

32 
16 

3 

2 


4 
13 
33 

2 
9 


34 

'"84 

53 

201 

15C 

129 


105 

148 
298 
157 
149 
219 

100 
195 


56 

35 

'74 
80 

51 
115 


161 

143 
333 

ir.7 

223 

209 

1.51 
310 


4-15 

o24 

10 

Free . . . 

18 
14 

6-10 


15 

a60 

14-20 

al44 

072-117 

18 

16 


"3,000 
10, 000 
G,400 

300 


Juno 21. 

Septenlber 1. 

June' 21. 

4th Thursd.ay in .Tuno. 

2d Tuesday in June. 

Juno 24. 

2d "Wednesday in Juno. 


8i 














7-15 

iiiriO 

MOO 

15 


14 


'ii,'6oo 

3,300 
4,000 




8(i 














421 
131 
56 


77 


421 

208 

50 


Last "Wednesday in June. 
Juno 26. 


87 


S 


n-i 


7 
7 


10 

8 


4 
15 


1 

7 


51 




88 
80 


7 


19 


15 


Last Thursday in June. 


>m 




















, 












11 
































0" 


Bant . . . 






























93 
94 

95 


P.fe ... 
Luth... 


7 
C 


103 

86 


4 

28 


3 
12 


5 
5 


2 
5 




117 
136 




117 
136 


16 

Free... 


14 

7 


4,000 
1,000 


3d "Wednesday in June. 
About June 15. 


16 


Luth... 
M.E... 
Cong... 
M.E... 
State... 
M.E... 
M.E... 
Bapt. . . 
Fr 


2 
10 
12 
13 
30 
16 
9 
7 














53 

86 
174 

80 
229 
159 
233 


63 

84 
108 

ll^ 
100 
111 


118 
170 
232 
159 
345 
268 
304 










fl- 


141 

48 
122 
136 
118 
102 


17 
13 

4 
52 
15 
31 


7 
13 

3 
42 
14 

6 


5 
G 

28 
G 
C 






9 

20 

9 

5 

Free . . . 

7 


13 

8-lG 
10-16 
12-20 
12-16 
12-16 


4,000 
7, Olio 
200 
5,000 
1, 500 
4, 000 


4th Tuesday in June. 
2d Arodnesday in July. 
2d "Wednesday in Juno. 
Last AVeduesday in June, 
3d Wednesday in June. 
3d Tuesday in June. 


og 

99 
100 
ini 
102 

im 


9 
o 

9 
11 

5 


193 
26 
78 
104 
214 


104 




























105 


Unit . . . 






























101) 
10" 


Con"... 
!:.C ... 
M.E... 


G 

8 


8 


9 


4 


2 




176 


114 
51 


85 


199 
51 


7 
6200 


16 


2,500 
1,200 


2d "Wednesday in June. 


lOR 


















109 
110 


Pres... 
State .. 
Bapt . . . 


6 
9 


77 


10 


G 




3 




55 
97 


45 
116 


100 
213 


7-12 


3-4 


4,000 


June 20. 


111 






















113 
114 


Con;;. .. 
U.B... 

iiVc"." 

Pros... 
State... 


8 
3 
12 
9 


25 


6 




2 




35 


53 


15 


68 

no 


O30 

O30 

3 

6200 
o40 

alOO 


16-80 


2,000 


3d "Wednesday in Juno. 


115 


22 


9 


5 






259 iRRi07 


.10^ 


7-10 


600 


2d "Wednesday in July. 
2d Friday in June. 
Last Thursday in June. 
Ist Monday in September, 


Ilfi 








162 
165 
112 




162 
165 
112 


117 
118 


7 
7 


95 
15 


17 
43 


20 
34 


8 
11 


7 
9 


18 


16-20 
O250 


5,500 



41 C E 



450 KEPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OP EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF COLLEGES AND COLLEGIATE 



^^ame. 



Location. 



President 



110 
120 
121 

122 

1S3| 

124' 

125! 

126 

1' 

128 

120 

130 
131 
132 
133 
134 

13; 

136 
137 
138 
139 
140 
141 
142 
143 
144 
14;. 
14: 

14; 

148 

149 
150 
151 
152 
153 
154 
155 
15C 
15 
158 
159 
160 

161 
162 
1G3 
104 
103 
160 
107 
109 
1C9 
170 
171 
172 
173 
174 
175 
170 
177 
178 
179 
laO 
181 
182 
183 
18+ 
185 



Georjrctown CoUoge 

Kelituckv University 

St. M.arv's College 

I'.itlii 1 I'lilloffe 

Thniiip.snn University 

Loni.si;ui.i State University. . . 

Baton Kinicre College 

St. Cliarl.s ('., liege 

Centenary College 

Mount Lebanon University 

College of tlie ImmaculatoCon- 
ceptiou. 

Lehiinl University , 

Strai;;lit University 

,Ii flVr.s, ,11 College 

Jjowdoiu College 

Bates ('ollege 

Colby University 

St. John's College 

Loyola College 

Washington Ccpllege 

Kock Hill College 

St. Cli;irlesColl,-ge 

Monnt St. ilary'.s College 

Mount St. Clement's College ,. 

Calv.Tt College 

Borronieo College 

Frederick College 

Western Maryland College 

Amher.'^t College 

Bo.ston <'rdlege 

I larvnrd College 

Tufts College 

Williams College 

College of the Holy Cross 

Adrian College 

Albion CuUege 

M iebiL'an University 

St. rliilip's College 

Hillsdale College 

Hope College 

K.alamazoo College 

Olivet College 



St. John's College 

Carleton College 

University of Minnesota. 
Siinple-Broaddns College . 

Mississippi College 

Khaw Ifniversity 

Alcorn T^niversity 

Oakland College.'. 

University ot Mississippi- 
Pass ( 'liristian College 

Madi.s.iii Colleg,. 

Tongaloo I'iii\'ersity 

Jefferson CoHcl'o 

St, Vine.nt's College 

University of Missouri . . . 

Central College 

"W"estiuinster College 

Lewis College _ 

Jefferson City College. . .. 
William Jewell College. . . 

Palm\'ra Co' ege 

St. Cliarles College 

Grand Kiver College 

Woodland College 

Lincoln College 



Georgetown. Ky 

Lexington. Ky' 

Marion County, Ky 

lUissellville, liy 

Baldwin, La 

Baton Rouge, La 

do 

Grand Coteau, La 

Jackson, La 

Mount Lebanon, La 

New Orleans, La 



do 

, do 

St. Michael, La 

Brunswick, Me 

Lewiston. Me 

.WaterviUe, Me 

Annapolis, Md 

Baltimore, Aid 

Chestertown, Md 

Ellicott City, Md 

do...-:. 

Emmittsburgb, Md... 

Ilchester, Md 

New Windsor, Md. .. 

Pikesville, Md 

Frederick City, Md. . . 
Westminster, Md . . . . 

Amherst. Mass 

Boston, Mass 

Cambridge, Mass 

College Hill. Mass . . . 
Williamstown, Mass . 

Worcester. Mass 

Adrian, Mich 

Albion, Mich 

Ann Arbor, Mich 

Detroit, Mich 

Hillsdale, Mich 

Holland, Mich 

K.alama7.oo, Mich 

Olivet, Mich 



Clinton, Minn 

Northiield, Minn 

St. Anthony, Minn . . . 

Centre Hill. Miss 

Clinton, Miss , 

Holly Springs, Miss. . 

Jaclison. Miss 

Oakland. Miss 

Oxford. Miss 

Pass Christian, Misa. 

Sharon, Miss 

Near Tongaloo, Miss . 
Washington. Miss ... 
Cape Girardeau, Mo. . . 

Columbia. Mo 

Favette, Slo 

Furton, Mo 

Glasgow, Mo 

Jefferson (^ity, Mo 

Liberty, Slo .' 

Palmvra, Mo 

St. Charles, Mo 

Edinburgh, Mo 

Independence, Mo 

Greenwood, Mo 



183S 
1859 
1820 
1650 
1807 
1800 
1838 
18.'->! 
184! 
1853 
1848 



Basil Manly, jr., D. D 

J. B. Bowman, A. M., regent . 
Pvcv. L. Eleud. C. E., LL. D.. 

N.K.D.avis, LL. D 

W.S. Wilson 

D.F.Boyd 



1869 



PlOV.J. Eoduit, S.J... 
W. n. W.atkin.s, D. D. 
S. C. McCormicklo . . . 
Ecv. J. Gautrelet 



E. E.S. Taylor, D.D. 



1802 
1803 
1820 
1784 
1852 
1782 
185- 
1848 
1830 
1808 
1852 
1800 
1796 
186' 
1821 
1803 
1638 
18.55 
1793 
1843 
1858 
1860 
1841 



J. L. Chamberlain, LL. D 

liev. O. B. Cheney, D. D 

J. T.Ch.amplin, 'D. D 

J.M. Garnett, M.A 

liev. S A. Kelly, S.J 

i;. C. Berkelev,' A. M 

Brother EetteUn 

Rev. S. F6rt6, D.D 

Very Rev. J. McCaffrey, D. D. . 
Eev. F. Van de Eraak, C. S., S. E 

A. H. Baker, A. M 

Eev. E. Q. S. Waldron 

J. S. Bonsall, A. M 

J. T.Ward, D.D 

W. A. Stearns, D. D., LL. D . . .. 

Eev. E. Fulton, .S. J 

C. W. Eliot, LL. D 

A.A.Miner, D.D 

Eev. M. Hopkins, D. D., LL. D. . . 

Eev. A. F. Ciampi 

A. H. Lowrie, A. M 

G. B. .Tocelvn, D. D 

J.B. Angeil, LL. D 



1855 
1855 



D.M.Graham, D. D 

Philip Phelps, D. D 

Eev. K. Brooks, D. D 

Eev. N. J. Morrison, D. D. 



1860 

1808 

185- 

1851 

1871 

1871 

1830 

1848 

Ir'On 

18.511 

18711 

1813 

1843 

1843 

1854 

1853 

186' 

186' 

1848 

1848 

1850 

18; 

1869 

1869 



Eev. .1. W. Strong, D. D 

W. W. Folwell, M. A 

W. W. Hawkins, A. M 

Eev. W. Hillman, A. M 

Ecv. A. C. McDonald, A. M 

Kev. H. E. Eevels 

W. L. Breckenridgc, D. D 

J. N. Waddell. D. D 

lirotber Isaiah 

l:.v. .1. M. Pilgh, A.M 

K. Tucker, A.lkl 

Prof Hamilton 

Eev. J. Alizeri 

Daniel Eeail, LL. D 

Rev. J. C. Will.s, A.M 

Eev. N. L. Eiee, D. D 

Eev. T. A. Parkei , A. M., M. D. .. 

Eev. W. H. D. Ilatton 

Rev. T. Ranihaut, LL. D., S. T. P 

Rev. J. A. Waiuwright, A. M 

J. J. Potts, A. M 

J. E. Vetrees 

W. A.Bnckner 

G. S. Bryaut .... 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 



457 



DEPAETMENXS Hf THE TJNITED STATES, &C.— Continned. 





f 

< 
! 

i " 

a j 
§ I 

R i 


Students. 


Cost of— 


t4 

3 
2 

a 

"3 
> 

o 

a 




1 


5 1 

il 

" >> 

3 S 

i £■ 


§ 

a 

.a 
1 
43 


1 

o 


2 

o 

'3 


2 

O 

1 


2 

p. 

o 

.| 

II 

s 


a 


t 

a 


H 

1 


■3 

H 


.a 

a 
o 

a 

P4 
(-1 


Time of commencement. 




Bapt... 

State 2 


7 47 

R 


3G 


11 


8 


.... 


145 

216 

58 




145 

216 
58 
60 
55 

184 


a$45 
a3U 
6200 


$18-20 
20 


5,500 
10, 000 


2(1 Thursday in June. 
2d Tlinrsday in June. 
1st Tlinrsday in September. 


121 
Vii 
123 
124 


1 It C . . . . 














' Bant 














69 






m'e.:;- 

state... 1 


a 55 

8 28 












30 
184 


25 






1,000 
7,000 




10 


e 


5 


5 


128 


alOO 


0200 


Last "Wednesday in June, 


v>r 


R.C....1 

Metli 


T 












85 


... 


85 


KOO 






2d "Wednesday in Augnet 


1"" 


















l*'fl 


Bapt 




























loq 


K. C 




























nn 


Bapt 




























131 




n 
















1054 




































133 
134 

135 
13G 
137 


Cong ..2 

r. B... 

Bapt... 
State .. 1 
I!.C....l 
State .. 
K.C....2 
u.r, 1 


6... 
J ... 

0| 7C 
31.38 
2 10 



60 
24 
20 
24 
8 
9 


38 
23 
K 

5 


37 
27 
11 
IC 

1 


20 
14 
8 
6 
3 


.... 


161 

87 
51 
138 
18 
33 
lOG 
100 
129 


"l 

1 


101 

83 
52 
138 
158 
33 
ICG 
ICO 
129 


oGO 
o30 
10 
6250 
a75 
40-60 
6260 
6180 
6310 


10-16 

a7C-114 

12 


34, 150 
7,100 

12, 000 
3,001 

21, 500 
1,000 


2d Wednesday in .July. 
Last "Wednesday in J une. 
Last Thursday in July. 
Last Wednesday in July. 


138 


16 


2d Wednesday in July. 
Last Thursday in June. 
July. 


140 


•i 














4, or.o 
5,000 
1,200 


i4il li.r;- -11 


1 92 


18 


7 


7 


5 




Las't Wednesday in Jime. 


^4.-, 


K.C 




143 


R.C.... 
R.C.... 


R 












59 




59 


6240 




Last Tuesday in June. 


144 


















145 


State .. 
M. P...1 
Cong... 2 
E. C .. 1 

. . 7 


3 












103 
84 
261 
140 
043 
74 
141 
140 
99 
108 
458 


43 

oi 

09 
25 


103 
127 
201 
140 
643 
74 
141 
140 
ICO 
177 
483 


a30 

020-110 

25 




1,200 
2, (00 
35, COO 




146 
147 

14H 


74 

... 
U118 
6... 
4 ... 

1 ... 
3 96 
) 80 
5137 
3 ... 


30 
71 
9 
189 
14 
32 
20 

11 
160 


13 

70 
o 

139 
15 
26 
11 
5 
7 
93 


6 

49 

9 


4 
65 


■-2 
35 

20 

"fiO 
69 


18 
14-24 


3d Thursday in Juno 

2a Thursday in July. 


140 


122 '.'^8 


al5o' «l-'>"'^ 304 


187 000 




150 
151 


TTniv .. 1 
Cong .. 1 
R.C ... 1 
M. P.. 

M. E .. 
State . . 3 


17 
40 
U 
3 
9 
77 


8 
43 

5 
13 

84 


O60 

25 

6250 


also 
14-24 


12, 000 
12, 000 


3d Wednesday in July. 
Last Thursda'y in June. 


153 
154 
155 

IW 


a20 
Free . . . 
Free . . . 


12 

12 

8-20 


■"i,'66o 

25, 000 


3d Thursday in June. 
Last Thursday in June. 
Last Wednesday in June. 


157 

1W 


F. w. ii i 


1313 


19 


15 


9 


9 


220 


305 


-'20 


565 


alOO 


8-12 


3,000 


2d Thursday in Juno. 


^^1 


Bapt... 1 
Cong . . 1 


2175 
27 


8 
14 


4 
17 


4 
6 


11 
3 


7 
160 


138 
134 


71 
99 


209 
233 


6 
7 




2, Olio 
4,000 


3d Wednesday in June. 
Last Thursday but one in 
June. 


ICO 

ini 


14-20 


KW 


Cong... ; 
State .. £ 
Bapt. . 


5'^ 


3 


1 








41 
342 


15 
93 


50 
335 


8 


11 

IC 


9G8 
3,558 




1(i3 








Last Thursday in June. 


in4 
















165 
166 


Bapt — ■ 
M.E... . 


120 


12 


11 


7 


3 


.... 


153 




153 


a50 


15-17 




Last Tuesday in June. 


167 






























168 


Pres .... 




























169 

no 


State . . 10 
E.C ...14 
2 


11 


15 


20 


13 


18 


34 


111 
142 
47 




111 
142 
47 


Free . . . 

6330 

O30-50 


18 




Last Thursday in Juno. 


171 


40 


5 


2 






ft.. 


50-20 
10 


540 


3d Thur.sday in July. 


179 


e 


173 


























174 


R.C 




























175 

176 


State .. 12 
M.E.S. 6 
Pres... 6 
M.E... 4 
P.E 


118 
13 


48 


20 


22 


9 


'gi 


177 

104 
90 

58 


40 
34 


217 
104 
90 
92 


o40 

25 

o50 

a40 


12-20 
16 
13 

al50 


5,000 
"2,060 


Last "Wednesday in Jnn& 
Opens Scptemlicr 21. 
3d Thursi'.ay in .luue. 
4th Thursday m June. 
1st Wednesday iu J uno. 


177 

178 
171 


... 




... 




180 


Bapt... 1 
P.E ... a 
M.E.S. 2 

2 














152 




152 
CO 


aOO 


12-16 


4,000 
800 


181 
















182 
























183 


















100 
93 
40 










184 


6 


























185 


3 


... 






... 




.... 















458 EEPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 

• STATISTICS OF COLLEGES AND COLLEGIATE 



Xame, 



186 
187 
168 
189 
100 
101 
192 
193 
194 
195 
ISC 
197 
198 
199 
200 
SOI 
203 
203 
204 
205 

20G 
207 
208 
209 
210 
211 

212 
213 
214 
215 
216 
217 
218 
219 

2sa 

221 

222 

223 
224 
225 
22C 

227 

223 
229 
230 
231 
232 
233 
234 
233 
230 
237 
238 
239 
240 
241 
242' 
24:"i| 
244 
245 
S40 
247 
84^ 



St, Paul's College 

Bethel Collese 

Hannibal College 

McGee College 

Jolinaon College 

St. Joseph's College 

St. Louis TTiiiveisity 

\\';tsl]i[ii;Ion I'iii\"eisity .... 
Collri^iot tlieCliiist'u brothers 

Cougieuatiniial College 

Nebra.^'iia College 

Dartmouth College 

Burlington College 

Rutgers College 

College of Now Jersey 

Seton Hall College 

Alircd University 

Franeiscan College 

St. Stephen's College 

Brooklyn Collegiate and Poly- 
technic Institute. 

St. John B.aptiat's College 

Canisius College 

St. Joseph's College 

Martin Luther College 

St. Lawrence University 

Ilamilton College 



St. John'.H College 

Uobart College 

Mailison University 

Cornell University 

Genesee College 

College of the City of New York 

College of St. Francis Xavier. . 

Columbia College 

Slanhattan College 

University of the City of New- 
York. 

St. Joseph's College 

University of Kochester 

Union College 

Syracuse University 

liensselaer Polytechnic Insti- 
tute. 

University of North Carolina.. 

Wake Forest College 

Kutherforil College 

OlinColh-go 

Davidson College 

North Carolina College 

Trinity College 

IJuchtel College 

Ohio University 

Baldwin University 

German W.allaco College 

St. Xavier College 

Mount St. M:irv'.s of the West 

Fannrrs- C"1N ge 

Capitol rnivei.sity 

Ken von College - 

Denison University 

Uarlcin Sprin'i.s College 

We.stini Itc servo College 

St. Louis College 

Marietta College 

Mount Union College 



Location. 



P.tlmyra, Mo 

Palmyra, Mo 

Hannibal. Mo 

College Mound. Mo. 

Macon City, Mo 

St. Joseph, Mo 

St. Louis, Mo 

do. 



St. Louis, Mo 

Fontenelle, Nebr 

Nebraska City, Nobr. . 

Hanover, N. li 

Bui'lington, N. J 

New Brunswick, N. J . 

Princeton, N. J 

South Or.ango, N. J ... 

Alfred, N. Y 

Allegheny, N. Y 

Anuandale, N. Y 

Brooklyn, N.Y 



do 

Buflfalo, N. Y . 

do 

do 

Canton, N. Y . 
Clinton, N. Y . 



Fordham, N. Y 

Geneva, N.Y 

Hamilton, N.Y 

Ithaca, N.Y 

Lim.a, N. Y 

New York City, N. Y. 

do '. 

do , 



.do . 
-do. 



Rhineelitr, N. Y.... 
Eochestcr, N. Y . . . 
Schenectady, N. Y. 

Syracuse, N. Y 

Troy,N.Y 



1869 
1848 
1863 
1834 
18C8 
1867 
1832 
1857 
1857 



1808 
1709 
1846 
1770 
1740 
1850 
1830 



Chapel Hill, N. C 

Forestville, N. C 

Happy Home P. O., N. C 

Iredeill'ountv, N. C 

Meeklrnburgh County,N.C 
Mount Pleasant, N. 0.-- 
Randolph Count.y, N. 0. . 

Akron, Ohio 

Athens, Ohio 

Bere.a, Ohio 

Cincinnati, Ohio 

do 

do 

College Hill, Ohio 

Columbus, Ohio 

Gambier, Ohio 

Granville, Ohio......... 

ITailem Springs, Ohio 

Hudson. tHiio 

Loui.s\ ille, Ohio 

Marietta, Ohio 

Mount Union, Ohio 



1800 
I8D4 

1870 
1870 
180; 
1853 
1850 
1812 

1840 

la 

1819 
1803 
1849 
18.->4 
184' 
1754 
1663 
1831 



1850 
1795 
1870 



1795 
1834 
1870 
1853 
183' 
18.59 
1850 



1804 
1856 
1803 
1842 

leni 

1846 

ie: 

1831 

186- 
1820 
1860 
1835 
1846 



President. 



Eev. E. Hose, A. M 

Eev. W. B. Corbin 

J. F. Hamilton 

J.B.Mitchell 

E. W.Hall 

Brother Agatho 

Eev. J. a. Zealand, S. J. 

W. G. Eliot, D. D 

Brother Edward 



Eev. J. McNamara, D, D 

Eev. A. D. Smith, D. D., LL, D. . . 
Et. Eev.W. H. Odenheimer, D. D. 
Eev. W.H.Campbell, D. D., LL. D. 
Eev. J. McCosh, D. D., LL. D . .. 
Very Rev. M. A. Corrigan, D. D. 
Rev. J. Allen 



Eev. E. B. Fairb.iirn, D. D 

D. H. Cochran, Ph. D., LL. D . . 



Eev. J. T. Landry, C. M 

Rev. W. Becker, S. J 

Brother Frank 

Eev. J. F. Winkler 

E. Fisk, ir., D. D 

Eev. S. G. Brown, D. D., LL. D. 



Eev. J. Shea, S. J 

Eev. J. Eankino, D. D . . 
E. Dodge, D. D., LL. D . 
A. D. White, LL.D 



A.S. Webh.LL. D 

Eev. H. Hudon, S. J 

F. A. P. Barnard, S. T. D., LL. D. 

Brother Patrick 

Howard Crosby, D. D 



Eev. M. J. Scully 

M. B. Anilerson.'LL. D. 
Rev. E. N. Potter, D. D. 
D. Steele, D. D, (acting) . 



S. Pool 

W. M. Winsate, D. D 

Eev. E. L. Aberuethy, A. M . . . . 

J. Southinite 

Eo f . G. W. McPhaU, D. D., LL. D 

Eev. L. A. Bikle. A. M 

Eev. B. Craven, D. D 

Eev. H. F. Miller, Sec 

Rev, S. Howard, D. D., LL. D. . .. 

W. D. GoduKin, D. D 

W.Nast,D.D. 

Eev. T. O'Neil 

F. J. Pabi.sh, D. D., LL. D., D.C.L 

CD. Curtis . 

Eev. W. F. Lehm.an 

E. T. Tapp.an 

Eev. S. Talbot, D. D 



C. Cutler A. 51 

F. Hours 

L W. Andrews, D. D 

Eev. 0. N. Hartshorn, LL. D. 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 



459 



DEPAKTMENTS IN THE UNITED STATES, &c.— Continued. 





1 

z 

.1 - 
1 1 

a s 
S 1 


Students. 


Cost of— 


s 

a 

1 

1 




B 
a 
'A 


a 

a 
S. 

a 



rt 

1 
1^ 


i 
a 


1 



s 

1 


en 



'5 
s 


2 



'a 


1 
c . 

5 




a 


■a 
1 


§ 
1 


a 


Time of commencement. 


iRn 




H 
















70 
80 
80 
213 
80 










1R7 




















.1 












4 
























IPO 


1 






























1 
























101 


n c 


























19"^ 


II. c... 2 

2 


2124 
7104 


21 
10 


6 
6 


7 
5 


3 

4 


'ish 


ICl 
314 




161 
314 


6380 
o43 




10, 000 
6,000 


Last Thursday in June. 
3d Thursday in June. 


lOT 






It c 




10"i 






























mo 

197 
198 
199 
200 
"01 


r.E"... 

Coni;. .. 3 
P.E ... 
Itef....l 
Prc-s...l 
K.C ...1 
Bapt...3 


5 9 
3... 
5 












20 
3C0 




29 
360 


6S280 




1,500 
44, 900 




CO 


75 


78 


69 


78 


?10-16 


Last Thursday in June. 


3195 

8..- 

5S 

1 9li 


54 
87 
14 
33 


47 

100 

8 

"' 


56 

87 

8 

15 


33 
95 
12 
5 


328 


383 
380 
130 
130 


233 


385 
380 
130 
408 


a75 

a140 

6400 

10 


16-24 
16-24 


'30,' 01)0 
8,000 
6,000 


3d Wednesday in June. 
Last Wednesday iu -Tune. 


203 
"03 


G-13 


1st Wednesday in July. 


204 
"Ol 


P.E... 

2 


8 27 
6 438 


14 


10 


15 


8 


134 


71 
562 




74 
562 


Free . . 
al20 


a225 


1,800 
3,000 


1st Thursday in July. 
3d Wednesday in Juno, 


•mn 


K C 














P^C ... 

n.c ...1 

liUth 


n 












C2 
291 


... 


C2 
291 


aSO 
6220 








"0^ 


4 














2,000 


July 2. 


"no 
















210 
211 

0]0 


Univ ..1 
Pies . . . 1 

Pv.C ...2 
P.E ... 
Uapt 1 

Citv ... 3 
K. b 2 
P.E ...1 
K.t! ...4 

; 


3... 

3... 

1 


11 
4j 


14 

39 


G 
39 


10 
41 


6 


27 
1G4 

265 
39 
1G5 
4B0 
48 
723 
477 
117 
631 
107 


20 

"s 


47 
164 

265 
.39 
105 
490 
50 
723 
477 
117 
031 
107 


a25 
20 

6300 

15 

030 

a45 


12 
0114-190 

""iij^ib 

12 

o330 


6, 066 
12, COO 

"is," 660 

10, 434 
30,000 
5,300 
2fl, 000 
14, 000 
2,000 
6, 500 
3,000 


Last "Wcdncsclny in June. 
Tlinrstlay after last Tues- 
day in'JiiDe. 


213 

214 
215 

"in 


9... 

2 51 

8... 
4 .. 
410 
5371 
2 

3 448 


14 
34 

10 
8 
1.03 
37 
31 

27 


3 

24 

"0 
72 
29 
33 
29 
31 


15 

40 
4 
10 
49 
17 
33 
15 
21 


7 
10 
5 
7 
39 
10 
39 
11 
28 


'449 
25 

107 

ioi 


2(1 Thurstlny aftcr41hJuly. 
3(1 Wednesday in Juuo. 
4tb Thursday iu Juno. 
2d Thursday in July. 


"n 


Free 




"H 


aOO 




Last. Monday in Juno. 


910 




Last Wednesday in June. 

Juno 30. 

2d Thui'sday before July 4. 


230 


a50 


30 


0.70 


Pv. C ... . 






223 
224 
225 
""fi 


Bapt. . . 
Prc3...l 
M.E... 
1 


9... 
G... 
7... 

9 


23 
20 
29 


23 
25 

8 


IB 

25 

G 


24 
19 
17 


33 


131 
89 
51 


"9 


131 
81 
GO 


20 
15 
20 


14-20 
13-20 
18-20 


'iii.'coo 
1,395 


Last Wednesday in Juno. 
Wednesday belore 4th July, 
4th Thursday in Juno. 


237 


StatB . . 
Eapt... 
Moth .. 


«... 













55 
100 
95 


38 


55 
100 
123 


(j40 
o70 
a30 


12 
10-12 
7-10 


21, 700 

8,000 

200 


2d Thursday in June. 
4th Thursday in Juno. 
1st Wedntsday in Auyrist. 


n.i(i 


7 14 










109 


"30 










231 
232 
233 

"34 


Pres... 
Luth .. 
M.E.S. 


7... 

5 70 

6 23 


"0 
34 


30 

C 

21 


IG 

'ie 


32 

2 
10 




"54 


'11 
165 




113 
165 


a45 

020-40 

aC3 


14 

8-10 
10-13 


3,000 
1,200 


Last Thursday in June. 
Last Thursday in May. 
3d Thursday in June. 


"31 


State .. 
M.E...1 
M.E... 
R.C ...1 
U.C ...1 
Moth 


5 67 
1 20 

5... 
7188 
6... 


9 
5 

'34 


C 
3 

'21 


5 
3 

'i- 


5 
6 

"9 


29 
1C9 


121 
110 

74 
269 

80 


'96 
19 

... 


131 
306 

93 
2119 

80 


10 
021 
4-9 
aOO 




5,000 

1,000 

600 

12,000 

10, 000 


Last Friday in June. 


930 




"37 




Second Thursday iu Juno. 
Last Wednesday in Juno, 
Juno 24. 


"3S 




230 
"40 


IC 


241 


Liith... . 




























243 
243 
944 


P.E...1 
Bapt . . . 


2 47 
8 49 


13 

22 


13 

14 


9 

13 


10 

7 


"97 


92 
202 




93 
202 


043 
o34 


12-16 
12 


18, 330 
10, 500 


Last TJuirsday in June. 
Last Thursday in June. 


V4'i 




1 42 


10 


17 


20 


14 


.... 


lOD 




109 


030 


10-16 


10, 000 


Last Wednesday in June. 


'>At 


R.C .. 


247 
243 


C.& P. 
M. E...1 


9 92 
9 30 


35 
172 


26 
93 


13 

40 


17 

54 


'375 


183 

418 


246 


183 
664 


o38 
13 


10-16 

0108 


23, 350 
3,400 


Wednesday before July 4. 
Last Thursday in July. 



4C0 REPORT OP THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF COLLEGES AND COLLEGIATK 



249 

230 

2.'il 

252 

253 

254 

251 

250 

257 

258 

25a 

260 

261 

262 

263 

264 

265 

2li6 

268 

269 

270 

271 

272 

273 

274 

2- 

270 

27' 

276 
279 

2B0 
281 
282 
283 
284 
285 
2SG 
287 
2Si 
289 
290 
291 

292 
293 
294 
295 
290 
297 

298 
299 
30O 
301 
S02 
303 
304 
305 
306 
3.17 
308 
309 

'.310 



^ame. 



Franlilin CoUejio 

Musliin^nni CoUego 

Oberlin College 

Miami TTniversity 

Kicbmond College 

Wittenberg College 

Heidelberg College 

Urbaiia University 

Otterbein University 

Willoughby College 

University of Wooster 

Antioeh College 

Wilberforco University 

Senia College 

Ohio Wesleyan University 

Kcw Market College 

Ohio Central College 

Hiram College 

Pacific University 

Oregon College 

Willamette University 

Hulv Angels College 

Pbiloniath College 

Avery College 

Muhlenberg College 

Andalusia College 

Lebanon Valley College 



Moravian College 

Dicliinson College 

Augustinian College of Villa- 
nova. 

Lafayette College 

Penlisvlvania College 

Franldin and Marshall College 

Lcwisburgh University 

St. Francis College 

Allegheny College 

Mereersburgh College 

Palatinate College 

Westminster College 

Lincoln University 

Maimonides College 

Department of Arts, University 
of rrnnsvlvania. 

La Salle ( -olle^'P 

St..Josri,li\sC(,llege , 

Western l.'niver.sity 

Lehiirh University 

Swartlimore College , 

Washington and Jefferson Col- 
lege. 

Wayiiesbnrgh College 

Uaverford College 

St. Vincent's t'ollego 

Ursinus College 

IJrnvt'u University 

College of ('liarle.ston ... 

University of South Carolina. 

Furnian University 

Clafiin University 

Woflbrd College 

Newberry College 

East Tclmessee Wesleyap 
University. 

King College 



Location. 



New Athens. Ohio — 
New Concord, Ohio — 

Oberlin, Ohio 

Orford.Ohio 

Richmond, Ohio 

Springfield, Ohio 

TilBn.Ohio 

Urbana, Ohio 

Westerville, Ohio 

Willoughby, Ohio 

Wooster. Ohio 

Yellow Springs, Ohio. 

Near Xenia, Ohio 

Senia, Ohio 

Delaware, Ohio 

Scio P. O.. Ohio 

Iberia, Ohio 

Hiram, Ohio -.. 

Forest Grove, Oreg. . . 

Oregon City, Oreg 

S-alem, Oreg 

Vancouver, Oreg 

Philomath, Oreg 

AlleghenyCity, Pa. .. 

AUentow'n, Pa 

And.alusia, Pa 

Annvillo, Pa 



Bethlehem, Pa 

Carlisle, Pa 

Delaware County, Pa. 



Easton, Pa 

Gcttysburgh, Pa 

Lancaster. Pa 

Lcwisburgh, Pa 

Loretto, Pa 

Meadville. Pa 

Mercer.sbirriih, Pa 

MyerstowD, Pa 

New Wilmington, Pa... 

Oxford, Pa 

Philadelphia, Pa 

do 



do 

.. ..do 

Pittsburgh, Pa 

Soutli l;ethlilirm, Pa.. 

Swart huiore, Pa 

Washington, Pa 



Wayneahurgh, Pa 

West Oaverford, Pa 

Westmoreland County, Pa 

Freeland, Pa 

Providence, R. I 

Charleston, S. C 

Columbia, S. C 

Greenville, S, C 

Orangeburgh, S. C 

Spartanburgh C. H., S. C. . . 

W.alhalla. S. C 

Athens, Tenn 



Bristol, Tenn 1869 Kev. J. D. Tadlock 



182: 
1837 
1834 
1809 
1833 
18(4 
185(1 
1852 
1837 
1855 
1870 
1854 
1863 
1850 
1842 
1859 
1854 
1867 
1859 
1830 
1853 



1807 
1801 
1866 

1807 
1783 
1848 

1820 

1832 

1853 

184' 

1850 

181 

1805 

iwa 

1854 



1733 

1802 
18.52 
1819 
1866 
1809 
1802 

1830 
1833 
1840 
1869 
1764 
1787 
1801 
1851 
1869 
1851 
1859 
1807 



President. 



A. F. P^ss, LL. D 

Rev. D. Paul, A. M 

Rev. J. II. Fairchild, D. D . . 

Rev. A. D. Hepburn 

L. W.Ong.A.M 

Rev. S. Sprecher, D. D 

Rev. G. W. Willard, D. D . . . 

Rev. F. Sewall, A. M , 

Rev. L. Davis, D. D 

L.O.Lee 

Eev. W. Lord, D. D 

G. W. Eosmcr, D. D 

Rt. Rev. D. A. Payne, D. D . 

Wm. Smith, A. M 

Rev. F. Merrick, D. D 

A.D.Lee.A.M 

E.F.Reed 

B. A. Hinsdale, A. M 

Rev. S. U. Marsh, D. D 

G. C. Chandler, D. D 

T. M. Gatch, A. M 



Prof Biddle . 



Rev. F. A. Muhlenberg, D. D . 

Rev. H. T. Wells, LL. D 

L. n. n-ammond, A. M 



Rt. Rev. E. de Schweinitz, D. D.. 

Rev. R. L. D.ishiell, D. D 

Very Rev. P. A. Stanton, 0. S. A 



Rev. W. C. Cattell, D. D . . 

M.Valentine, D.D 

Rev. J. W. Nevin, D. D . . . 
Rev. J. R. Loomis, LL. D . 

Rev. A. J. Brownam 

Uev. G. Loomis, D. D 

Rev. E. E. Higby, D.D.. 
Rev. n. R.Nicks, A.M... 

R. A. Brown, D. I) 

Rev. L N. RendaU, D. D . . 



C.J.Still<i,LL.D. 



Brother Oliver 

Rev. P. A. Jordan, S.J. 

G. Woods. LL.D 

n. Coppee, LL. D 

E. U. McGill 

Rev. G. P. Hays, D. D . 



A. B. Miller, D. D 

S. J. Gummere, A.M 

Rev. A. Heimler, O. S. B 

J. H. A. Bomberger, D. D 

Rev. A. Caswell, D. D., LL. D. . 

N. R. Middleton 

Hon. R. W. Barnwell, LL. D... 

J.C.Furraan. D.D 

A. Webster, D. D 

Rev. A. M. Shipp, A. M., D. D . 

Rev. J. P. Smeltzer, A. M 

Rev. N. E. Cobleigh, D. D 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 

DEPAETMEKTS IS TITE TOUTED STATES, &c.— Continned. 



461 





§ 1 

! 1 


Students. 


Coat of-^ 


(-1 

a 

1 

■8 

125 




1 


a 

a 

1 



1 
1 


B 

1 




i 
1 




1 

a 

02 


i 

£ 

p. 



u 

a 

a 




m 

ZJ 
"n 
^ 


s 

■?. 

a 




i 

■1 

i 


"3 


a 

u 

04 


Time of commencement. 




U.P... 














58 


13 


71 


iiS30 


ei3-i6 




Last Thursday in Juno. 
















251 
25J 


Cons .. ". 
state .. 


0G78 
8 45 
4 20 
7 90 
9120 


61 
17 
31 

24 
18 


30 
18 
14 
19 

18 


30 
17 

7 
19 

5 


40 
19 
4 
17 
16 


328 056 
23,139 
25 55 


517 
'52 
'30 


1173 
139 
107 
1T7 
177 


3 

o45 

10 

a30 

o26 


10 

18-20 
12 
10 
10 


10, 000 
9,000 

"6,066 
4,800 


First 'Wednesday in Aug. 
Last Thursday in June. 
Third Wednesday in Jun& 


254 
255 

"nil 


Luth... 
IJcf ... 
N Ch 


8 


177 
147 


Last Thursday in June. 
June 21. 


257 


U.B... 


7 20 

8 37 



14 
33 


10 

18 


12 
11 


10 
4 


70 

18 


87 
49 


49 
03 


136 
111 

72 
215 
100 
176 
417 
155 

92 
169 

98 


olO 

8 

15 

n38 

5-7 

12 

a34 

13 

6130-200 

6200-300 

a33 


12 




1st Wednesd'y after May 2S. 
June 23. 


12-16 

10 

0I33 

6-13 

16 

14-18 

16 


3,000 

2,500 

4,700 

3,500 

350 

13,036 

500 

500 

2,000 

5,000 




Pres . . . 
Unit...l 
A.iI.E. 
MotU .. 
M.E... 




260 
2C1 


Cj 

8 88 
7 27 

9 74 

. ao 

4 


12 
2 


6 


4 
4 


3 
4 


125 



149 
151 


110 
02 
39 

417 

103 
63 

123 
64 


99 
38 
137 

'56 
29 
44 
34 


Last "Wednesday in June. 
June 21. 


2C3 


64 
100 


40 
21 


37 
14 


45 


Last Thursday in June, 


265 


U.P... 
Chr....l 






June 22. 


















"fifl 


7 33 


4 


2 


2 




57 


0180 


First Wednesday in Juno. 


269 


Bapt 




270 


M.E...i 


3 188 


9 


10 


1 


3 


45 


129 


127 


256 


15 


16-2 


650 


Tliird Thursday in June. 


07.) 




















70 






































274 


Lath... 
P. E...1 
U.B... 

Mor 


9 16 
1 35 
7 20 


18 
"6 


18 
13 
5 


13 
5 
5 


14 
4 


63 

"si 


142 

77 
93 


24 


142 
77 
117 


a45 
6300 
047 


Ol50 


2,800 
400 


Last Thursday in Jnne. 


276 
077 


16 


Last Thursday but one in 
June. 


278 
279 


M.E... 
E. C...1 

Pres...'. 
LutU .. 1 
G.R... 
Bapt... 
E.C .. 


8... 
5 


26 


31 


20 


18 


30 


125 
110 

231 
177 
124 
150 


io 


125 
110 

231 
177 
134 

156 


OlO 
6250 

15 

13 

13 

a3C 


io^ie 


23, 503 
4,000 

8,000 
17, 800 
8,000 
5,000 


Last Thursday in June. 
Last Wednesday in Jiuie^ 

3d "Wednesday in June. 
Last Thursday in Juno. 
Last Thur.sday in Juno. 
Last Tuesday in Jiinei 


280 
881 
282 

293 

W-1 


5 .. 

1 63 
7 59 

6 3G 


83 
34 
17 

29 


67 
20 
10 
15 


32 
31 

a? 

16 


38 
23 
14 
20 


11 

"46 


20-24 
0I37 
14-18 
ia-16 


283 


M.E... 
G.E... 
G.E... 
U.P... 
Prea... 


C 25 
6 63 
C.. 
6 ,52 
8 71 


21 
19 

'35 
34 


15 
10 

32 
23 


11 

8 

io 

18 


20 
2 

'31 
15 


"a 

"64 


83 
90 
233 
ICb 
158 


7 
14 
50 
64 


192 
2iO 
2S3 
130 
158 


""6200 

03-3 

a23 

10 


16 


12, 000 


June 20. 

2d "Wednesday in Juna. 
2d Tlmrsday in June. 
Last Thursday in June, 
3(1 "Wednesday in Juno. 


2rfT 
28S 
289 


0154 

8-16 

10 


600 

1,500 

28,000 


"11 


State . . 

E.C... 
R.C ... 

P.E... 

Fr 

Pres . . . 

C.P ... 

Ft 

K. C . . . 
Eef.... 
Bapt. . 


iC... 
5 


31 


30 


38 


20 


62 


187 

212 
340 
217 
UC 
134 
116 


94 


187 

212 
340 
217 
110 

238 

lie 

275 

51 

22" 

120 
225 
50 
7C 
5C 

lo: 

13( 

8e 
14; 

m 










O0-1 


06O-8O 

"ie^25 

Free . 
6350 
8 

oia 




3,000 
7,500 
2,600 
2,000 


End of June. 


«*n 


B 












10-15 
10-24 

20 


Ist Monday in July, 


204 

295 


10... 

15 48 

173 

10 39 

n 


11 

38 
30 
30 


27 
13 

18 
14 


17 
9 

7 
16 


9 

8 


153 


Last Tuesilay in Jime. 
Last Thursday in June. 


297 


19 




9-16 
12-14 


"'7,' 837 
6,000 

"38,' 666 
8, 000 

27, 000 


Wednesday before July 3, 

2d Thursday in Soptembei. 
July 12. 


•"Kl 


5... 

K 2; 
6 96 
13 .. 

5 


e 


10 


20 


13 


'264 


51 

S2- 

I2C 

22c 

"5( 

71 

5( 

7: 

13( 

8( 

10( 

16! 


... 
... 

30 
— 
.. 

43 

!.. 


ino 


ic 

a4f 
a7f 
a4C 
o4: 


1(1 

15 

13-3S 


Last Wednesday in Jun& 


*ini 


la 

56 


; 
7t 


41 




Last Thur.tday in Jnne. 
Last Wednesday in Jun& 


302 


SO 





1(1' 


State .. 

M.E... 
M.E.S- 


14 














14 




10^ 


4 














•Iflf 


6 

















200 
2,000 

360 






30- 
10' 


7 4; 
4 7£ 
9 3; 


14 


2; 
11 


2J 


It 


11 




3? 
o4, 

a4( 


1; 
IS 
IS 


Last Wednesday in June. 


3o; 

31( 


M.E... 
>l 


t 


7a 


2d Wednesday in June. 
Last Wedneedaybatonelll 


1 














May, 



462 REPORT OF THE COMMISSIOJ^ER OF EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF COLLEGES AND COLLEGIATE 



'Same. 



Location. 



Fresidenfv 



313 
314 
31: 
310 
317 
318 

319 
320 
321 
322 
323 

324 

325 
320 
327 
323 
320 
330 
331 
332 
333 
334 
33, 
330 

337 

338 
330 
340 
341 

342 

343 

344 

34 

340 

34' 

348 

350 

351 

352 

353 

334 

35.- 

35G 

s: 

358 

330 
3G0 
3«1 
302 
303 
■ 304 
303 
300 
307 
308 
309 
370 
371 
372 



Greenville and Tasculum Col- 
lege. 

"West Tennessee TJniveraity . . 

.Tonesborougb College 

East Tennessee University. . . 

Presbyterian Syiiodical Collegi 

Cumberland Uiiiversity 

Looliont Mountain Educational 
Institution. 

Hiawassce College 

Mary^'iUo CoUego 

Uuinn University 

Central Tennessee College 

College of Arts, University of 
Nashville. 

Eisk University 

Franklin College 

University of the South 

St. Joseph's College 

Colorado College 

University of St. Mary 

Aranania College 

Ilenderson College 

E.aylor Univer.sity 

St. Mary's College 

Waco University 

University of Vermont 

Middlebury CoUogo 



Greenville, Tenn. 



Norwich University 

llandolph M.acon College 

University of "Virginia 

Emory and Henry College- . . . 
Washington and Loo Univer- 
sity. 

Uani'pden Sidney College 

I;i(biii(.ndC(.ncg6 

lloanc.ko ('..Urge 

i_'(.ll('g.^ of William and Mary. 

Virginia Military Institute 

St. John's College 

liethaii V CoUego 

West A'irgiiiia University 

St. Viiirrnt 's Ciillcgo 

West \'irgiuia College 

Lawrence University 

Wavland University 

Biloit College ; 

r,alcH\ ilbi University 

.laius\illc (Jnlb'20 

University of Wisconsin 



Pio Nono College 

Milton < 'oUego 

liacine College 

Ripon College 

St. John's College 

Northwestern University . 

Carroll College 

Georgetown College 

Columbian College 

Gonraga College 

Howard University 

Santa F6 University 

University of Deseret 

'Woshin^tbQ Uoiveraity . . , 



Jackson, Tenn 

Jonesborough, Tenn 

Knoxville, Tenn 

Lagrange, Tenn 

Lebanon, Tenn 

Lookout Mountain, Ten.. 

Madisonville, Tenn 

Mary ville, Tenn 

Muffreesborough, Tenn.. 

Nashville, Tenn 

, do 



.do. 



Near Nashville, Tenn. 

Sewanee, Tenn 

Brownsville, Texas . . . 

Columbus, Texas 

Galveston, Texas 

Goli.ad, Texas 

Henderson, Texas 

Independence, Texas . 
San Antonio. Texas ... 

Waco, Texas 

Burlington, Vt 

Middlebury, Vt 



Northfield, Vt.... 

Ashland, Va 

Univ. of Va. P. 0. 

Emory, Va 

Lexington, Va 



1805 
1807 
1830 
1842 
1800 



1810 

1848 
1800 
1800 

1807 
1844 
1808 



Eov. W. S. Doak, A. M 

Itev. E. L. Fatten, A. M 

H. Presnell, A. M 

Eov. T. W. Humes, S. T. D . 



IS. W. McDonnald, D.1).,LL.D 
Eev. C. F. P. Bancroft, A. M 



J.B.Greiner, A.M 

Eev. P. M. Bartlett, A. M. 

G. W. Jarman. A.M 

Eov. J. Braden, A. M 

E. K. Smith 



A. K. Spenee, A. M. 

A.J. Fanning 

Gen. Gorgas 



1857 
1850 
183: 
1871 
1843 



Rev. J. J. Schorer, A. M. - 
Brother Boniface, S. S. C . 
J. E. C. Doremus, D. D . .. 

G.n. Gould 

W. C. Crane, D. D 



-H 



Prince Edward County, Va. 

liichmond, Va 

Salem, Va 

Williamsburgh, Va 

Lexington, Va 

Norfolk, Va 

Beth.any, W. Va 

Morgantown. W. Va... 

Wheeling, W. Va 

Flemington, W. Va 

Appleton, Wis 

Beaver D.Tm, Wis 

Beloit, Wig 

G.ileavllle, Wis 

J.ane8ville, AVis 

Madison, Wis 



18C1 

1797 

1831 
1831 
1625 
1838 
1782 

1770 
1844 

I6:.;i 
ico:i 

1830 



Rev. R. C. Burleson, D. D. 

M.H.Buckham 

Rev. H. D. Kitchel, D. D . 



Rev. R. S. Howard, D. D . . 
Rev. J. A. Duncan, A. M., 

C. S. Ven.able, LL. D 

Rev. E. E. Wiley, D. D... 
Gen.G.W.C.Loe , 



D.D. 



1841 
1808 
18C5 

1847 
1854 
1847 
1839 



St. Francis, Wis 

Milton, Wis 

Racine, Wis 

Ripon, Wis 

Prairie du Chicn, Wis 

Watertown, Wis 

Waukesha, Wis 

Georgetown, D.O 

"Washington, D. C 

do 

.... do 

Santa F6, N. M 

Salt Lake City, Utah Ter 
Seattle, Wash. Ter 



1848 

1871 
1844 
185; 
1803 
1805 
1804 
1840 
17U2 
182; 
1848 
1807 
1870 
1808 

laui 



B. Puryear, A. M 

II. I'urvear, A. M 

l;.v. 1 1. F. Bittle, D.D. 

l'..S. Kwell 

Gen. F. H. Smith 



W. K. Pendleton 

Rev. A. Martin, D.D 

Rev. A. Louage 

Rev. W. Colegrove, A. M . 
Rev. G. M. Steele, D. D . . 

A. S. Hutchens 

Rev. A. L. Chapin, D. D . . 
Rev. H. Gilliland, A.M... 

A. L. Reed 

J. U. Twombly, D. D 



Rev. J. Salzmann, D. D 

Rev. W. C. Whitford, A. M . . . 

Rev. J. Do Koven, D. U 

Rev. W. E. Merriman, A. M. . 

Brother Benedict 

Rev. A. F. Ernest, A. M 

Rev. W. D. F. Lummis A. M . 

Rev. J. E.irly, S. J 

J. C. Welling, LL.D 

Rev. J. Clark 

Gen. O. O. Howard. LL. D . . . . 

Rev. D. F. McFarland 

J.R.Park, M.D 

J.H.HiUl 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 



463 



DEPAETMENTS XN THE UNITED STATES, &c.— Continnci 





•1 

C 

a 
P 


a 

a 

s 
5 


Students. 


Cost of— 


1 

a 

3 

1 

"3 
1 




■1 


a 
a 

a 
1 

2 

t 


a 


c 
1 
■Ji 


* 

3 
'5 


.2 
"5 


1 





0) 

1 


•a 
I 


i 

§ 


1 

a 

u 

1 


Time of commencement 


312 

313 
314 


Pres ... 














65 


... 


65 






























M. E . . . 


3 
12 














5 
167 


60 


65 
167 










113 


2f 


15 


9 


4 




aS30 


S8 


1,000 


3(1 Wednesday in Jnne. 


316 
317 

318 

319 
320 
321 
323 
3-23 

324 


Pros 


C.P.... 


9 
6 


100 
44 


33 
C 


29 
2 


25 


22 


30 230 
53 79 


'26 


239 
105 


O00-70 
WOO 


14-20 




2d Thursday in June. 
3d Tuesday in Jane. 








Pres . . . 


e 


24 


6 




4 


5 


59 71 


29 


100 


o20 


8-12 


2,000 


Last Thursday in May. 


stat«;;! 

Cong .. 


f 
10 

7 


9 










211 lis 
239 271 


105*220 


o9 
6150-175 


10-12 


450 
10, 000 


Mav 17 


15 


10 


5 


2 




271 
524 


2d Tuesday in June. 




.■i24 
























32C 


P.E... 


8 














180 




180 
































Luth 
























:;:::::::...;::: 




329 


E.C.... 


9 


78 










84 


102 




102 


3-6 


c30 


500 


Last Thursday in Jtmo. 










831 




7 
6 














173 
113 


i42 315 
... 113 


Ol30 
a30-00 






September 4. 

2d Wednesday in Jnne. 


332 


Bapt... 














12-50 


2,500 


334 
335 

330 

337 


Bapt... 
State . . 
Cong . . 

P.E... 

M.E.S. 
State.. . 
M.E.S. 


11 

15 
7 

10 
7 

19 
5 

22 

5 
11 
11 
12 


... 
'83 


ii 

14 
12 

'27 


"7 
10 

24 
'25 


"w 

18 

30 

... 

25 


9 

13 
10 

8 

is 


230 
24 


140 
09 

58 

74 
142 
317 
180 
305 

81 
144 

151 
76 
380 


ios 


245 

09 

58 

74 
142 
317 
160 
305 

81 
144 
151 

70 
330 


15-25 
a45 
a45 

6350 

a40-75 

70 

aOO 

aOO 

o50 

(t70 

o50 

50 

Free . . 


12-15 
14-10 
al42 


' 'is,' 600 

11,000 

4,000 
10, 000 
37, 000 
13,580 

6,000 

3,500 

'"6,'(i6o 

5,000 


Last Weclc in June. 
1st Thursday in August. 
Thursday "foJlowing 2d 

Wednesday in August. 
2d Thursday in July, 
Last Thursday in -June. 
Thursday before July 4. 
1st Wodiiesday in -June. 
4th Thursday m June. 

2d Thursday in Jane. 
July 1. 

3d AVednesday in Juno. 
3d Mouday in June. 
July 4. 


338 
339 
340 
341 


10-18 

10-20 

13 

16 

al60 

10 

al40-205 

10 

15 


342 
843 
344 
345 


Pres . . . 
Bapt . . 
LiUU... 
P.E ... 


69 


18 

ii 


16 
i4 


21 

... 
10 


10 
"'7 


16 
"34 














330 


347 


K.C 














348 
350 
351 


Chr.... 
.State. . . 
ILC... 


9 
13 

10 

9 
5 
9 
5 
1 


'99 


22 
25 


10 

8 


IJ 


15 
2 


43 


107 
146 
120 

4t< 
185 


28 

87 


107 

i20 

70 

272 


o30 
5-8 
030 
6-8 
&-7 
o25 
030 
021-30 


20 
16 

0200 
12 

8-11 


"'i,'56o 

3,500 

'"e.'ooo 


3d Thursday in June. 
3d Wednesday in June. 
1st IXouday in September. 
July 12 


35-T 














353 
'til 


lI.E... 
Bapt . . . 
Cong... 
M.E... 


57 


29 


24 


11 


13 


138 


Las't Thursday in June. 


355 


133 


14 


20 


14 


11 


5 


197 
02 
101 
338 

90 


44 


197 
100 
1ST 


080-160 


7,200 
4,500 


2d Wednesday in July. 


357 


















358 
359 


State... 

K.C.... 
Baiit ... 
P.E.... 


27 

5 
7 
IC 
12 

15 

7 


131 

i63 
131 
54 


7 

32 
13 
6 


5 

26 

21 

5 


10 

io 
4 

5 


C 

7 
7 


303 


124 402 
.. 20 


6 

fll60 
S-11 

6400 
8 

16 


12 


5,000 

7,200 
1,310 


Wednesday preceding laat 

Tuesday in June. 
July 1. 


3C0 
3U1 


.... 141 

9 185 

244 174 


96 

i47 

4 


237 
185 
321 
130 
132 


13 


Last Wednesday in June. 
2d Wednesday in July. 
Last Wednesday in Juno. 


302 


10 

"oiicCiso 


1,500 

""i,'5u6 


303 


K.C.... 
Lutli... 
Pres . . . 




130 

128 


?(i4 














July 4. 
















300 
307 

308 


P..C.... 
Bapt . . . 
R.C.... 


16 
9 

8 


139 
70 


30 
13 


15 

8 


11 

8 


11 
10 




212 
I'JD 
143 




212 
109 
143 


6325 
oOO 
o44 


16 


33, COO 

8,000 

400 


Last Thursday in June. 
Last Wednesday in June. 
1st Monday in July. 


V,'l 
















?7n 


Pres . . . 
L.D. S 


4 

13 














34 


n 


51 

580 
193 


40-60 

060 

14 


o225 

20-32 

14 


40 
400 


September IL 


171 














280 294 
llOJ PR 


17^ 





































4G4 



REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 



STATISTICS OF TKEOLOGICAl 
[Compiled from the most recent roporta seni 



4 



Name. 



Location. 



Denomination. 



23 

24 

25 
2G 

27 
28 
29 

30 
31 
32 
33 
34 
35 
3G 

37 

ab 

39 
40 
41 
42 
43 
44 
45 
4G 
47 
48 

49 

r>o 

51 
52 
S3 
54 



Theological department of Howard CoHogo. 
Ecclesiastical Seminary of Diocese of Mo- 
bile. 

Saint Ancnistinc College 

TInM.lnL'iral Si-iiiiiKiry 

Tat.' ilk- Thinluuical Seminary 

Tlieulut^icul liihtituto of Connecticut 

Theological department of Yale College.. 
Berkeley Divinity School 



Theological department of Mercer Uni- 
versity. 
St. Joseph's Ecclesiastical College 



Theological Seminary of the Northwest. . . 

Theological school of lilackburu Univer- 
sity. 

Gan'ott Biblical Institute 

Chicago Theological Si_'Oiinary 

Theological Si'ininary of the Northwest. . - 

Baptist'Theologieal Scniiiiary 

Bible department of Eureka College 

Theological department of Shurtlctf Col- 
lege. 

Theological department of Augustana 
College. 

Theological School of Hartsville Univer- 
sity. 

Wart burg Seminary 

Theological department of Griswold Col- 
lege. 

German Theological Seminary 

Theological Department of Iowa Wes- 
leyaii University. 

Norwegian Theological Seminary 

Theological department of Georgetown 
College. 

"Western Baptist Theological Institute . . . 

St. Joseph's Ecclesiastical Seminary 

College of the Bible, of Kentucky Univer- 
sity. 

Danville Theological Seminary 

IMniisaii TIicii]n;xi'";il Si-ininary 

Tlirnlo-i<';il.srl,u..I ..1" I'.rt licl Collcge 

TliiiTiisiiu I'.ibiital Institute 

11n■^l]u^i^■;ll Seminary 

Tlifulogiriil Srniinary , 

Tlu-dlugieal school of* Bates College 



Theological Seminary of St. Sulpico 

Theological department of Mt. St. Mary's 
College. 

Theological Seminary 

Divinity school of Tufts College 

Divinity .selionl of Harvard University.. 

Boston TliroIoLiiical Si 'miliary 

Anilovcr TlHitlo^ieal Sriniuary 

Episropal T]i.olo-i<;il School , 

Ni'wton 'riifolo;:i(al Institution 

Nfw -Icnisalrm Tlu'ologital School 

Theological department of Adrian College 

Theological department of II illadalo Col- 
lege. 

Scandinavian Theological Seminary 

(,'oneordia Seiuiuary 

Vandcrnian Seho(»l of Theology 

Thi'ological school of WrstniinsterCollego 

St. VincL'Ut's Theological Seniiiiary 

Theological Seminary of the Ilofonued 
Church. 



Marion. Ala 

South Orange, Ala . 



Benicia, Cal 

San Francisco, Cal . . . 

Oakland. Cal 

Ilartford, Conn 

New Uaveu, Conn 

Middletown, Conn 



Macon, Ga 

Toutopolis, HI . 

Monmouth, 111 . 
Carlinvillo, 111 . 



Evanston.ni 

Chicago, 111 

do 

do 

Eureka, Dl 

Upper Alton, 111 . 



Genesee, HI 

nartsville, Ind. 



St. Sebald.Iowa... 
Davenport, Iowa.. 



Dnbnque.Iowa 

Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. . 



Decorah, Iowa . . . 
Georgetown, Ky . 



do 

Bardstown, Ky. 
Lexington, Ky . 



Danville. Ky 

Shelby villo, Ky 

Ilussellville, K!y 

New Orleans, La 

do 

Bangor, Me 

Lewiston, Me 



Baltimore, Md 

Near Emmittsburgh, 
Md. 

Woodstock. Md 

College Dill. Mass... 

Cambridge, Mass 

Boston, Mass 

Andover, Mass 

Caiobriilge, Mass 

Ken toll ( 'ciitre. Mass 

Waltham, Mass 

Adi iau, Mich 

Hillsdale, Mich 



Chicaso, Dl 

St. Louis. Mo 

Liberty, Mo 

Fulton, Mo 

Capo Girardeau, Mo- . 
Now Brunswick, N. J 



1841 



lecs 

1B71 

18GG 
1834 
1823 
1854 

1833 

1861 

1839 
1857 

1854 
1855 
1650 
ISGG 
1852 
1832 



1857 
1859 



1858 



1840 
1820 
18G5 

1853 
18G5 
1858 
18G5 



1816 
1830 



1791 

1800 



lf-G8 
1811 

1847 
1808 
1807 
1826 
180G 



Baptist 

Eoman Catholic. 



Protestant Episcopal. 

Presbyterian 

Congregational 

do 

do 

Protestant Episcopal. 



Baptist 

Eoman Catholic. 



United Presbyterian . , 
Presbyterian , 



Methodist Episcopal . . 

Congregational 

Presbyterian 

Baptist 

Christian 

Baptist 



Lutheran . 



United Brethren.. 



Lutheran 

Protestant Episcopal. . 



Presbyterian 

Methodist Episcopal . 



Lutheran. 
Baptist . . . 



do 

Koman Catholic. 
Christian 



Presbyterian 

Protestant Episcopal. . 

Baptist 

Methodist Episcopal 

Koman Catholic 

Congregational 

Free Baptist 



Koman Catholic. 
, do 



.... do 

Universahst 

No tests 

Methodist Episcopal. 

Congregational 

Protestant Episcopal. 

Baptist 

Now Jerusalem Church 



1840 
18G8 



Free Baptist.. 



Lutheran . 

do... 

Baptist . . . 



1844 
1785 



Koman Catholic.. 
Kcformed 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 



465 



SEMETAKtES IX THE TJXITED STATES. 
to tho TJnitetl States Bureau of Education.] 



1 

a 

'A 


PresiJeut or senior professor. 


i 

u. 

■3 

6 


to 

6 
"A 


'5 
.2 


i 

a 

3 


a 


a 

It 

a 
•a 


= so 

§•3 

ll 


Time of commencement. 


1 


Kev. S. E. Freeman, D. B 


1 


4 






2,500 


S105 


Last Thursday in June. 






3 


Et. Eev. 'Wm. I. Kip, D. D 


6 


7 
























5 
C 
7 


Rev. .lames A. Benton, D.D . .. 

VTilliam Tbonipsoii, U. 1) 

No.-ib Porter, D. T)., LL. D 

Et. liev. .Toliu Williams, D. D., 
LL. D. 


2 
3 

7 
10 


7 

53 
38 


290 
805 
149 


$30,000 

'303,' 666 

40, 000 


1,500 
7,000 


1,50 
80 


3d Thursday of An.iust. 
Last Thursday in June. 
3d Thursflay i'u M.iy. 








9 








10 
11 

la 

13 

14 

lv» 


Very Eev. V. Maurice Kloster- 

nian, 0. S. F. 
Rer. Alexaniler Yonncr, D. D... 
Eev. John W. Bailey, 1). D 

H. Bannister, D.D 

Rev. S. C. Bartlett, D. D 


7 

3 

1 

4 

G 


IOC 

15 
20 

90 
55 


527 
208 

250 
125 
171 


n, 000 

10, 000 

,300, 000 
100, 000 
100, 000 
112, 000 


700 

2,030 
700 

3,300 

3, 700 
8,000 
10, 000 


ISO 
150-175 

ito 

150 

150 

125-150 

150 


Last Thursday in March, 

Last Thursday in Jnnc. 
Last Thursday in ApriL 
1st Thursday iu April. 










17 










2d Thursday in June. 
Do. 


18 


Rev .T Bulklev D D 


3 
2 
1 






65, 000 




150 


'\'\ 




18 
7 






20 


Eev. J. Woodbury Scribuer, A. 
M. 








93-150 

230 

150 


2d Tuesday in June. 


21 


07 
15 

73 


3,400 
40,000 

10, 000 


1,045 
5,000 

5,000 


1^ 


Rt. Eev. Henry W. Lee, D. D., 

LL. D. 
Eev. J. Conzet 





1 


7 

10 


3d week in June. 
June lat. 


n\ 


Jobn Wheeler D D 




"i 
















"(5 




1 










200-250 


2d Thursday in June. 


07 












S3 
"1 


Eev P tie Fraino 


7 
2 


08 
122 






3,000 


1.50 
125 


Last Tuesday in June, 


Eev. Robert ililli-^an 


110 
194 




2d Friday in' June. 


in 




218,000 


8,000 


11 








2d Thiu-sday in June. 


"V 
















31 


















11 




2 
4 
4 

6 
3 

7 
3 
5 
14 
U 


30 
24 
21 

70 
29 

75 
20 
37 
90 

es 
11 

50 

B 












3.-. 

3fi 


Eev. Enoch Pond, D. D 

Eev. Oren B. Cheney, D. D 


040 


120, 000 


13, 000 
2,000 


150 


1st Thursday iu June. 
Tuesday before the last 

"Wednesday in June. 
July 1st. 
3d Monday in Juno. 


37 






33 
V) 


Very Eev. Jno. McCaffrey, D. D 


320 




15, 000 


150 


■tn 


Rev. Alonzo A. Miner. D. D 

Cliarle.s W. Eliot, LL. D 

Eev. William F. Warren. D. D. . 
Eev. Echvarils A. Park. D.D. ... 

Eev. Jobn S. Stone, D. D 

Eev. A Ivah Ilovcy, D. D 

Eev. Thomas Worcester 

Eev. A. Maban, D. D 






12, 000 

10, 000 

4,000 

30, 000 

'"i,'266 

500 


250 
300 
140 
150 
350 
200 
175 




41 

4J 
43 
44 
45 

4li 
47 


432 

0(35 

2,000 

"536' 
9 


240,000 
230, 000 

125,066 

335,000 

37,000 


Last Tuesday in June. 
2d Wednesday in June. 
1st Thursday in August. 
1st Wedues('lay in -July. 
2d Wednesday in June. 
Not iiied. 


4^ 


Eev. James Calder, D. D 




32 












40 












'.0 












5,000 
3,000 


3i6 


1st September. 

Ist Wednesday iu June. 


51 


Eev. T. Ramliaiit. D. D 


52 
C 




00,666 


^ 












54 






22 


770 


173,666 


16,000 


300 


September 20. 



28* 



466 KEPORT OP THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OP TnEOXOGICAL SEM 



ITame. 



Location. 



Denomination. 



55 
56 
57 

58 
59 

60 
61 
Gii 

03 

64 
65 
66 
67 
68 

69 
70 
71 

72 

73 

74 



89 
90 
91 
92 

03 

94 

95 
90 
97 
98 
99 
l:0 
101 
102 
103 



lOG 
107 



Tlieolo0cal Seminary 

Drew Tlieolo^cal Seminary . . . 
Auburn Tlieological Seminary. 



Kochester TIieoIop:ical Seminary. 
Union Tlieological Seminary 



Princeton, N.J. 
Madison, N. J . . 
Auburn, N. Y . . 



Hartwicli Theological Seminary 

Theological seminary of MadisonUniversity 

Theological school of St. Lawrence Uni- 
versity. 

Martin Luther (theological) College 

Xowburgh Theological Seminary 

St. Joseph's P^o^'incial Seminary 

Theological Seminary 

Do Lancy Divinity School 

Theological Seminary of Our Lady of 
Angels. 

Theological school of Trinity College 

Biblical department of Baldwin University 

Theological Seminary 



Itochester, N. T 

Now York City, M'.T. 



nartwick, K. Y . 
Hamilton, N. Y . 
Canton, N. Y 



Theological school of Ohio 'Wesleyan Uni- 
versity. 

Theological department of "Wilberforce 
University. 

Theological'departmentofOberliuCoUego. 

Ucidelberg Theological Seminary 

Theological seminary of St. Charles Dor- 
romoo. 

Wittenberg College 

Mount Saint Mary's of the 'West 



Lane Theological Seminary 

Theological department of Capital Univer- 
sity. 

Theological Seminary 

St. Mary's Ecclesiastical Seminary 

Crozer Theological Seminary 

Meadvillc Theological School 

Theological Semiiiary 

Divinity School 



Lutheran Theological Seminary . 
Mission.ary Institute 



"Western Theolo.gicaft Seminary 

Thc(il(>L:ieal Seminary 

r.ilrlical department of Allegheny College 

Tlitulo;iical department of "Lincoln Uni- 
versity. 

Chair of Biblical language and literature, 
Dickinson College. 

Theological Seminary 

St. Michael's Theological Seminary 

"rheolouical .'>emiuary 

Protestant Episcopal Mission House 

St. Cluuhs Borrumeo Seminary 

Theological Seminary of Ursinus College. 

"Theological Seminary 

Theological Seminary 

Southern Baptist Theological Seminary . 

"Theological department "of Cumberland 
University. 

Theologic.ir department of Central Uni- 
versity. 

Theological department of Baylor Uni- 
versity. 

Colver Institute 

Union Theological Seminary 



Buiralo,N.T 

Ncwburgh, N. Y 

Troy.N.Y 

New York City, N. Y. . 

Geneva, N. Y 

SuspensionEridgo.N.Y 

Trinity College, N. C . 

Berea.'Ohio 

Gambler, Ohio 



Delaware, Ohio . . . 
Near Senla, Ohio . 



Obrrlin, Ohio 

Tiffin, Ohio 

Carthagena, Ohio. 

Springfield, Ohio . 
Cincinnati, Ohio. . 



do 

Columbus, Ohio . 



Xenia, Ohio 

Cleveland, Ohio 

Upland, Pa 

Meadville, Pa 

Lancaster, Pa 

Philadelphia, Pa . . . 



do 

Sclin'a Grove, Pa. 



Allegheny City, Pa . . - 

do 

Meadville, Pa 

Oxford, Pa 



Carlisle, Pa ... - 
Bethlehem, Pa . 



Pittsburgh, Pa 

Cettv.-i'.nii'xh, Pa 

West Philadelphia, Pa, 

l'liil;;di-lpliia, Pa 

prceland. Pa 

Columbia, S.C 

do 

Greenville, S. C 

Lebanon, Tcun 



1810 
1807 
1821 

1630 
183G 

1810 
1820 

1858 

1834 
1803 
18G4 
1817 
1801 
1850 



Pres'byterian 

Methodist Episcopal. 
Presbyterian 



Baptist 

Presbyterian 



Lutheran 

Baptist 

Univorsalist 



Lutheran 

United Presbyterian. 

Poman Catholic 

Protestant Episcopal. 

do 

Poman Catholic 



182S 



1835 

leso 

1SG9 

1843 
1849 



1794 

iics' 

1844 
1825 
1802 

1804 

1858 

1823 



1803 



Nashville, Tonn 

Independence, Tex . . . 

Kichmond, "Va 

llampdeu Sidney, "Va. . 



1807 

1847 
1825 
1804 
1858 
1870 
1831 
1839 
18.39 
1842 

1800 

1804 

1S07 
1824 



Methodist Episcopal.. 
do 

Protestant Episcopal . 

Methodist Episcopal-. 

African Methodist 
Episcopal. 

Congri!gational 

Pcl'crmed 

Poman Catholic 



Lutheran 

llomau Catholic. 



Presbyterian 
Luthe'rau 



United P^csb^'torian. 

Komaii Catholic 

B.aptist 

Unitarian 

Peformcd 

Protestant Episcopal. 

Lutheran 



.do. 



Presbyterian 

United Presbyterian . 



Presbyterian 

Methodist Episcopal. 
Moravian 



Roman Catholic 

Lutheran 

Protestant Episcopal. 
Koman CathoUc 



Presbyterian- 
Lutheran 

Baptist 

Presbyterian. 



Methodist Episcopal . 
Baptist 



do 

Presbyterian. 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 

DTAT-IES IN THE tTNITED STATES— Continued. 



4G7 



o 

a 


Presklcnt or senior professor. 


o 

o 

a 


M 

a 

3 


3 
rs 
V 

a 

B| 

S 
o 

-a 


g 

a 
o 

4 


a 

CI 

a 

3 . 

1 

3 
|2i 


og 
rt 3 

p-3 

* rt 

.11 


Time of commencemcnti 


35 


Kov.Cl:ui-!csUocl-e, D.D., LL.D 
E:in(li-li)li S. Fester, D.D., LL.D 


c 

5 
5 

5 
G 

1 
4 
3 

5 
o 

7 
6 
5 
4 

1 


152 
97 
40 


2, 527 
1S9 


$5S0, 000 
500, 000 


21, 804 
10, 000 
8,500 

8, COO 
30, 000 

2,000 
10, 000 
6,000 


$173 
150 
250 

175 

250 

175 
200 
240 


Last Wednesday in ApriL 

3d Thursday in May. 

Thursday ai'ter 1st tiunday 
in May. 

3d week in May. 

Monday before 2d Thurs- 
day in May. 

4th Wednesday in June. 

3d Tuesday in June. 

1st Thursday in July, 


53 
5D 

rn 


Eov. E. G. Koljinson, D.D 

Ecv. llenrv B. Smith, D. D., 

LL. U. " 
Ecv. T T. Titus, A. M 


71 

117 


476 
935 

100 


2G7, 000 
375,000 

15, 000 

leo, coo 

00, 000 




Ecv. Geo. W.Eaton, D.D., LL.D 
Ecv. Eljenezer Fisher, D. D ... 


22 
27 

12 
'12 
190 


800 
143 


Hi 


A bo.ird of Rupcrintcndents . . . 
Ycry Ecv. 11. Gabriels 


2C0 


30,000 


3,400 


ICO 

225 

400-500 


Last Wednesday in March. 
Last Thursday in Jtme. 


cr. 




812 


200,000 
20, 000 


13, 845 


(17 


Eov. James Eanldne, D. D 

Very Eov. Evobert E. V.Eico.. 

Eov. B. Craven, D. D 




cs 

CO 

70 


50 

28 


150 
20 




3,500 
400 


302 
125 


Last Wednesday in June. 
Last Thnrsday in June. 


71 
78 


Et. Eev. C. P. McUvaiuo, D.D., 

D. C. L., LL. D. 
Eov. FreLlericli Morrick 

Et. Eev. Daniel A. Payne, D. D. 

Eev. James H. Faircliild, D. D. 
Ecv. J. II. Good D. D 


4 
3 

o 

5 

3 

1 
3 

5 


15 


161 


100, 000 


7,000 


300 


Last Thursday in June. 


7n 


IS 

47 
18 
27 

6 
33 

40 


4 

2S8 
130 






150 

130-225 

175 

Free.. 

150 
225 

150 


Third Wednesday in June. 
1st Wednesday in August 


74 


60, 000 
21, 000 


10, 000 
2,400 
3,500 


7(i 


Eev. Henry Drees, U. D 

Rev. S. Sprecber, D. D 


4th week in June. 


77 


109 
533 




June 30. 


73 
79 


Ecv. F.J. Pabisch,D.D.,LL.D., 

D. C.L. 
Eov. Henry Smith, D. D 


160,000 
200, 000 


10, 000 
12,000 


June 24. 

2d Thnrsday in May. 


Pt 


Eev. S. Wilson, D. D 


3 


15 


37G 


50, COO 


2,000 


100-150 


1st Thursday in October. 


R 




r:i 


Eov. Henrv G. Weston, D. D . . 
















1^4 




G 
3 
5 

4 

4 

7 


21 
20 
45 

38 

17 

75 


ICG 
270 
133 

52 

52 

1,005 


140, 003 
CO, 000 

88,000 
184,000 


11, 000 
8,000 
6,100 

1,800 

2,000 


225 

200 

250-300 

340 
300 


3d Thnrsday in June. 

Last Wednesday in May. 

Thursday after 3d Tues- 
day in '.June. 

Week before Trinity Sun- 
day. 

Week before Trinity Sun- 
day. 

Last Wednesday in April 


65 

£C 

87 

P8 


Ecv. E. Y. Gerbart, D. D 

Ecv.D.E.Goodwin. D. D.,LL.D 

Eov. Charles F. Schaeffer, D. D. 

H. Zeiglcr 


89 


Eev. M.W. Jacobus, D.D.,LL.D 


91 
qo 


Eev. Gcorpe Loomis, D. D 

Ecv.LN.llcn4ill,D.D 

Eev. Eobert L. Dasbicll, D. D . . 

Sebweinitz, D.D. 

Eov.S.Wall 

Eev. J. A. Drown, D. D 

Eov. Washington Eodman 


5 

1 

4 

5 
5 
3 


"g 

11 

20 

60 

28 
9 








gs^iis 


3d Wednesday in June. 


O-l 








91 

95 
9G 
97 


233 

130 

4-:g 

30 


42, 000 

'i66,"666 


4,100 

4,000 

12,000 

COO 

10, 000 


300 

200 
130 
300 
300 
300 
150 
150 
110 
100 

100 

100 

60 
350-300 


1st Wednesd.iy in Sept. 

Last of June. 

4tb Thursday in June. 

3d Thursday in Sept ember, 

1st Monday in September. 

Last Thursday in Juno. 

2d week in May. 

1st Thursday iii October. 

Last Saturday in ApriL 

1st Thursd.ay in June. 

3d week in May. 

3d Thursday in June. 


ni 


Eov. J. H. A. Eombergcr 

Eev. George Howe, D. D 

Ecv. A. E. Elide 


3 

7 

5 
2 

1 

1 
o 

i 








100 
101 


41 


374 


145, 715 
29, 000 
50, COO 
35, 000 


is, 340 
4,000 

10, 000 
5,000 

400 

400 

1,000 
8,000 


lOSi 
103 

104 


Ecv. James P. Eovce, D. D 

Eev. B. W. lleDonnold, D.D., 

LL.D. 
Eov. J. Braden, A. M 


51 

8 

G 
21 
71 


185 
40 


lori 


Eev. Wm. Carey Crane, D. D. . 

Eov. Charles H. Corey, A. M. . . 
Kev. E. L. Dabney, D. D 






loi; 






107 


59 


400 


196,666 


3d Tuesday in May. 



468 EEPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF THEOLOGICAX SEM 



Name. 



Location. 



Denomination. 



103 
109 
110 
111 
11-2 
113 
114 
115 
116 

117 



Theological Seminary 

St. Jolin's Theological Seminary 

New Hampton Theological Seminary 

St. Vincent's College 

Nashotah Theological Seminary 

Mission House 

The Salesianum 

Augsburg Seminary 

Theological department of Howard Uni- 
versity. 
Way lanil Theological Seminary 



Fairfax County, Va . . . 

Norfolk, Va , 

Fairfax, Va 

Wheeling, W. Va 

Nashotah Lakes, Wis 
Howard's Grove, Wis. 
St. Fiancis.Wis. ..'.... 

-Marshall, Wis 

Washington, D. C 



.do. 



1823 
1609 
1825 
I £05 
1847 
18C4 
1850 
18C9 
18T0 

18C5 



Protestant Episcopal 

Koman Catholic 

Baptist 

Koman Catholic 

Protestant Episcopal 

KefornuMl 

Koman Catholic 

Lutheran 

Union Evangelical... 

Baptist 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 

rNAEIES n; the TTNITED states— Continnea. 



469 



President or senior professor. 



SI 



o s 



=1 

SB 



HP, 



Time of commencoment* 



108 
109 
110 
111 
119 
113 
114 
IIS 
116 

117 



Et. Eev. John Johns,D.D., LL. D 
Eev. M. O'Keefe 

Rev. A. Lonaze 

Eev.A.D.CoIo,D.D 

Eev. H. A. Mnehlmeyer 

Eev. Joseph Salzmann, D. D . . . 

Eev. A. Weeuaag, A. il 

Gen. 0. 0. Howard -..:-.■. 

Eev. G. M. P. King .-s.t. si»-. . . 



599 
3 



9,500 
3,000 



S200 
150-250 



56 
216 

35 

416 

6 



$100 



1,500 
5,000 
1,400 
7,900 
1,000 



45 



250 



50 

150-180 

100 

150 

'J5 



Last Thursday in June. 
Second Thorsday in July. 

Jane 99. 

First Monday in Sept. 

Julyl. 

Last Tuesday in June. 

Last Wednesday in May. 









IS 

3 




^_JC^^ SrUlML ^ AtTlimb ■ 1i'^* ^^^iT ^ 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 
SCHOOLS EJ THE XTSTIED SPATES. 



471 



i 

1 


il 

^1 


President or senior professor. 


■5 j 
11 


CM 


. 


- t- 

III 


Time of commencement. 


1 
2 
3 

4 
S 
A 


1W3 
1S67 
1S39 
1S«0 
1S43 
1S70 

"""is65 

isn 

1S83 
1546 
1S17 
1S54 
1S9 
1SS7 
1S51 

"iS59' 
1833 

1S36 


Xoah Porter. D. D., LL. D 

A. A. IJpscomb, D. D 

J. C. Biu-rouchs, D. D.. LL. D . . 

Henrv H.nomer.A.iI 

D-lTiii McDonald, LL. D 

Horatii> C. Xewcomb, LL. D. . . 
Eev. W. Corliv, S. S. C 


4 
3 

4 
1 
2 
2 
6 
3 
4 
3 
4 
7 
2 
4 
9 
3 
4 
6 
1 

2 

1 


23 
19 
52 
5 
S3 
11 


"201' 

23 

!S9 


2,150 
731 

"■■'sso' 

1,099 


Last Thursday but two in Jnly. 
August 2d. 

Last Thursday in June. 
First Thursday in June. 

27thdayofiIarch. 








B 




SO 

"23" 
54 
154 
7 
321 
53 
86 


91 
12 

"'853' 
1,639 

1,030" 
33 


2,000 

"i.coo" 

3,0:0 
15,000 
500 
3,100 
2,000 


Last Thursday in Juno. 
June 18. 


9 

in 


John'Wtcclcr.D.D 


u 

12 
13 
14 
13 
1A 


Chrislian Eoscliu."!. LL. D 

Charles 1^-. EUot, LL. D 

John X.WaJdcLD.D 

James B. Angell, LL.D 

Henry Hitchcock, A. M 


First Monday in April 
Last "Wednesday in June> 

Second Monday in May. 


17 


Henrr E. Daries, LL. D 

F. A. P. Bamarti, D. D., LL. D . 
& G. Brown, D. D., LL. D 

KichmondFisk,jr.,D.D 

E-Craven D.D 








18 
19 

ao 

91 


59 
14 

11 


690 
63 

15 


"5,066' 
600 


Thursday ailer last Tuesday 
in June. 


?» 


1532 
1556 
1559 












"? 


John Croivell. LL. D 


? 

2 
3 
9 
1 
1 
3 
2 
4 
2 
2 
2 
6 
5 
3 
3 
3 


S8 




2,500 




°A 


■R F Hntrnr.1 A. ^r B. T. 




?T 


1550 ; T^ Sn^ncpr Arillpr 4. "ST . ,.. 


es 








"6 


1571 
1534 










07 


L X."Ean.lall D. D 


3 
12 
3 








S»' 


.TaiTiM TT. arnhrim T.T,_ T> 






First Thursday in SeptemDcr, 


">» 


1S4T I K. ■VT. Bamwcll, LL. D 

1 Nathaniel EaxtCT, LL. D 

1542 B. ■«". ircDonnoId, D. D 

1543 ■Willi.ir.i Tawv Cranp T). n_ .. 






Tl 






' 


:<l 


86 
10 
13 
31 

117 
23 

167 
53 
25 
87 








JR 






First "Wednesday in June. 
First "Wednesday in July. 


rt 


ISTO 

1565 
1556 
1565 
1570 
1S70 


B. Purrear. Al M 


8 




S4 


J. W. Brockenbronch, LL. D - 
John B. Minor LLTD . . 


It 






Thursday before 4th of July. 


3fi 








TT 


J. C. ^ellinf LL. D .. 








38 


John M. Lansston. A. M 

Eev. .John Earlv. S. ./ . 


13 






40 


"W.B. Wedgwood, LL.D 






Laat Thursday in May. 









472 EEPOKT OP THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF MEDICAL, DENTAL, AND 



Uamo. 



Location. 



10 
H 

12 
];) 

14 
15 

in 

17 

18 
VJ 
20 
21 
2S 
23 
24 
25 
2G 
27 
28 
29 
30 
31 
32 
33 
34 
35 
3G 

37 
38 

39 
40 
41 
42 
43 
44 
45 
4G 
47 
43 
43 
50 



I. 5IEDICAL AKD SURGICAL. 

1. " Jieijular.'* 

Mcdicnl College of Alab.ama 

Toland Medical College 

Medical departmeut of University of the Paciiic 

Medical depart iinnf of Yale College 

Medi.alCdllcciei.f Cc.irsiia 

Sav.aiiiiali Mi diral College 

Atlauta Jlcilical College 

Ullsl, Medi. al Coll.-.' 

Chicago Jlccliial Cnlligo, (medical department of 

tlKiNorthwcstciii Uiiiwrsity.) 

■Woman's Hospital ^Irdical College * 

Indiana Medical C"lligc, (medical department of 

the State University.) 

College of Phyniciaiia and Surgeons 

Medical depaitnicnt of Iowa State University 

Medical department (it the University of Louisville 

Louisvilln Medical College 

Medical department of the (Jnivcrsity of Louisiana. . 
Medical S. hrpid of Maine, (medical departjuont of 

Eowdnin Cidli-ge.) 

Medical department of Washington Univer.sity 

School of medicine of the University of Maryland .. 

Medical scliool of Harvard Uinvcrsity 

New England Fiiuale Medical College* 

Medical department of Michigan Univei'sityt 

Detroit Meilical Cidlcgo 

Missouri MeiU'alC.iUcgo 

St. Louis Medical Cidlcgo 

Medical Ciillcge id Kansas City 

Kansas City College of Physicians and Surgeons . . . 

Medical department of Dartmouth College 

College of Physicians and Surgeons 

Albany Medic.al Collce 

Mcuicld d:p..vtineu^ of iho University of New York 
■Woman's Medical CoUegeof the New "York Infirmary* 

Medical department of (ho University of Buffalo 

Long Island C.dlege llospit.ol 

Bellovne Ilosjotal Medical College 

Geneva Medical College, (medical department of 

Hobart College.) 

Medical College of Ohio 

Cleveland Medical t.'ollege, (medical department of 

University ef Wnoster.) 

St.arling Medical Coll. go 

Cinciniiati College of Medicine and Surgery 

Miaiai Medical (JoUcge 

iSledical department of Willamette University 

;Me<lical departmeut of University of Pennsylvania. . 

Jefferson Medical (.'ollege 

Woman's Medical Co. lego of Pennsylvania'' 

Medical department of Lincoln Univer.sity 

Medical Cfdli-ge (.f the State of S.iulh Carolina: ■-■■ 
Medical department of University (tf Soul li Carolina 
Medical dcp.n tiiient of the University of Nashville 
Memphis Mrdii.il Cidlege, (medical department of 
Cumberland I'niyersity.) § 

Galveston Medical CollcTO 

Medical department of "Vermont University 

Medical department of the University of Virginia.. 

Medical College of Virgini.a 

Medical department of Georgetown College 

N.itional Medical College, (medical department of 

Columbian College.) 
Medical department of Howard University t 



Mobile, Ala 

San Francisco, Cal. 

do 

New U.avcn, Conn . 

Augusta, Ga 

Savannah, Ga 

Atlanta, Ga 

Chicago, 111 

do 



do 

Indianapolis, Ind . 



Keoknlv, Iowa ... 
Iowa City, Iowa . 

Louisville, Ky 

do ..... .. 

Kcw Orleans, La. 
Brunswick, Me... 



1856 
18n4 
1859 
1813 
1833 
1830 
1835 
1842 
1839 

1870 
ItiiJO 

lS-19 
1870 
1837 



Baltimore, Md 

do 

Boston, Mass 

do 

Ann Arbor, Mich 

Detroit, Mich 

St. Louis, Mo 

do 

Kansas City, Mo 

Hanover. N. H 

New York City, N.Y... 

Albany, N. Y 

Now "i'ork City, ]Sr. Y... 

do 

Buffalo, N. Y 

Brooklyn, N. Y 

Now "^ork City, N. Y . . . 
Geneva, N. Y 



Cincinnati, Ohio 

Cleveland, Ohio 

Columbus, Ohio 

(Cincinnati, Ohio 

do 

Salem, Oreg 

Philadelphia, Pa 

do 

do 

Oxford, Pa 

Cliarlcston, S. C 

Columbi.a, S. C 

Nashville, Tenn 

Memphis, Tenn 



Galveston, Tex 

Burliugton. Vt 

Cliarlottisvmo,Va.... 

Kichmond, Ya 

Washington, D. C 

do 



.do. 



18.'iC 
18;;0 

1807 
lf07 
1783 
1843 
1850 
1868 
18-10 
1843 
1870 
1808 
1796 
1807 
1838 
1841 
1865 
1816 
■1600 
1801 
1834 

1819 
1813 

1847 
1831 
1852 



1763 
1826 
1850 



1850 
1847 

1868 

1838 
1850 
1821 

1867 



* For female students only. 

tCoUege not yet opened, (November 10, 1871,) on aooonnt of prevailing yoUow fever and the snspen- 

l After the war, reorganized in 1868 ; in 1871 becamo medical department of Cumberland University, 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 



473 



PRiP-MACEUTICAL INSTITUTIONS IN THE UNITED STATES. 



President or dean. 



'U'illmm H. Anderson, M. D. . . 
U. Berorly Cole, II. D., dc;m . 
IleTirv Gibljons, jr., M. D., do;in.. 
Clia.'?.' A. Lindslcv, il. U., dc.in .. 
L. A. Dujas. il.l)., LL. U., dean.. 

"W. Dum-an, M. D.. deau 

J. G. 'Westmoreland, il. D., dean 
Joseph W. Freer, M. D., president 
N, S. Davis, A. M., M. D., dean . , 

■W. n. I5.vford, A. M., II. D., pros 
J. A. Coniingor, M. D., secrctary. 

J. C. Hii'ihes. M. D., dean 

■W. F. reel;, M. D.. dean 

J. M. Eoiline, il. D., dean 

E. S. Gaillard, M. 1)., dean 

T. G. ];icliardson, M. D„ dean. .- 
C. F. Eraekett, II. D., secretary. 

Chas. W. Chancellor, II. D., dean 
Jnlian J. Chisolm, II. D., dean. .. 

C.ilviu Ellis, M. D., dean 

Stephen Tracy, M. D., dean... 
Abram Sajjer," M. A., M. D., dean. 
Theo're A. ilcGraw. M. D., secr'y 

John S. iloore, M. I)., dean 

J. T. Hodsson.il. D., dean ... 

Joseph Cliew. M. D., dean .' . 

S. S. Todd, II. D., president 

A. D. Smith, D. D., LL. D 

Ja.s. ^V. McLaiie, il. D., secretary 

J. V. Lausinir. M. U 

J. TV'. Draper: II. D., LL. D., pres't 
Emily Blacliwell, il. D., secretary, 

J nliiis F. iliner, il. D., dean 

S. G. Aiinior, il, D., dean 

Austin Flint, .jr., M. D., secretary 
John Towler, il. D., dean 



James Graham, 11. D., dean. . . 
J. LangCascels.il. D.,LL. D.,dean 



FrancisCarter, !M. D., dean 

B. S. Lawsou, il. D., dean 

George Mentlcuhall, M D., dean. 

Daniel Payton, M. D 

K. E. ICogers. M. D., dean 

IJ. Howard Itand, M. D., dean 

Ann Preston, M. D., dean 

I. N. Itendall, D. D., president . . . 
George E. Trescot, M. D., dean . . 



33 
103 



44 
1, 100 



213 

107 



19 
100 



.57 
212 



230 
07 

170 

172 

301 

26 

315 

CI 

40 

1C2 

18 

22 

44 

330 



231 
30 
101 

'426 
20 



42 
100 
ISO 

14 
310 
411 

CO 
3 



1,483 
320 



577 
2, 042 



1,453 



83 



Free . . 

6130 00 

130 00 

100 00 

105 00 

105 00 

120 00 

55 00 

50 00 

50 00 
Free . . 



.9 



40 CO 
20 00 
50 00 



140 00 
70 00 

120 00 

120 00 

120 00 

75 00 



07 

:20 

1,03D 



1,040 
5G0 



138 



:,o 00 
1C5 00 

1L3 00 
50 00 

105 00 
77 CO 

140 00 



110 00 
105 CO 

75 00 
100 00 
140 00 

72 00 

40 CO 
40 00 

CO 00 
25 00 
40 CO 
110 CO 
140 00 
140 CO 
105 00 



2,000 
5,000 
4,000 



1,000 



4,000 



Commencement of lecture 
course. 



July 

1st Monday in Jnno 

2d Thursday in September. 
1st Monda.y in Kovcmber. . 
1st Wednesday in Nov'ber. 
1st Mondaj' in Alay 



1st Monday in October. 



October 17 



2,000 
4,000 



1,100 
1,200 
4,500 



800 
1,500 



120 00 



November 1 . . 
October 11.... 

October 3 

October 3 

November 13 . 
February 15.. 



October 1 

October 2 

September 28 

1st "Wednesday in Nov'ber. 

October 2 

March 1 

1st Monday in October 

2d Monday in October 

2d day of October 

2d day of October 

1st Thursday in August. : . 

October 1 

1st Tuesday in September . 

October 12 

1st Tuesday in October 

1st "Wednesday in Nov'ber. 

5th day of March 

September 13 

Ist "Wednesday in October. 



1st week in October 

Ist "Wednesday in October. 



October 5 

October 5 

1st Tuesday in October . . . 

1st Friday in November 

September 4 

2d Monday in September . . 
1st Thursday in October 



lr,t Monday in November... 



1 

2 
3 
4 
5 
6 
7 
8 
9 

10 
U 

12 
13 
14 
15 
16 
17 

18 
19 
20 
21 
22 
23 
24 
25 
26 
27 
28 
29 
30 
31 
32 
33 
34 
35 
36 

37 
38 

39 
40 
41 
42 
43 
44 
45 
46 
47 
48 
49 
50 

51 

52 
53 
54 
55 
50 

5T 



T. B. Buchanan, M. D., secretary 
A. ErsTvine, M. D., dean 



203 
23 



50 00 
CO 00 



October 3.. 
October 16. 



G. Dowell, M. D., dean 

Peter Collier, Ph. D., M. D. . . . . 

S. M.iujdn, A. M., M. D 

James B. McCaw, M. D., dean . 

Jolmsnn Eliot, M. D., dean 

John C. Pvilcy, M. D., dean 



G. S. Palmer, M. D., dean . 



830 



.1. 



70 CO 
100 00 
120 00 
135 00 
133 CO 

100 00 



33, 000 
1,200 



1st Thursday in March. 

October 1 

Oetober2 

October2 

1st Monday in October. . 

October 11 



tUoth sexes admitted. 
Bion of the habeas corpus iu a portion of the State. [Note by Dr. Trescot.] 
Lebanon, Tenn., still at Memphis. [Note by Dr. Erakino.] 



474 REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF MEDICAL, DENTAL, AT^D PIIARIIA 



Name. 



Location. 



2. ^^Eclectic.'^ 

Bennett Colleao of Eclectic Medicine and Surgery. 

Eclectic iledicil Institute 

Eclectic Medical College 

Electic Medical College 



3. "Jjotanic' 



Physio-Medical Institute . 
Pliysio-Mcdical College*. .. 



4. " Homccopathic/ 



nalineniann Mndical College , 

Ilomteopatiii'- Medical ('nllego 

Homfnopiitliic- Mrdi<-;il ( 'ullL-go 

New Yfii-k ^Mcdiial Colic;:;!? lor Womenf. 

no:na}0]iatbic UospitalCollegel 

HaUuemaun Medical College 



IT. — DENTAL. 

Baltimore College of Dental Surgery 

Dental school of Harvard University 

Bosti.ii Dental Ci.Ue^'e , 

Missouri iH'iiIuU'ollego , 

New York Colb-ge <it' Dentistry , 

Ohio College of l)ental Surgery , 

Pennsylvania College of Deutal Surgery. 
Philaiielphia Dental College '. .. 



New Orleans Deutal College . 



III.— PIIAUMACEUTICAL. 

Chicago College of Pharmacy 

Departmentof Pharmacy, Io\Va WcsloyanUniver'y. 

Kansaa College of Pharinacy 

Louisville College of Pharmacy 

Maryland Collegoof Ph:irmacy 

School of Pharmacy, Uuiversity of Michigan 

Massachusetts College of Pharmacy 

Mississippi College of Pharmacy 

St. Louis Colloge of Pharmacy 

College of Pharmacy of (ho City of New York 

CoUoLioof Pli;;rmacy of Baldwin University 

CinciMiinfi (.'ollecjo of Pharmacy 

Philadelphia College of Pharmacy 

School of Pharmacy of Colanibiau College 

School of Pharmacy of Gcorgeto^vn College 

New Orleaus College of Pharmacy 



Chirago, m 

Ciueinuati, Ohio 

New Yorit City, N. Y. 
Philadelphia, Pa 



Cincinnati, Ohio . 
do 



Chicago, m , 

St. Louis. Mo 

New York City, N. Y. , 

do .: 

Cleveland, Ohio 

Philadelphia, Pa 



Baltimore, Md 

Boston, Mass 

do 

St. Louis, Mo 

New York City, N. T... 

Cincinnati, Ohio 

Philadelphia, Pa 

, do 



IBGS 
1814 

ISCG 
16-13 



1859 
1651 



1S50 

1853 
1850 
1803 
18-1 D 

16-17 



1839 
1803 



New Orleans, La. 



Chicago, HI 

Mount Pleasant, Iowa. 

Leavenworth, Kans 

Louisville, Ky 

Baltimore, Md 

Ann Arhor, Mich , 

Boston, Mass 

Jackson, Miss 

St. Louis. Mo 

New York City, N. Y. 

Eerea, Ohio , 

Cincinnati, Ohio 

Philadelphia, Pa , 

Washington, D. C 

do . 



1806 
1805 
1615 
1856 
1863 

1SC7 



1859 
1871 

1809 



1811 

1803 
1807 



1829 
1865 



1821 



New Orleans, La. 



1870 

1S65 



$25 
25 

30 



30 



10 
20-35 



•At present in aheyance ; formerly (1851-58) devoted to the medical education of both eexea; tbia 
open the college diiriug the present session, 1671-'72. [Note by Dr Curtis.) 
I Both soxea admitted. 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 
CEUTICAL INSTITUTIONS IN THE UNITED STATES— ContiDned. 



475 



President or dean. 


« 1 
1 

1 

O 
U 


O 

o 
.=1 

a 


3 

■s 

s 


S 




"0 





m 


U 


S 

a 

It 

a 


Commencement of lecture 
course. 


'A 


Miltfln Jay, M. D., dean 


14 

7 
7 


103 

213 

70 


"'is'i' 


$30 00 
70 00 
105 00 




October 3 ... . 


1 




October IG 




EobcrtS. Kewtou, M. D., pri-s't.. 


500 




1 




4 


Win H Conlv A. il H D doan 


G 






75 CO 




October 10 


■\ 


A. Curtis A. il. il. B., dean 













F. A. Lord M. T)., rp"i.slrar 


15 


113 




85 00 




2d Thursday in October 


1 











Ifi 


94 

47 

80 

134 

"'27' 


341 

"too' 

CC4 


100 00 
105 CO 
Oil CO 
100 00 

100 00 
110 00 




2d Tuesday in October 










n. F. Eiii^ar, M. D., rcjristrar 

H- K. Gucrnsej, U. D., dean 

F. J. S. Gorfcas, M. P., dean 

N. C. Kei'n, M. D., dt- an 


17 
U 

10 

8 


2, 


000 


Last Wednesday in Sept 

2d Monday in October 


5 








First ^V"ednesdayiuNov'be^ 










lIomcrJndd.]\I.D.,D.D.S..deaii.. 


9 

8 
7 
7 
7 

8 

3 
3 


20 
30 
30 
74 
73 

23 
43 


37 

47 
210 

iao 

23 
3 


100 no 
ir.o 00 
100 00 
100 00 
100 00 

100 00 

30 00 
35 00 








Frank Abbott, M. I)., dcau 




October 15 - 


5 


J. Talt, D. D. S.. dean 


ICO 






E. Wildmar, il. D.. D. D. fi.. doan 




7 


J. H. ilcQuillcu, M. D., D. D. S., 








dean. 
Jas. S. Knapp, D. D. S., doan 




November 27 


r\ 


A. E. Elicrt, dean 


eoo 


Fi rst Mon day in October 


\ 


John "WhfoUT, P. D., president.. 


•2 














F. C. Mdlcr, secretary 














4 


J. Urown Uaxlev, president 


3 
3 
3 


45 

30 


110 


30 00 




October 10 


5 


A. B. Presc;)tt, M. I) 








George T. II. llarkoo, dean 




30 00 






7 














"W. n. CrawI'or<l, piesident. 


3 
3 
3 
3 
3 
•J 
3 






10 CO 
30 CO 
43 CO 
30 00 
30 CO 
4) 00 
40 00 






9 


U. A. Cafssobecr. Jr. enei-etary . . . 


90 


157 
22 


5o0 


September 25 


10 


E. S. Wayne, dean , 






10 


Kobert Bridges. M.D., dean 


242 
12 

20 


821 


*-, 


500 


October 1 - . 


13 


John C. Rilev, M. D 


lat Monday in October 

October 2 


14 


Johnson EHot, il. B.. dean 




15 


S. Logan, M. D-, duan 




October 15 


IG 



















gave rise to the preccdin;; Xo. 1 ' 
(For fcmalo students only. 



Eotanic ;" charter baa not been surrendered, and it is propoaed to 



476 



REPORT OP THE COSEVIISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 



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r^ ni eomn 



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STATISTICAL TABLES. 



477 









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■ .- ° '>">'^ 



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to 



478 



REPORT OP THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 



n 

a 

« 

o 
o 

H 
O 

y, 

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W 

1-1 

O 

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1-1 

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STATISTICAL TABLES. 



479 



■ o o 



oo 
o ^ 

^7. ;a 



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fiat 



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a so 

000 



PL- 00 -coo- 

1 ■mT o o L-: ^ - 

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480" 



REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 






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STATISTICAL TABLES. 



431 



S2 



r^ O C- O O O — Q 'H 

e e « « o e « 



S c; t3 r- 1.-1 r- J- P; •— LT o 

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29* 



482 



REPORT OP THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 



SUMMAET OF EXAMINATIONS FOE ADMISSION TO THE UNITED STATES 
MILITAKT ACADEMY FOR FIFTEEN TEAES, FEOM 1650 TO 1870, INCLUSIVE. 





i 


1 

1 


Eejected. 




CI 

1 


On what account. 






Literary incompetency. 


Appointed from— 


In the year— 


a 
■S 

tJD 
B 

d 


Deficient In— 








X) 

6 
"A 


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3 

X) 

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2i 




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1 
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1 
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2 
3 


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1 


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3 

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1 




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1 




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32 
10 
15 
22 
11 

4 
32 
55 
67 
24 

6 
60 
18 
26 
32 
43 
29 
11 
24 
48 

5 

7 
14 
27 
157 
32 

"J 
127 

7 
oo 

i 

13 

46 

10 

27 

6 

4 

5 

3 

4 

3 

2 

4 

1 

1 

192 


20 

7 

12 

14 

6 

4 

23 

47 

46 

19 

3 

43 

14 

2-J 

25 

42 

20 

9 

16 

32 

4 

1 

12 

25 

128 

26 

80 

3 

101 

7 

17 

33 

5 

12 

34 



20 

5 

2 

4 

3 

4 

3 

2 

...... 

1 
170 


12 
3 
3 

8 
5 

'""9' 
8 

21 
5 
3 

17 
4 
4 
7 
1 
9 
2 
8 

16 
1 
6 
2 
2 

29 
6 

31 
1 

26 

'"'5' 

15 

3 

1 

12 
4 

7 
1 
2 

1 

■"■"4" 

"22 


1 
1 

"2' 

.... 




1 
.. 

'2 


1 

'2 

i 

i 

i 


'2 

i 

1 

i 

'2 
1 

'2 
i 

i 


1 
•3 

i 
3 

'2 
i 
2 

"' 

i 
i 

i 


i 

i 

1 

'2 


i 

2 

i 

2 
1 
1 

i 
i 
"i 


2 

'2 
3 
'2 

i 
i 


i 

1 
1 
1 

'2 


1 

i 

2 
2 

'2 






. 3 
. 1 

. 2 


1 


4 

1 

'3 

1 

i 


11 

3 
6 
5 

9 

19 
4 
3 

17 
3 
4 
5 
1 
8 
2 
7 

15 
1 
6 
1 
1 

25 
6 

27 
1 

20 

■4" 
12 
3 
1 
11 
3 
5 
1 
2 
1 

.... 

W 


5 
1 


T 




3 

1 

i 


"i ! 
1 

i '. 

2 

1. 






3 




2 
2 

"f 

5 
17 
4 
2 
8 


3 
3 


"2 

2 
1 
8 
3 

'5 









; '4 
. 3 
2 1 




4 


Florida 






5 




1 
1 


1 
1 


1 




3 








'. 3 




5 
1 



i 


1 


Kentucky 

Louisiana 


.... 

"2" 

"i 

"'i' 
1 

.... 

1 
4 

4 

h' 
.... 

3 

... 

1 
2 

"3' 


1 

i 
1 

2 
1 
3 

i 

'3 
i 


6 
1 

!1 


Maryland 






i! 


'. "3 


1 








6 
2 

12 


'4 
6 


3 
1 
4 

7 


h 

1 


» 






Mississippi 


'2! 

"2 
i 

i '. 
i' 


! '2 
. 1 

. i 

i '4 
. 1 

2 1 

; i 
1 3 

! "i 




6 
4 

'2 

i 

7 
5 
6 

i 

1 

4 


s 




1 








3 


1 


3 


1 


New nampshire . . 

New Jersey 

New York 

North Carolina . . . 
Ohio 


1.. 


1 




1 
6 
4 
9 
1 
10 

"'3' 
3 
3 

"'e' 
1 

3 


1 


15 
2 
18 


1 
1 

13 




1 
3 

4 

i 

3 

2 

'3 
1 


10 

.. 
6 

'5 

1 

'3 
1 

1 


6 
1 
4 






Pennsylvania 

Rhode Island 

Sonth Carolina 

Tennessee 

Texiis 


13 

2 
10 
1 
1 
8 
2 
3 
1 
1 
1 

"i' 
"7' 


6 

"4 

'4 
1 
1 


4 

3 
2 

I 


Vermont 






% 


West Virginia 

Wisconsin 




Colorado Ter 

New Mexico 

"Utah Ter 


2'i 


'3 


2 

i 
'7 


1 
'7 


1 

"3' 

"i 


1 
2 

6 

80 


1 

'■ 
3 

'9 

98 


- 


Washington Ter . . 

Dakota Ter 

Arizona Ter 


i 






Wyoming Ter .... 


'« 






Grand totals . . 


1,459 


1,133 


326 


41 


16 


10 


14 


16 


9 


u 


11 


8 


13 


,3 


151 


4 36 


23 


70 


285 


173 


76 


133 


81 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 



483 



Continned.— SFMIIAET OF EXAMINATIONS FOE ADMISSIOIT TO THE TJNTTED 
STATES lUHTAJlY AND NAVAL ACADEMIES DDEING THE YEAR 1871. 





TJ. S. MILITAKT ACADEMY. 


U. S. NAVAL ACADEMY. 




i 

1 

a 
Q 
d 

•a 


■i 

S 
& 
g 

i 


REJECTED. 


i 

1 


•3 

g 

<) 


REJECTED. 




1 


On what acconnt. 


1 


On what acconnt. 


STATES 
AND 


i 
•a 

J 


For deficiency in — 




For deficiency in— 


TEEPJTOKIES. 


ti 

a 
■■3 

A 
1 


P c 

6 


.2 

1 


o 
a; 

o 

6 

;^ 

3 


a 

1 

o 

6 

S 
1 


pi. 

c 

a 

d 

3 
1 


tic 

2 
K 


1^. 

1^ 


5 
* 


6 t 






i 


d 

1 
1 


^ 


i 


d 


1 


d 
S5 


d c 


il 




4 
1 


1 


3 
1 








1 
1 


















































2 
1 


1 

1 


1 








1 




1 






' i 


1 








1 


























































4 




4 
1 
1 
2 


1 






2 
1 

1 


2 


2 

i 
1 


3 

"i 


3 
5 
6 


3 
3 
4 
















Uliiiois 


3 S 






2 






2 
2 


2 
2 


2 
1 


1 




4 
4 
1 
7 
2 
1 


3 
2 
1 
4 
3 
1 












o 




1 










































Keutucky 


3 


.... 




^ 


2 


2 


3 


a 


2 
1 
1 

4 
2 

1 
3 
3 


1 

1 
1 
2 
2 

"i 
s 

3 


1 








1 


































































2 






1 


1 


1. 






4 


3 


1 


1 


































1 








1 


1 




































3 
4 


3 

1 


















1 






1 


1 


1 






3 






2 






1 


o 


































1 


1 






















































1 
2 
11 

5 


1 
2 
9 
1 
3 

1 

"i 

3 


















2 
15 


1 
10 


1 
5 












1 

3 


1 

2 


















2 




1 






2 

1 
2 






2 
1 
1 


2 
2 


1 


9 












9 
1 
13 

2 


8 
1 
8 
1 


1 






1 


.... 




1 


1 


























5 
1 


2 
1 




1 


1 




3 

1 


2 


5 
1 

5 


4 
1 

1 
2 


1 

1 




3 


3 


3 


o 


Ilhode*I<?lancl 


















1 








4 
o 

1 
5 

1 
2 


3 
o 

1 

1 
1 
1 


1 








1 






1 


1 










Texas 




































2 
1 


1 

1 


1 








1 








4 


1 




1 


2 




2 


2 




























1 






1 


1 




1 


1 


2 

1 


2 

1 






































1 


1 












































































































Idaho Tcr 






























































1 
1 


1 
1 


















1 

1 


1 
1 
































































"Waaliin^ion Ter 


















1 


1 










































































♦1 
17 


1 

15 


















13 


10 


3 


2 






1 








2 






1 


2 
21 


1 
111 


1 














Total 


110 


77 


42 


11 


3 


ID 


Vh4 


24 


2S 


97 


7] 


26 


3 




15 


0.. 











*A Japanese student. 



484 REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 

STATISTICS OF NOBIIAL 



Name. 



Location. 



■a 



Principal. 



1 State Normal School 

2 Arkadelpbia Normal School 

3 Girls' Normal School 

4 State Normal School 

5 State Normal School 

i6 Normal IJDi versity 

'7 East Florida Seminary 

i8 West Florida Seminary 

9 Normal dep't Atlanta "University — 

10 State Normal University 

11 Cook County Normal School 

12 Normal class of WestfleUl College... 

13 Normal dep't of Eureka College 

14 Addison Teachers' Seminary 

15 Connty Normal School 

16 Southern Illinois Normal University 

17 Connty Normal Schools 

18 City Normal School 

19 Northwestern German-English Nor- 

mal SchooL 

20 State Normal School 

21 City Training School 

22 City Training School 

23 Normal dep't of Iowa Collece 

24 Teachers' dep't of Tabor College 

25 Normal dep't ot Iowa University. . . 

26 City Training School 

27 State NormalSchool 

23 Ely Normal School 

2i) Normal course of Georgetown Coll . 

30 Normal department Berea College. . . 

31 New Orleans Normal School 

32 Normal dep't Straight University 

33 Eastern State Normal School 

34 Western State Normal School 

35 State Normal School 

36 County Normal School 

37 State Normal School 

38 State Normal School 

39 State Normal School 

40 State Normal School 

41 City Normal School 

42 City Normal School 

43 Girls' lligh and Normal School 

44 State Normal School 

45 First State Normal School -■ 

40 Second State Normal School 

47 Third State Normal School 

48 State Normal 

49 Normal and Manual Labor School. . . 

50 North Missouri State Normal School 

51 Fruitland NormalSchool 

52 State Normal School 

53 Coil.of NormalInstruct'n,Univ.of Mo. 

54 Central Normal School 

55 City Normal School 

56 State Normal School 

57 State Normal School 

58 Farnum Preparatory School 

59 State Normal School 

60 State Normal School 

61 State Normal School 

62 Liberty Normal Institute 

63 State Normal School 

64 State Normifl School 

65 State Normal School 

66 State Normal School 

C7 State Normal School 

68 State Normal School 

6!) Normal CoUegeof City of New York. 

70 Normal departm't Ingham University. 

71 Normal College, University of N. C. - 

72 St. Augustine Normal School 

73 Central Normal School 

74 Western Keserve Normal School 

75 Northwestern Normal School 



Talladega, Ala 

Arkadelphia, Ark . . 
San Francisco, Cal . 

San Jo86, Cal 

New Britain, Conn . 
Wilmington, Del ... 

Gainsviile, Fla 

Fla 



1869 
1869 
1862 
1849 
1867 



Bov. John Jordan ... 

Ellis E. Holmes 

W.T. Lucky, A. M. , D.D 
Isaac N. CaVlctou, A. M. 
John C. Harkness . . . 



Atlanta, Ga . 

Normal, 111 

Englewood, 111 

Westfield.IU , 

Eureka, 111 

Addison, HI 

Peoria, 111 

Carbondale, 111 

Bureau County, HI. 

Chicago, III 

Galena, III 



Terre Ilaute, Tnd 

Fort Wayne, Ind 

Indianapolis, Ind 

Grinnell, Iowa 

Tabor, Iowa 

Iowa City, Iowa 

Davenport, Iowa 

Emporia, Kans 

Louisville, Ky 

Georgetown, Ky 

BeMa, Ky 

New Orleans, La 

New Orleans, La 

Castine, Me , 

Farmington, Me 

Baltimore, Md 

Alleghany County, Md. 

WestlieUi, Mass 

Framingham, Mass 

Salem. Mass 

Bridgewater, Mass 

Boston, Mass 

Worcester, Mass 

Boston, Mass 

Ypsilanti, Mich 

Winona. Minn 

Maukatn, Minn 

St. Cloud, Minn 

Holly Sprinf^s, Miss 

Tngaloo. Miss 

Kirksville, Mo 

Fruitland, Mo 

Warrensburgh, Mo 

Columbia, Mo 

Sedalia, Mo 

St. Lonis. Mo 

Peru, Nebr 

Trenton, N.J 

Beverly, N.J 

Plymouth, N. H 

Albany, N.T 

Oswego, N. Y 

Libertv.N.Y 

Brockport. N.T 

Cortland, N.Y 

Fredonia, N. Y 

Potsdam.N.Y 

Buffalo, N.Y 

Gencsoo, N. T 

New York, N.Y 

LeKov.N.Y 

Chapel Dill, N.C 

Raleiffh.N.C 

Wortuington, Ohio 

Milan, Ohio 

Ada^ Ohio 



E. A. Ware, A. M .. . 
i>. S. Wentwortii .... 
H. W." Everest,' A. M. . . . 



1868 
1869 



1860 

1867 
1867 

1867 



1866 
1863 
1864 



1858 
1869 

1807 
1H63 
1665 



1839 
1839 

1854 
1840 



A. Etbridgo . 
j.WeVnii .!. 



W. A. Jones, AM... 

Mary H. Swann 

Amanda F. Funnell . 
George F. Magoun, D. D 



S.N.Fellows 

Mrs. M. A. Mcgonegal. 
George W. Hoss, A. M. , 



N. M. Crawford, D. D ... 
E.H.Fairchild.D.D... 

Mrs. K. Shaw 

J. W.Hcaley 

J.T.Fletcher, A.M... 

C. C. Ivounds. M. S 

M. A. Newell 



1852 
1847 



J. W, Dickinson, A.M.. 

Annie E. Johnson 

D. B. Hagar, A. M 

A. J.Boyden.A.M.... 



1867 
1869 
1871 
1867 



1857 
1867 



1870 
184 i 
1861 

1866' 
1866 
1867 
1860 
1867 
1867 



Ephraim Hunt 

D. P. Mavhe w 

Wm. F. Phelps, A. M 

Geo. M.Gage 

Ira Moore 

S. W. Garmen 



J. Baldwin 

J.H.Kerr 

Geo. P. Beard, A. M. 
D.Kead,LL.D 



Anna C. Erackett . - . 
U.H. Straight, A.B., 
Lewis M. Johnson, A.M. 
Lewis M. Johnson, A.M. 
Prof. S. U. Pearl, A M 
J. Alden, D.D., LL.D. . 

E.A.Sheldon ■ 

M.B.HaU 



Henry S. Randall 

Jno.W. Armstrong, D.D. 
M.Mc Vicar, Ph.D.,LL.D 



1857 



T. Hunter, A.M 

S.D.Burcbard, D.D.. 

S.Pool 

Rev.J. B.Smith, D.D 
W. Mitchell & J. Ogden. 



H. S.Lehr., 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 

SCHOOLS IS THE T7NITED STATES. 



485 





.3 

"Si 

il 


NUMBER OF STU- 
DENTS. 


1! 


1 

(S 



■si" 

|i 


ill 


H 

•A 




1 


6 
1 




1 


1 


Time of anniversary. 


1 






















o 


3 

9 
3 
5 



83 

"32" 
10 
59 


102 
250 
132 
114 

27 


185 
250 
104 
li4 

80 












September 25. 
July. 

May. 


3 


"253' 

24 
10 


3 years.. 
2 years.. 


400 
1,500 








$8,000 00 




.5 




6 


3 years 








Last week in May. 


"1 










8 

























6 


108 


59 


167 




2 years. . 










10 


3 years. - 


3,000 


12,50000 


8100 to 200 


Third Thnrsday in Jnn& 


11 


2 


13 


70 


83 




12 














13 


3 


"'93' 


13 


40 
93 














14 














15 














16 






















17 






















18 






















19 


6 

8 


203 
61 


118 
74 


321 
135 




3 years.. 
2to4yT8 


250 






First Monday of Sept. 


20 






91 










22 


1 
3 




















91 


66 




66 














24 














9i 






















9(i 






















27 


4 


81 


106 


187 




3 years. . 










98 












29 


2 




















sn 


















Jnne 26. 


31 


16 
3 
7 

7 
6 


















Ttiird Saturday in Jnne. 


33 










3 years 










33 
34 


44 
93 

24 


96 

49 

139 


140 
142 
163 




2year3.. 


1,200 


2, 000 00 

4, 400 00 
8,000 00 


180 00 


Third Thursday in March. 


a'i 


2 years.. 


500 




Last Thursday in May. 


3(i 






37 

3fl 


7 
9 
9 
7 


17 


118 
98 

152 
96 


135 
98 
152 
134 




2to4yra 


1,300 

900 

8,000 

5,000 


8,500 00 
8, 600 00 
8, 500 00 
8, 500 00 


160 00 
103 00 
175 00 
200 00 


Third Thursday in Jnly. 


39 






L,ast of Jan., &. Ist July. 


40 








41 








4" 






















43 


33 
10 

8 
8 
4 

1 


"m 
57 
43 

15 
32 


630 
10 
159 
111 

67 

1« 


630 
129 
216 
154 
82 
50 




3 to 4 yrs 








September. 


44 




10,000 00 
5, 000 00 






45 
46 


2 years.. 


3,000 


160 00 


Fourth week in Jnne. 


47 


2 years . . 










48 












4<t 












50 


13 
2 
5 
5 


193 


128 


321 

52 
87 
30 


"ii' 












51 


6 years . . 










n" 


42 
20 


45 
10 












53 




3,000 




140 to 200 


Last Thursday in July. 


54 









55 


6 
4 

7 
6 
8 
14 












91 

50 
3,000 
1,000 


3, 531 95 


75 14 

150 no 

150 00 
ICO 00 
24 00 

leo 00 

100 00 




"iB 


41 
36 
24 


51 

256 
101 


92 
292 
125 




3 years.. 




fi7 


10, 000 00 
2, 400 00 


Last Thursday Jan.&Jtme 


53 






51 








60 


"'ss' 


275 
344 


275 

432 

77 


1,879 
314 




1,200 
241 


16, 000 00 
16,000 00 




61 




Jnly 8 and Febmary 4. 

Julys. 


62 




63 












750 


12,000 00 




64 


is' 

13 


60 


75 


135 










65 














66 




















67 




















68 






















60 


27 




804 


804 














70 














71 






















72 


o 


39 


34 


73 












September 87. 


73 












74 






















75 


3 


80 


51 


131 




4 years.. 











486 REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION 

STATISTICS OP NORMAl 



Kame. 



Location. 



6t ■ 
b P 
O O 

O °3 

n 



Principal. 



76 
77 
78 
79 
80 
81 
82 
83 
84 
85 
86 
87 
88 
89 
90 
91 
92 
93 
94 
95 
96 
97 
98 
99 
100 
101 
102 
103 
104 
105 
106 
107 
108 
109 
110 
111 
112 
113 
114 



Orvrell Normal Institnte 

National Normal School 

McNeely Normal School 

Teachers' Institute of Oherlin College. 
Normal dep't Wilberforce University. 
Normal dep't Mount Union College. . . 
Normal dep't Willamette University. 

Normal course Pacific University 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

Girls' Normal School 

Normal departm't Lincoln University. 

Normal course Palatinate College 

State Normal School 

Normal class Avery Institnte 

Normal class Fish University 

Normal dep't Central Tenn. College. . 

Normal Department 

Normal dep't East Tenn.WesleyanUn. 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

Hampton Normal Institute 

Kichmond Normal School 

State Normal School 

Normal department Storer College . . . 
Normal dop't West Virginia College . 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

State Normal School 

Normal department Ripon College . . . 

State Normal School 

St.ate Normal School 

Stnto Normal School 

Normal dop't Howard University 

Normal dep't University of Deseret. 



Orwell, Ohio 

Lebanon, Ohio .. 

Hopedale, Ohio 

Oherlin, Ohio 

Near Xenia, Ohio. . . 

Mount Union, Ohio 

Salem, Oreg 

Forest Grove, Oreg 

Millorsvillo, Pa 

Edinborough, Pa 

liloomsburgh, Pa 

Mansiield, Pa 

Kutztown, Pa 

Philadelphia, Pa 

Oxford, Pa 

Myerstown, Pa 

Bristol. E. I 

Charleston, S. C 

NashviIle,Tenn 

Nashville. Tenn 

Lookout Mountain, Tenn. 

Athens, Tenn 

Johnson, Vt 

Eandolph,Vt 

C.astlcton, Vt 

Hampton, Va. . 
Kichmond, Va. 



18GS 
i852 



1859 
1861 
1869 
1862 
1866 
1848 
1854 



1852 



H. U. Johnson 

A. Holbrook 

W. Brinkerhoof „ 

Jas. H. Fairchild, D. D . 

D. A. Payne, D.D 

O. N. Hartshorne, LL.D. 

L. J. PoweU, A. M 

S. H. Marsh, D. D 

E. Brooks, A.M 

J. A.Cooper 

H. Carver, A.M 

C. U. VcrriU, A. M 

J. S. Enneutraut 

G.W. Fetter 

LN.EendaU,D.D 

H. E. Nicks, A.M 



1666 
1866 



West Liberty, W. Va 

H.arper'8 Ferry, W. Va 

Flomington, W. Va 

Marshall Coll. P. O., W. Va. 

Fairmont, W. Va 

Whitew.ater, Wis 

Ripon, Wis 

I'lattevUle, Wis 

Madison, Wis 

O.shkosh, Wis 

Washington, D. C 

Salt Lake City, Vtah 



1867 
1867 
1868 
1868 
1867 
1870 



1868 
1869 
1866 



1866 
1862 
1867 



Prof. Spence 

J. Braden.A.M 

C. F. P. Bancroft, A. M 
N. E.Cobleigh,D.D.... 
S.H.Pe.arl 

E. Conant 

E.G. Williams 

S. C.Armstrong 

Andrew Washburn 

F. H.Crago 

N.C.Brackett,A.M.... 
Eev.A.D. William8,A.M 

S. E. Thompson 

J.BI.air 

Oliver Aroy, A.M 

W. E. Merfiman, A. M.. 
E. A.Charl6ton 



Qen.O.O.IIoword, LL.D. 
John R Patk, U. D 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 

SCHOOLS IN THE UNITED STATES— Continned. 



487 





.a 

|s 

•A 


KUMBER OP STU- 
DENTS, 


h 

.2 t3 
to 


1 
1 

1 




"ok 


a 






•i 


1 


1 


Time of anniyeraary. 


Tfi 


4 
4 
6 


120 

239 
110 


120 
145 
165 


240 
384 
175 


8 








$150 00 


June 22. 


77 










78 


43 








150 00 


Jane 231 


70 










CO 


"4 

"2' 

8 

8 
10 
11 


16 


15 


31 

242 

31 














n 














f^ 





31 














m 














P4 


460 
173 
210 
112 


267 
110 
151 
110 


747 
2S5 
361 
222 






3,900 

1,662 

630 

2,000 


$5,00000 
5, 000 00 
5, 000 00 
5, 000 00 


200 00 
170 00 
184 00 
178 00 


Third Thursday in July. 


m 






Rfi 






Third Thursday in June. 


R7 








RR 








Rl 


11 
2 








1,019 




500 


11, 925 24 


2 75 


February and July. 


•to 


9 




9 






11 














q.i 






















q? 






















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15 


2 
1 


32 
21 


20 
12 


52 
33 














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98 
346 
19 
86 
40 
82 
167 
39 














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9 










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500 




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160 00 




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36 
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400 






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105 














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80 


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190 












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2 


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488 



STATISTICAL TABLES. 






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EDUCATION AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 









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?l 



APPENDIX. 



THE DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THE UNITED STATES, 

UNDER THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM OF EQUAL RELIGIOUS RIGHTS 

TO ALL, WITHOUT STATE PREFERENCES OR STATE 

SUPPORT TO ANY FORM OF FAITH. 



A condensed summary of the origin, rise, progress, growth, doctrines, and 
present condition of each reHgious sect and denomination in the United 
States, explaining, from the writinga of each, the points in which they 
differ from the others, and giving the localities in which they are most 
numerous. To which is added the progress and present condition of each 
denomination in the education of the ministry, in denominational or 
sectarian schools, in Sunday schools, in the number and elegance of their 
houses of worship, and in the support of Home and Foreign Missions, 
Bible, Tract, and Publication Societies, and other benevolent and charitable 
institutions, entirely devoid of sectarianism. 



The Gro^wtli and Progress of Eeligions Denominations 
in the United States for the past Hundred Years. 



The religious character of the Colonies in 
1770, was substantially that vvhicli liad been 
imposed on thera at the time of their lirst 
settlement, and was of necessity very tliverse 
in ditl'erent sections. Massachusetts and 
Connecticut, (or rather the ditf'erent colonies 
which iiad united under these names) had been 
founded liy the Puritans or Indejiendents, 
Beceders fiom tlie Ciuirch of England, wlio 
had organized sometimes as independent 
cliurclies during the reigns of .James I. and 
Charles I. Tliese were, in 1770, the pre- 
dominant churches — '■ the standing order," 
as they were termed, and the e,-tabiished re- 
ligious body of the colonies, though Episco- 
palians, Baptists, a few Metliodists, a' d a 
considerable number of " Sef)aratrs " were 
tolerated, and by " signing otr'" or avowing 
themselves adherents to one or tlie otlier of 
these denominations, and pledging them- 
pelves to sustain it, their ecclesiastical taxes 
could be, in part, remitted. The '' Sepa- 
rates" were mainly converts under the 
preaching of Whitfield and his followers in 
174ii-5(», who were opposed to an estab- 
lished church, and believed in the voluntary 
sysiem. Maine was largely set' led from 
Massachusetts, and followed its lead in re- 
ligious matters. New Hampshire had two 
distinct religious elements in its early set- 
tlement — the Puritan or Con^jregational — 
and the Presbyterian, represented by the 
Protestant Irish settlers of several of its 
towns. At the period we sjieak of there was 
a larger measure of toleration of other de- 
nominations there than in Massachusetts. 
Khoile Island iiad been settled by Baptists 
driven from Massachusetts a hundred and 
forty y ars before, on account of their avow- 
al of their religious belief. It was the only 
one of the New England colonies in winch, 
even at that time (1770.) there was complete 
liberty of conscience, and is population were 
of all denominations. Baptists, Quakers, Sep- 
ar.it(!s. Independents, Presbyterians, Epi~(-o- 
palians. Koman Catholics, Filth Monarchy 
Men, etc., etc Vermont, or " New Hamp- 



shire Grants," was not an independent State 
till after the Revolution, and its few inhab- 
itants were of all shades of religious belief, 
or of none, at this time. New York, origi- 
nally settled by the Dutch, liad had the Re- 
formed Dutch or Holland Church for iis es- 
tablished church till 1G84, but after its con- 
quest by the English the church of England 
had in turn become the established religion, 
and under some of the colonial governors, 
Presbyterians, Baptists, and Quakers were 
persecuted and imprisoned. Ihis persecu- 
tion had, however, cea'^ed some years before 
this period, and though the Episcopal church 
was still the state church, its prestige waned 
subsequently during the years of the revolu- 
tion, from the fact that, in that co!ony, the 
greater part of its members were tories, and 
sympathizers with the British. The Pres- 
byterians were considerably numerous in 
New York, the Baptists and Methodists le s 
so, and there were a few Roman Catholics. 

Pennsylvania had been settled by the 
Quaker Penn, for a refuge for the sorely 
persecuted Quakers of England and Amer- 
ica, but it was open to all denominations, and 
to those who had no religious beliefs. The 
Quakers or Friends were predominant in 
numbers, but Episcopalians, Presbyti'rians, 
Baptists, Methodists, Lutherans, and Roman 
Catholics, w( re all received cordially. 

New Jersey and Delaware had a moder- 
ate S\vedi,~h and Danish (Lutheran) ele- 
ment, but the former had a much larger con- 
stituency of Iri-h Presbyterians, and was, 
before the Revolution, probably the most 
thoroughly Presljyieriiui colony of the whole 
thirteen. There was not, however, at this 
time, so far as we can learn, anything like 
an esiablished church in the colony. 

Mar^'land wiis founded and settled by 
Lord Bahimore and his kinsmen, tlie Cal- 
verts and Carrolls, all of them Roman Cath- 
olics; but to their honor, be it said, there 
was comiilete religious toleration from the 
fir~t, and in 1770 the Catholics had but a 
slight majoJ'ity among the inhabitants ; stUI 



RULIOIOL3 DliSUMINATIO.NS. 



493 



it was the predominant faitli of the people of 
the colony. 

Virginia, settled by the younger sons of 
the English nobility and their friends at fir.-t, 
and its popnlation subsequently largely in- 
creased by tlie great number of" redeniption- 
ers," (paupers, convicts, etc., sent over and 
sold for a term oi years to pay for their pass- 
age.) had up to the commencement of the 
Revolution, recognized the church of Eng- 
land as the established church of the colony, 
and at times had persecuted sharply other 
denominations. Through the iuHuence of 
such men as Patrick Henry, Thomas Jeffer- 
son, and others, who, though not religious 
men themselves, yet saw the necessity for re- 
ligious liberty, that principle was incorpo- 
rated in its first constitution as a State. 

North Carolina and South Carolina were 
settled largely by Protestant Irish (Presby- 
terians,) Huguenots (Protestant Reformed 
Church,) Mora\ians, and other Germans, 
mostly Protestant ; their constitutions and 
charters were favorable to religious liberty. 

Georgia, the youngest of the colonies, was 
largely settled by the followers of Whitfield 
and Wesley, and was, moreover, a refuge for 
persecuted Protestant.s from the states of 
continental P^urope. The largest religious 
liberty existed here from the fii'st. 

Such was the religious, or rather denomi- 
national history of the thirteen colonies when 
they came together by their representatives 
in the Continental Congress. Every form 
of christian belief then known, had its ad- 
herents in one colony or another. Most of 
them assimilated to a considerable extent 
by their years of intercourse during the war, 
abolished all restrictions on complete relig- 
ious liberty (where any existed) before the 
adoption of the constitution, but Massachu- 
setts and Connecticut retaiued theirs till the 
adoption of new and revised constitutions in 
the early part of the present century. It is 
to be said in their favor, however, that these 
restrictions were not, after the revolution, so 
sevi're or onerous as those under which the 
dissenters in England groan to-day. 

Meanwhile there had grown up a second 
t'er of States beyond the AUeghanies, which 
were now knocking for admission to the Union. 
What were the religious denominations to 
be found in tliese ? In general, we may an- 
swer, that they were the same with those of 
the States from which most of their inhabit- 
ants had come. Thus Ohio, settled largely 



from New England, especially in its north- 
ern half, had a predominance of Congrega- 
tionalists, with some Methodists and Bap- 
tists in that section, and in the southern por- 
tion which was peopled from Peimsylvania 
and Virginia, a large proportion of Presby- 
terians, Lutherans, Quakers, and many Ger- 
man Methodists, with some Episcopalians 
and Baptists. Kentucky and Tennessee had 
at this time more of the Presbyterian ele- 
ment, modified by the great awakening of 
1801-2 to the Cumberland Presbyterian 
creed, while Baptists and Methodists alike 
were gaining the affections of large numbers 
of the people. A few years later otiiei- forms 
of faith made great inroads into the ranks 
of the older denominations. Alabama, set- 
tled mostly from Georgia and Tennessee, 
though with some admixture of northern 
men, drawn thither by its commercial fixcili- 
ties, had many representatives of most of the 
older denominations, but did not in its early 
hi-tory give much heed to the apostles of new 
faiths. The purchase of Louisiana in 1803, 
added a considerable Catholic element to the 
religious population of the country, not only 
in Louisiana proper, but in Mississippi, and in 
the states and territories subsequently organ- 
ized west of the Mississippi. In fact there 
were scattered Catholic churches in all the 
French and Spanish forts and trading sta- 
tions throughout the northwest, and these, 
though very feeble and widely scattered, 
served as nucki for moie extensive establish- 
ments as the country was settled. Detroit, 
Michigan ; Vincennes, Indiana ; Vandalia, 
Kaskaskia, and Joliet, Illinois ; two or three 
points in Wisconsin, and as many in Illinois, 
St. Louis, and some other points in Missouri, 
Bardstown, Kentucky, and missions in Ar- 
kansas and Kansas, indicate how zealously 
the French Catholic priests had planted their 
outposts throughout the Mississippi valley. As 
yet, however, the Catholics were not strong 
anywhere in the United States, and it was not 
until immigration commenced on a large scale 
from Ireland and Germany that they attain- 
ed to a prominent position among the religious 
denominations of the country. The German 
immigration, as well as that at a later date from 
Sweden and Norway, also largely increased 
the number of Lutheran and German Reform- 
ed churches, and that from England, Scotland, 
and the north of Ireland, enured mainly to 
the benefit of the Presbyterians, and Meth' 
odists, though a minority were Baptists. 



494 



RELIGIOUS DKNOMINATIONS. 



Several denominations, some ot them now 
among the larger religions bodies of the 
country, have either originated here or 
had their principal development in the 
United States. The first of these in the 
order of time was the Shakers, or followers 
of Mother Ann Lee. This noted religious 
leader was born and lived for many years in 
England, and claimed to have received her 
first and principal revelations there ; but she 
had not a score of adherents when she came 
to the United States in 1774, and it was not 
till about 1780 that >he had any considerable 
number of disciples, and it was not till 1805 
that the societie-; of the Shakers were estab- 
lished at any great distance from their first 
center, Watervliet. The disciples, or fol- 
lowers of Alexander Campbell, were first 
organized as a distinct body of christians 
about 1810, luit did not increase very rapid- 
ly till aliout IS.'jI. Tliey are now about in 
the fifth or sixth r:\nk among the religious 
denominations of the country. 

The United Brethren in Christ, (not Mo- 
ravians, but German iMethodists.) date back 
to 17GU, wlien Ouerbein and Bochm com- 
menced their missionary labors ; but their 
principal de\'elopment has taken place during 
the present century. 

Tlie ]\Iormons organized their first com- 
munity or church hi 1831, though the pro- 
fessed revelations of Joseph Smith date some 
years earlier. Various methods of classifi- 
cation of religious and irreligious societies 
have been altem|)ted, but all of them are 
liable to some objection. The most com- 
mon classification is tliat of Roman Catholics, 
Protestants, Infidels or Unbelievers in Chris- 
tianity, and I'agans. This answers well 
enough for a generic division, but when we 
come to a minute clas ification we find a 
diificuky. The Roman Catholics, though 
divided into several orders or societies which 
are more or less hostile to eacii other, such 
as Jesuits, Dominicans, Franciscans, Bene- 
dictines, Paulists, Lazari-ts. etc., have yet 
this common bond of union that they all ac- 
knowledge allegiance to the I'ope, while 
Protestants, however we may classify them, 
will haidly come under any strict rule of 
division. One clas ilication is into Trinita- 
rians and Anti-Trinitai ians ; but to this it 
may be objected that neither party are whol- 
ly Protestant, the Roman Catholics being 
'I'rinilariaus as well as most of the Protest- 
ants, and a part of the Ba;itists, and a por- 



tion of the Anglican churches, denying that 
they are Protestants, as do likewise some of 
the Anti-Trinitarians. This division is Uable 
to the furtlier olijection that it arrays a very 
large body of religionists on one side against 
a comp.arative handful on the other. 

The division into Orthodox and Heterodox, 
is liable to the objection that there is no uni- 
versally recognized standard of Orthodoxy, 
and to call a man Heterodox because his 
belief on all points was not the same with 
that of some other man would be invidious. 
The division into Evangelical and Unevan- 
gelical is equally objectionable on the ground 
of its indefinitenes*, with the added difficulty 
that it would divide two denominations, the 
Anglican churches and the Unitarians, a 
part of each claiming and receivuig the title 
of Evangelical, and the other part rejecting 
it. The division of the denominations into 
Calvinisls and Arminians is perhaps as fair 
as any, though several denominalions have 
both classes in their membership. That into 
Baptists and Paedobaptists is faulty lecau e, 
though no Baptist, i. e. Immersionist, is a 
Paedobaptist, that is, an advocate for the bap- 
tism of infants, yet many Paedobaptists 
occasionally practice immersion, as tor exam- 
ple, the INlethudists, the Congregationalists, 
iind the Episcopalians. It is liable to another 
ditlieulty, viz., that some of the organizations 
not reputed Christian, such as the Mormons, 
practice immersion. 

In the attempted subdivision of the Infidel 
or unbelieving class, we are met with still 
greater diflicullies. The Deist, especially, if 
an Israelite, and a believer in the Old Tes- 
tament scriptures, will object strenuously to 
be ranked with the scejitic whose only God 
is nature, ai;d whose highest hope for the 
future is in annihilation, or with the Comtist 
who recognizes no divinity of greater knowl- 
edge or power than himself, or the Atlieist, 
who believes that all things are the result of 
chance. Between these extremes there are 
an infinitude of opinions, no two of winch 
can be reconciled with each other, even to 
the extent of a common classification. Of 
Paganism there are but comparatively few 
representatives — the Indian tribes in the 
West, the Chinese, who seem to be in about 
equal proportions, Buddhists, Sintuists, and 
followers of Confucius, the Alaskan Inilians, 
and Esquimaux, whose religion seems akin 
to Shamanism, the small colonies of Japanese, 
(Buddhists) and the traces of Fetictism found 



RELIGIOUS DENOMINATIONS. 



495 



in the more ignorant and supertitious of the 
Southern negroes. 

Tlie following table exhibits as accurately 
as they can be obtained from official and 
other sources, the statistics of the various 
religious and irreligious sects in the United 
States, as reported at or near the close of 



1870. The denominations have been taken 
generally in the order of their membership ; 
but the smaller churches which affiliate with 
the larger ones in their doctrines and ordi- 
nances, have been considered in the sam& 
connection, in preference to a rigid classifica- 
tion on the basis of number of members. 



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CHAPTER 11. 

mSTORT AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



I. ROMAN CATHOLICS. The adher- 
ents of the Roman Church in the United States 
were, as we have already seen, just before 
the American Revohition, except in Mary- 
land, but a very small proportion of the pop- 
ulation. They had small congregations in 
New York, Philadeljjhia, and perhaps, two 
or three other large towns. In Baltimore, 
they were the leading denomination, and in 
several towns of Maryland they had congre- 
gations. In sections which soon alter came 
into the Union as states or organized terri- 
tories, their congregations were scattered 
somewhat widely. In North Eastern Maine, 
the Arcadian settlers, mostly French or of 
French extraction, were generally devout 
Catholics ; and a few priests with their flocks 
were found along the northern line of New 
England and New York. Detroit had a 
very considerable Catholic element in its 
population from the first ; and farther west, 
at several points in Illmois, Wisconsin, Iowa, 
and especially in Missouri and below in the 
Mississippi Valley, among the French and 
Creole population of Louisiana Territory, 
churches and cathedrals were comparatively 
numerous. Farther west, in Texas and 
California, as well as in Mexico, New Mex- 
ico, and Arizona, all at this time under the 
control of Spain, and subsequently of the 
Mexican Repulilic, Catholicism had been for 
two centuries the established religion of the 
state, and Indians, Mexicans, and Spaniards 
of the pure blood were alike, nominally at 
least, enrolled among its numbers. The 
missions, churches and cathedrals, many of 
them in ruins, which dot the prairies and 
oases of the vast territory acipiired by the 
war of 1846, show that in former times, a 
very considerable, though mainly a native 
population was subservient to this faith. It 
was not, however, till after 1820, when the 
vast tide of immigration from Ireland and 
from Catholic Germany, with its occasional 
additions from France, Italy, and Spain, 



began to flow in upon us, that the Roman 
Catholic church assumed anything like its 
present proportional magnitude. Its out- 
posts were indeed already planted, and it 
had its centers of influence, its mmc/c/ around 
which it could gather its incoming hosts. 
But prior to 1820, it proliably rankeil in the 
number of its communicants not higher than 
fourth or fifth among the religious denomi- 
nations of the country. It is stated on good 
authority (that of a Roman Catholic arch- 
bishop), that more than five millions of Cath- 
olic emigrants have landed ujwn our shores 
since 1820. Of course many of them have 
apostatized ; many more have died, and their 
children have been reared in other faiths, or 
in no faith at all. In these ways only can 
we account for the fact attested by the high- 
est Roman Catholic authority, that their 
communicants do not to-day numljer o\er 
3,500,1)00. Their clergy have not been want- 
ing in zeal or fidelity to their faith ; and no 
denomination in the country has provided so 
well or so promijtly for the maintenance of 
religious worship as they. They have not 
been persecuted for their faith, or their num- 
bers would be larger; but there has been 
on the part of immigrants a strong disposi- 
tion, on coming to this country, to throw off 
all religious restraints under the impression 
that this was one of the requisites of national 
freedom. 

Wit!) this brief sketch of its history, we 
proceed to give the leading doctrines of the 
Koman Catholic Church, stating them in 
this case, as we shall in that of all the other 
denominations, in the exact language of their 
own ablest and most representative writers, 
as the only course which will render strict jus- 
tice to each denominaiion. The late Arch- 
bishop Kenrick of Baltimore.one of the ablest 
writers and most accomplished scholars of 
the Roman Church, thus states its doctrines : 
"The chief doctrines of the Church regard 
the unity of the divine nature iu thiee dis- 
(49G) 



UISTllltV AND PROGRESS OF TtlE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



497 



tiiict divine persons, and the incarnation of 
the second divine person, through the m3's- 
terious o|)eratioiis of the Holy Spirit in the 
Virgin Mary, and his death on the cross for 
the expiation of tlie sins of manliind. The 
helivf of thf. incarnation is the ground and 
inutive of tlu higli veneration wliicli is enter- 
tained for the Virgin, who is styled Motlier of 
God, because Clirist her son is God incarn- 
ate." (Since tlie death of Ab'p Kenrick, the 
dogma of the Immaculate Conception of the 
Virgin Mary, regarding her as born as free 
from sin as Chri-t himself, has been pro- 
claimed by the Pope as a fundamental doc- 
trine of the church.) " To her is ascribed 
all sanctity and perfection which can be 
bestowed on a mere creature, and she is held 
to have been free from all stain of sin by a 
.special iirivilege granted her, tiiat she might 
be worthy of the dignity for which she was 
(.livinely t'hoseii. The mystery of the re- 
dcni[)tion is prominent in the teaching and 
worsliii) of ilie church. Christ suffered and 
died, as man, to atone for the sins of our first 
parents, and the sins of all mankind. His 
death fully expiated the guilt of sin, and 
])re<euted an atonement in every respect per- 
fect. Yet all men are not justified and 
saved, but those only to whom the redemp- 
tion is applied l)y means divinely prescribed. 
IJaptism is believed to be a remedy for orig- 
inal sin, applicable even to infants. Adulis 
having the use of reason must believe in } 
Christ and repent of sin, in order to receive 
the benetit of the atonement. From those 
who iiave forfeited baptismal grace, frui;s of 
penance are required as evidences of their 
sincere conversion to God, and as conthtions 
to entitle them to the application of the mer- 
iis of Christ. Nothing that man can do, can 
take away the guilt of siu, or prove an ade- 
quate satisfaction for it; but God requires 
the humiliation of the sinner, and accepts his 
penitential works, wliich derive value from 
the random offered by Christ. They add 
nothing to it, but they become acceptable 
through it. Christ is the spiritual Mediator 
through whose blood we must sue for par- 
don and salvation. The worship of the 
church is given to God only — the one Eter- 
nal Being in the three divine persons — and 
the incarnate Word, God consubstantial to 
the Father. Inferior religious honor, which 
may be called worsiiip in a qualified sense, 
is given to the Virgin Mary, on account of 
the gifts and graces with which God has 
endowed her, and her exalted dignity as 
30* 



The angels, 
reigning with 



i Mother of God incarnate, 
namely, incorporeal spirits 
I God, are honored as his creatures, in whom 
his perfections are reflected, and his messen- 
gers through whom he has manifested liis 
wiU. Saints, those who have proved faith- 
I ful in the divine service to the end, and are 
' already crowned with glory in the kingdom 
of God, are venerated likewise for their tri- 
umphant virtue ; the martyrs especially, who 
died amid torments rather than deny Christ, 
and the virgins, who throughout life pre- 
served the purity of their affections, are 
deemed worthy of high honor. But there is 
an essential difference between the honor 
given to the creatures of God, and that 
which belongs to God alone. He receives 
the submission of tlie understanding and the 
will, the homage of the affoctious. He is 
acknowledged to be the essential Being, the 
supreme Lord, the beginning and the end of 
all things. Sacrifice is gi\en to him only. 
Prayer, in its strict accept;)tion, can be offer- 
ed to him only, the Giver of every good gifl. 
Grace and salvation depend upon his bounty 
and mercy. Litanies and prayers to the 
saiiits are only appeals to them to intercede 
with God for us through Jesus Christ. They 
are not supposed to be omniscient or omni- 
present ; but they know, in God, the pious 
desires as well as the penitential sighs of the 
fai.h.ul. Respect is paid to the crucifix, 
which rec;ills to our mind the sufferings of 
Christ for our redemption, but it does not ter- 
minate in the symbol or material object. The 
kissing of the image, the liending of the knee, 
the prostration of the body in the ceremonial of 
Good Friday, are all directed to Christ, our 
Redeemer. So the images of the saints 
awake the remembrance of their virtues. 
The bowing of the head to a statue, or the 
burning of incense before a shrine, is refer- 
red to the saint whose memory is honored 
for ills love of God and his zeal for the 
divine glory. Relics, that is objects used by 
the saints, or particles of their remains, are 
venerated for the relation they bear to them. 
The fall of the first parents of the human 
race is the fundamental doctrine on wiiich ihe 
belief of the mystery of redemption depends. 
. . . . Orisrinal sin is that transgression 
which is common to the whole human fam- 
ily, each one being estranged from God, and 
liable to his wrath, in consequence of the act 
of the heads of the r:»ce. The natural pow- 
ers have been weakened by the fall. The 
freedom of the human will remains, but it is 



498 



HISTORr AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFPERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



less vigorous than in our first parents. Our 
nature is not vitiated and dejiendent, but it 
i^ prone to evil and exposed to violent temp- 
tation A Redeemer was given 

us, in the person of Christ, who, being God- 
man, atoned by his sufferings for the sin of 
our first parents, and merited for us all grace 
by wiiich temptation may be overcome. 
Actual sin is-the willful transgression of the 
divine law by individuals having the use of 
r'-ason. Mortal sin is any act, speech, desire, 
or tliought grievously opposed to the natural 
or divine law. Sins which imply no direct 
or grievous opposition to the law of God, are 
styled venial, because their pardon is easily 
obtained, since they do not separate the soul 
from God. Sliglit impatience, rash words, 
vain self-comiilaeeney, may be venial. De- 
liberate hatred, gioss cahimny, acts of vio- 
lence, not to speak of drunkeiniess. lust, and 
murder, are mortal sins. The distinction of 
sins is not derived from the individual who 
commits .them, although they may be aggra- 
vated by his pcrsoiuxl obligations. Forgive- 
ness of sins, even the most heinous, is prom- 
ised to the penitent. Sorrow for having com- 
mitted them is a necessary disposition in order 
to obtain it. Perfect sorrow, wiiich is called 
contrition, springs from divine love, and 
leads us to detest sin as opposed to the good- 
ness of God and to his eternal perfection. 
Attrition, is sorrow of a less perfect kind, 
arising from an experiiMice of the evil conse- 
quences of sin, and the dread of tlie punish- 
ments winch await it hereafter. If it wean 
the heart from sin, and inspire an effectual 
detestation of it, so as to be accompanied 
with a firm resolution of amendment, it is 
iield to be useful and sahitary, and such as 
may disjiose for pardon in the sacrament of 

])enance The forgiveness of 

.sin projierly belongs to God, who is offended. 
Christ, as God-man, forgave sin, and author- 
ized the apostles to impart forgiveness or 
withhold it. The power is judicial, since 
they may bind or loose, retain or forgive ; 
on which account a confession of sin is re- 
quired from every applicant for its exercise. 
When this is made witli sincerity, humility, 
sorrow, a willingness to repair the wrong 
committed, and a <letermination to shun the 
occasions of sin, the priest absolves tiie pen- 
itent. This absolution is a judicial sentence, 
deriving its force from the divine institution. 
The sacraments (seven in iuiml)er) are rites 
instituted by Christ our Lord, as instru- 
ments and means of grace to apply to our 



souls the merits of his sufTerings and death. 
They are said to contain and confer grace, 
technically ex opere operate, because they are 
effi'ctual means divinely chosen to impart it, 
where no obstacle is presented by the re- 
ceiver. Certain dispositions, however, are 
required on the part of adults who desire to 
partake of them. Faith and compunction 
are necessary on the part of the applicant 
for baptism. Sorrow, with a firm purpose of 
amendment, is required from the professed 
penitent, in the sacrament o( penance. The 
strengthening grace of the Holy Spirit is 
granted, by the laying on of hands with 
prayer, to the baptized believer, whose heart 
is free from willful sin. Sin is forgiven to 
the dying man who with penitence and hope 
receives the mystic unction, and for whom 
the pra)'er of faith is oflTered up. The impo- 
sition of hands is available for the communi- 
cation of sacerdotal power, even to the 
unworthy candidate, but grace is given to 
him who is called by God, and who with 
humility corresponds to the divine vocation. 
Marriage is a great mystery, the image of 
the union of Christ and the Church, to be 
celebrated with purity ot affection. The 
Eucharist, the chief sacrament, is to be ap- 
proached with hearts cleansed from sin, 
under penalty of becoming guilty of the body 
and blood of the Lord, and incurring con- 
demnation 

It is not easy to reconcile the exercise of 
free will with the divine foresight. We can- 
not understand how it is possible for us to 
act independently, and of our own determin- 
ation, when God has foreseen our action. 
It is sufficient to know and feel our freedom, 
without sounding the depths of divine knowl- 
e<lge. It suffices then to admit that without 
the grace of Christ we can do nothing, and 
to hold that we can do all things in Ilim 
who strengthens us. Everlasting lieatitude, 
consisting in the contemplation and enjoy- 
ment of God, is the reward promised by 
Iliin on condition of the fulfilment of Ilis 
commandments, and bestowed gratuitously on 
baptized infants or others incapable of per- 
sonal acts. The punishment of grievous sin 
is eternal. Impenitent sinners are forever 
separated from God, and suflfer torments. 
Those who die guilty of slight faults or debt- 
ors to divine justice, are withiield for a time 
from tlie enjoyment of Heaven (and suff^er 
the pains of purgatory). The glory of 
heaven is immediately attained by baptized 
infants dying before the use of reason, by 



HISTOUT AND PROGRESS OP THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



adults dying immediately after baptism, by 
niai-tyrs, and by all who die with perfect 
love of God, and free from sin or debt of 
j)iuiisliment. The soul onlj' is admitted to 
happiness. The body is subject to dissolu- 
tion, but is to be raised at the end of time, 
in order to be reunited to the soul, and made 
partaker of her glory. 

The teaching of Christ our Lord, becomes 
known to us especially by the preaching of 
the ministry, tracing back their commission 
to the apostles. Solemn definitions of faith 
are the most authoritative forms of this 
preaching. They are declarations not mere- 
ly of doctrines contained in the written 
word, but of revealed truths, whether writ- 
ten or unwritten. Christ himself left noth- 
ing in writing ; several of his apostles wrote 
much, and two other sacred writers com- 
posed narratives of his life and teaching ; 
but many things belong to the deposit of doc- 
trine which were not explicitly placed on 
record. The body of bishops feel themselves 
authorized to propose as revealed (ruth 
whatever has come down from the beginning 
in the church, and been generall}' acknowl- 
edged to appertain to doctrine. Li cases of 
difficulty, when (loubts have been raised with 
regard to some tenet, they feel themselves 
competent to examine the evidence, and 
decide whether the doctrine has been re- 
vealed. After a definition, it is no longer 
allowed to question a truth sealed with their 
approval. Infallibility in judgment is claim- 
ed for the body of bishops with their head, 
the bishop (pope) of Rome. (The infallibil- 
ity of the pope was declared one of the car- 
dinal doctrines of the Roman Catholic 
Ciuu-ch by the Council of Rome in 1870 — 
71.) By the infallibility in judgment of the 
bishops, is meant the providential guidance 
of the Holy Spirit, by which they are direc- 
ted and enlightened in doctrinal decisions, 
that they may not mistake error for truth or 
propose as divinely revealed what wants the 
seal of divine authority. The tribunal of 
the pope is universally acknowledged (in the 
Roman Catholic church) as competent to 
pronounce judgment in controversies which 
regard faith, and its decrees, directed to the 
body of bishops or to the church at large, 
proposing doctrines under penalty of excom- 
munication, when acquiesced in by the bish- 
ops, are final and irreversible. 

The Church accepts the Divine Scriptures 
is the word of inspiration, written under the 
impulse of the Spirit of God, and to be re- 



ceived with all faith and veneration. 1 
the books of the Old Testament, accordu 
to the Jewish Canon, she adds certain othi 
books (usually known as the Apocrypha) < 
ancient testimony, usage, and tradition d 
rived from the apostles. The books of tl 
New Testament included in the Canon, ai 
those adot)ted as inspired by the Council 
Trent. Tlie Church claims the supren 
authority of determining the meaning of tl 
Scriptures, in conformity with the gener: 
teaching of the fathers, that is, the anciei 
Christian writers. Faith, according to ll 
Roman Catholic view, is the assent of tl 
human mind to divine truth as it is propose 
and attested by the church of God. Tl 
truth must be revealed, and it must be pr( 
pounded by the church. Faith is necessar 
to salvation, so that without it, it is imposs 
ble to please God. The wanton and prou 
rejection of a single point of revealed doi 
trine involves shipwreck of faith. Henci 
the plea of invincible ignorance is the onl 
one which Roman Catholic divines admit f 
of any avail in behalf of those who rejec 
any of the doctrines which the Church hs 
propounded as revealed, and only God ca 
determine with certainty the individual fc 
whom such plea may be available. All baj 
tized children are claimed by the church i 
her o^vn, since baptism is the sacrament ( 
regeneration, and they continue such unt 
by their willful profession of condemne 
error they forfeit their birthright. The prii 
ciples of the Catholic Church with regard t 
civil duties, are highly conservative. Sh 
feels bound to respect established authority 
and enforce, by moral suasion, obedience t 
those in high station, and she uses every f 
occasion to insinuate the axiom, that religio 
is the only sure basis and strong bond of secui 
it}-. The duties of her members are deper 
dent on the providential position in whic 
they find themselves. They are to suppoi 
law and order, and fiilfil faithfully ever 
obligation to society. 

By discipline, Catholics understand a] 
that appertains to the government of th 
Church, the administration of the sacrament 
and the observance and practice of religion 
The essential worship consists in the sacri 
fice of the mass, which, although mystica 
and commemorative, is real and propitiatory 
beinff a continuation of the sacrifice of thi 
cross. Vespers, or evenmg prayers, are sol 
emnly sung, the psalms of Uavid, the sonj 
of the Virgin Mary, and pious hymns ant 



500 



niSTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



prayers being used. In the cathedral 
churches, other portions of the diviiie office 
are sung at various hours of each day, by 
clergymen, called canons, devoted to this 
duty. Numerous festivals are also cele- 
brated to honor the divine mysteries and 
present them to the devout contemplation of 
the faithful. Many are solemnized in honor 
of the Virgin Mary, the apostles, martyrs, 
confessors, virgins, and saints of every class, 
whose virtues are thus set before the faith- 
ful for their imitation. Fasting is also a 
part of church discipline. Forty days before 
Easter (the Lenten Fast) are devoted to 
this exercise. Ember days, viz., Wednes- 
day, Friday, and Saturday, in each of the 
four seasons, are observed as fasts to obtain 
the divine blessing, and worthy ministers for 
the church, ordinations being held at those 
times. The eve of great solemnities is 
observed by fasting, in order to prepare by 
penance for their celebration. Abstinence 
(from meat) is observed on each Friday of the 
year, and in some dioceses, on Saturday also. 
All these penitential observances are mat- 
ters of church law, which admits of dispen- 
sation. The rites of the mass, and the cere- 
monies used in the administration of the sac- 
raments, appertain to discipline, which ad- 
mits of variety and change, although great 
deference is shown for ancient usage. For 
this reason, the Latin liturgy, used from 
early times in the Roman church, is still 
emploj'ed by liie celebrant, although instruc- 
tions are given in the vernacular language, 
and facilities are offered to the faithful for 
praying in a manner suited to their capacity. 
The changes which have been made are in 
the manner of administering baptism, and 
the Eucharist, and penitential discipline. 
The solemn mode of baptism was originally 
by immersion. The candidate used to 
descend into fonts, or streams, or rivers, and 
sink beneath the waters under the pressure 
of the hands of the sacred minister. In cases 
of necessity and danger, less solemn modes 
were used, which, from being frequent at 
length, after the lapse of ages, became uni 
versal. In like maimer, the Eucharist, hav- 
ing been instituted by our Lord under the 
forms of bread and wine, was generally ad- 
ministered under both kinds for many ages. 
Exceptional cases were always admitted, 
which at length proved so numerous as to 
supersede altogether the ancient usage. The 
church claims the right to regulate, at her 
just discretion, whatever regards the manner 



of ndministei'ing the sacraments, while she 
holds their substance to be inviolable. The 
change in regard to penance, has reference 
mainly to the issue of indulgences, i. e. par- 
dons for oSences justly liable to penitential 
discipline. These, which were generally 
plenary, were not directed to the forgiveness 
of sin which needed the sacramental remedy, 
but to the remission of the temporal punish- 
ment, which was often exacted by divine jus- 
tice from those whose sins had been par- 
doned. They served as incentives to works 
of piety, such as almsgiving, fasting, and 
prayers. 

The organization of the church consists in 
its government by bishops, each in charge of 
a special flock, with subordination oue to 
another, and the dependence of all on the 
bishoj) of Rome (the pope), as shepherd of 
the whole fold of Christ. The Episcopal 
character is the same in all bishops, but gov- 
erning authority, which is called jurisdiction, 
is possessed in various degrees — in its ful- 
ness, by the pope, who is the fountain, the 
streams of which flow to all others. He 
alone has apostolic authority, wliich may be 
everywhere exercised, with due regard to 
the local prelate, and which is suited to every 
emergency. Next to him, in governing 
authority, are the cardinals, in whom, during 
the vacancy of the Roman see, this plenitude 
of jurisdiction is believed to reside. Each 
bishop governs his own diocese, not as papal 
vicar, but as ordinary or proper ruler, al- 
though in some tilings his authority is en- 
larged as delegate apostolic. Several dio- 
ceses form a province which is governed by 
an archbishop. Many ecclesiastical provin- 
ces are sometimes united as a nation, under 
a primate who ranks above other prelates. 
The vicar apostolic is, in some sense, a mis- 
sionary bishop. The general government of 
the church is carried on at Rome, where the 
pope is assisted by the body of cardinals, 
several of whom compose standing commit- 
tees to examine and prepare the matters for 
final action. Nearly thirty belong to the 
College of Propaganda, which is charged 
with a general superintendence of missionary 
countries. The appointment of bishops is 
made on the recommendation of the local 
prelates, with the advice of the cardinals. 

The religious orders in the church are 
like corporations in a civil government, hav- 
ing special exemptions and privileges to 
enable them successfully to pursue the objects 
of their respective institutes. They derive 



HISTORY AXD PROGRESS OF THE DFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



501 



these from the pope, who, in vu-tue of liis 
apostolicnl .authority, exempts the members 
fro:n the jurisdietion of tlie bishops in what 
rcijiuxls their domestic discipline, but leaves 
tliem dependent on them for faculties to be 
exercised in behalf of the faithful. The 
older religious orders of Europe all have 
their houses here; the Benedictines, Domin- 
icans, Franciscans, Carmelites, Augu-tini- 
ans, Lazarits, and the followers of Loj-ola, 
or, as they are often called, Jesuits. A new 
religious order, that of St. Paul the apostle, 
or as they are usually called, Pauli-ts, was 
founded a few years since in New York, and 
has been very eHicient in missionary labors. 
There are also teaching orders, like the 
Brothers of the Christian School-, and char- 
itable orders of both sexes, like the Sisters 
of Charity, Brothers and Sisters of the Sa- 
cred Heart of .Jesus, Sisters of Mercy, Little 
Sisters of the Poor. &c., &c. These charit- 
able orders h ive effected much good in the 
founding and management of schools, in vis- 
iting the sick and prisoners, in managing 
hospitals, reformatories, &c. Of late years, 
the Roman Catholics have not only largely 
increased their colleges, but have multiplied 
their schools, claiming that their children 
should be iusiructed in religions as well as in 
secular knowledge. They have also estab- 
lished many orphan asylums, reformatories, 
and Magdalen asylums. 



11. BAPTISTS. 

I. Eegui-ar Baptists. The Baptist 
churches of tiie Unittd States rank among 
the most numerous and influential of the 
evangelical religious denominations in the 
country, and while generally either moderate 
or strict, (but not high,) Calvinists in their 
theology, and strictly congregational in their 
church government, are di-tinguished from 
other denominations holding to (Jalvinistic 
doctrines and a congregational polity, by their 
views on the mode and subjects of baptism. 
They hold that immersion is the only true 
mode of baptism, and a personal profession 
of faith in Christ the necessary prerequisite 
for every subject of that ordinance. 

It is usually stated th.at Roger Williams, 
the founder of the colony of Rhode Island, 
was also the Ibunder of the Baptist denomi- 
nation in the United Stat s. The statement 
is hut partially true. Four years before 
Williams's baptism, in 1635, Hansard Kuol- 



lys, an English or rather Welsh. Baptis' 
preacher, had emigrated to New England 
with a portion of his flock and settled as a 
pastor at Dover, New Hampshire, and though 
he afterward returned to England, ins church 
remained. Baptist sentiments were propa- 
gated in the Rhode Island colony, liut much 
more by John Clarke, a friend and associate 
of Williams, than by Williams him-elf ; in- 
deed, the latter, whose raemoi-y is de.-erving 
of all honor for his noble defence and main- 
tenance of complete libert}' of conscience, 
held certain views in the latter part of his 
life, which caused him to stand aloof, so far 
as communion went, from tlie Baptist as well 
as from other churches. There were, how- 
e^■er, a considerable number of Baptists who 
emigrated from England, Holland, and Ger- 
many within the next hundred and thirty 
years, and Baptist churches existed in most 
of the thirteen colonies at the commencement 
of the Revolution ; yet their membership 
was small. In 17C2 there were but 56 
churches with less than fi.OOO members in 
the denomination. In 1776 they reckoned 
nearly 1.50 churches with a membersiiip of 
about 13,000. From the time of the revo- 
lution, their growth was very rapid, exceeded 
only by that of the Methodist churches. 

Every cliurch among the Baptists is com- 
pletely independent of every other and fully 
competent to establish its own doctrinal 
views, its own course of polity and discipline, 
and to elect, license, and ordain its own offi- 
cers whether they are deacons, licensed 
preachers, ordained ministers or pastors. The 
Baptists acknowledge no church couits, no 
hierarchy, presbytery, synod, directory, 
classis, general assembly, annual or general 
conference, de.an or bishop as having any 
power over the individual church, which they ' 
regard as the iiiud arbiter in all matters of 
discipline, polity, and doctrine. In these 
matters they are the most absolutely pure 
and simple cougregationalists, the completest 
democracy in tlie world. Tiiey have, it is 
true, their associations and conventions, and 
their church councils, but these are only for 
devotional, charitable, and advisory purposes ; 
they possess no disciplinary powers. It fol- 
lows as a necessary corollary from this, that 
though all the Baptist churches acknowledfje 
and receive " the Scriptures of the Old and 
New Testaments as their only and all suffi- 
cient rule of f lith and practice" they have 
no articles of faith or creed which are univer- 
sally received. Many of the oldest and 



502 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



most influential churches have never had 
articles of faith. Where they are used, each 
church prepares its own or adopts one al- 
ready prepared as it pleases, yet most of 
them agree in the principal points of doctrine. 
The Kejiular Baptists are in general Mode- 
rate Caivinists. accepting " for substance of 
doctrine" the view of the general sufficiency 
but particular application ol the Atonement 
enunciated by Rev. Andrew Fuller, in his 
theological works. A confession of faith, 
embodying these doctrines and known as the 
New Hampshire Confession of Faith, was 
prepared more than forty years ago and has 
perliaps been adopted by more churches 
than any other ; yet while it represents f lirly 
the views of the great body of regular Bap- 
tists, it cannot be considered an aulhoritative 
document. We give below the articles of 
this confession. 

I. Of the Scriptures. We believe that 
the Holy Bible was written by men divinely 
inspiiid, and is a perfect treasure of heav- 
enly in-truction, that it has God for its au- 
thor, salvation for its end, and truth without 
any mixture of error for its matter ; that it 
reveals the principles by which God will 
judge us; and therefore is, and shall remain 
to the end of the world, the true centre of 
Christian union, and the supreme standard 
by wliich all human conduct, creeds, and opin 
ions should be tried. 

II. Of the True God. We believe that 
there is one, and only one, living and true 
God, an infinite, intelligent Spirit, whose 
name is Jehovah, the Maker and Supreme 
Ruler of Heaven and Earth ; inexpressibly 
glorious in holiness, and worthy of all possi- 
ble honor, confidence, and love ; that in the 
unity of the Godhead there are three per- 
sons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Ghost ; equal in every divine perfection, and 
executing distinct but harmonious offices in 
the great work of redemption. 

HI. Of the Fall of Man. We believe 
that Blan was created in holiness, imder the 
law cf his Maker ; but by voluntary trans- 
gression fell from that holy and happy strife; 
in consequence of which all mankind are 
now sinners, not by constraint but choice, 
being by nature utterly void of that holiness 
required by the law of God, positively in- 
clined to evil ; and therefore under just con- 
demnation to eternal ruin, without defence 
or excuse. 

IV. Of the Way of Salvation. We be- 
lieve that the salvation of sinners is wholly 



of grace ; through the Mediatorial ollices of 
the Son of God ; who by the appointment oi 
the Father, freely took upon Him our na- 
ture, yet without sin ; honored the Divine 
law by his personal obedience, and by his 
death made a full atonement for our sins ; 
that having risen from the dead. He is now 
enthroned in Heaven, and xmiting in His 
wonderful person the tenderest symjjathies 
with divine perfections. He is every way 
qualified to be a suitable, a compassionate, 
and an all-sufficient Saviour. 

V. Of Justijication. We believe that 
the great Gospel blessing which Christ se- 
cures to such as believe in Him is Justifica- 
tion , that Justification includes the pardon 
of sin, and the promise of eternal life on 
principles of righteousness ; that it is be- 
stowed, not in consideration of any works 
of righteousness which we have done, but 
solely through faith in the Redeemer's blood, 
by virtue of wlucli faith His perfect right- 
eousness is freely imputed to us of God, that 
it brings us into a state of most blessed 
peace and favor with God, and secures every 
other blessing needful for time and eternity. 

VI. Of the Freeness of Salvation. We 
believe that the blessings of salvation are 
made free to all by the Gospel ; that it is the 
innnediate duty of all to accept them by a 
cordial, penitent, and obedient faith ; and that 
nothing prevents the salvation of the great- 
est sinner on earth, but his own inherent 
depravity and voluntary rejection of the 
Gospel, which rejection involves him in an 
aggravated condemnation. 

VII. Of Grace in Regeneration. We 
believe that in order to be saved, sinners 
must be regenerated, or born again, that re- 
generation consists in giving a holy disjiosi- 
tion to the mind ; that it is effected in a man- 
ner above our comprehension by the power 
of the Holy Spirit, in connection with Divine 
truth, so as to secure our voluntary obedience 
to the Gospel ; and that its proper evidence 
appears in the holy fruits of repentance, and 
faith, and newness of life. 

VIII. Of Repentance and Faith. We 
believe that Repentance and Faith are sa- 
cred duties, and also inseparable graces, 
wrought in our souls by the regenerating 
Spirit of God, whereby being deeply con- 
vinced of our guilt, danger, and helplessness, 
and of the way of salvation by Christ, we 
turn to God with unfeigned contrition, con- 
fession, and supplication for mercy ; at the 
same time heartily receiving the Lord Jesus 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERRNT DENOMINATIONS. 



503 



Chn-t as our Prophet, Priest, niid King, and 
relying on Him aluiie as the only and all- 
EulHcient Saviour. 

IX. Of God's Purpose of Grace. AVe 
believe that Ellectiou is the eternal purpose 
of God, according to wliieh He graciously 
regenerates, sanctities, and saves sinners ; 
t!iat being perfectly consistent with the I'ree 
agency of man. it comprehends a'l the means 
in connection with the end ; that it is a most 
glorious display of God's sovereign goodness, 
beiuginfinitely free, wise, holy, and unchange- 
able ; tliat it utterly excludes boastmg, and 
|)ro:notes luunility, love, prayer, praise, trust 
in God, and aclive imitation of his free mer- 
cy, that it encourages the use of means in 
the highest degree ; that it may be ascer 
tained by its eH'ects in all who truly believe 
the G(5spel ; that it is the foundation of 
Christian assnrafice, and that to ascertain it 
with regard to ourselves demands and de- 
serves the utmost diligence. 

X. Of Sancti/icdtioii. We believe that 
Sanctification is the process by which, accord- 
ing to the will of God, we are made partak- 
ers of his holiness ; that it is a progressive 
work ; that it is begun in regeneration ; and 
that it is carried on in the hearts of believers 
liy tlie pre- en ^e and power of the Holy 
Spirit, the fc'eale.' and Comforter, in the con- 
tinuil use oi the appointed means — espe- 
cially, tlie word of God, selJ'-exarainatiou, 
self-denial, watchfulness, and praver. 

XI. Of tlif Perseverance of Suiiiis. "VVe 
believe tliat such only are real believers as 
endure unto the end; that their persevering 
attachment to Christ is the grand mark which 
disting.iishes themfrom superficial professors ; 
that a special Providence watches over their 
welfare ; ami they are kept by the power of 
God through faitlt unto salvation. 

XII. Of the Harmony of the Law and 
Gospel. We believe that tlie Law of Goii 
is the eternal and unchange ible rule of His 
moral government ; that it is iiolv, just, and 
good ; and that the inability which the Scrip- 
lures ascribe to fallen men to fulfil iU pre- 
cepts, arises entirely from their love of sin ; 
to deliver th -in from which, and to restore 
them through a Mediator to unfeigned obedi- 
ence to the holy Law, is one great end of the 
Gospel, and of the Means of Grace connected 
with the establishment of the visible church. 

XIII. Of a Gospel Church. We believe 
that a visible cliurch of Christ is a conwrega- 
tion of baptized believers, associated by cov- 
enant in the faith and fellowship of the Gos- 



pel ; observing the ordinances of Christ ; 
governed by his laws ; and exercising the 
gifts, rights, and privdeges invested in them 
by His word; that its only scriptural officers 
are Bishops or Pastors, and Deacons, whose 
fiualificalions, claims, and duties are defined 
in tlie Epistles to Timothy and Titus. 

XI V^. Of Baptism and the Lord's Sup- 
per. We believe that Christian Baptism is 
the immersion in water of a believer, into 
the name of the Father, and Son, and Holy 
Ghost ; to show forth in a solemn and beau- 
tiful emblem, our faith in the crucified, 
buried, and risen Saviour, with its eftcct, in 
our death to sin and resurrection to a new 
life ; that it is pre-requisite to the privileges 
of a church relation ; and to the Lord's Sup- 
per, in which the members of the church by 
the sacred use of bread and wine, are to 
commemorate together the dying love of 
Christ; preceded always by solemn self-ex- 
amination. 

XV. Of the Christian Sabbath. We be- 
lieve that the first day of the week is the 
Lord's Day, or Christian Sabbath ; and is to 
be kept sacred to religious purposes, by ab- 
staining from all secular labor and sinful 
recreations, by the devout observance of all 
the means of grace, both private and public, 
and by preparation for that rest thiit remain- 
eth for the people of God. 

XVI. Of Civil Government. We be- 
lieve that Civil Government is of Divine 
appointment, for the interests and good order 
of human society ; and that magistrates are 
to be prayed for, conscientiously honored, 
and obeyed ; except only in things opposed 
to the will of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is 
the only Lord of the conscience, and the 
Prince of the kings of the earth. 

XVII. Of the Righteous and the Wicked. 
We believe that there is a radical and essen- 
tial difference between the righteous and the 
wicked ; that such only as through faith are 
justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and 
sanctified by the Spirit ot our God, are truly 
righteous in His esteem ; while all such as 
continue in impenitence and unbelief are in 
His sight wicked, and under the curse ; and 
this distinction holds among men both in and 
after death. 

It is usual also in Baptist churches to 
have a Church Covenant, to which the mem- 
bers, when received, give their assent, as it 
is read by the pastor. This covenant pledges 
them to the duties of the Christian life, to 
the observance of the worship, ordinances, 



504 



IIISTORV AND rROGUr.SS OF THE DIFFKREXT DENOMINATIONS. 



discipline, and floftrinos of the church, and 
to a strict avoidance of all temptations to 
evil, and of all habits which may brinfi; dis- 
honor or reproach upon their profession, and 
to live in harmony and peace and in chris- 
tian fidelity with the members of the church. 
In ca^e of discipline, the usual charge against 
the offender is the violation of his covenant 
vows. With rare exceptions the Baptist 
chui ches are associated ; that is, the churches 
of each convenient district unite in an asso- 
ciation of churches, varying in numbers from 
four or five to fifty or sixty. Each church 
is represented at the annual meetings of 
these associations by the pastor and a num- 
ber of lay delegates. Tlie functions of these 
associations are wholly advisory, except that 
sometimes there is formed from them a So- 
ciety or Board for missionary work, which 
maj' or may not be incorporated, but which, 
while responsible to the association which 
created it, takes upon itself, with their sanc- 
tion, the raising of the necessary monies for 
its work, and the management of that work 
in all its details. The Baptist churches have 
also in most of the states and territories, 
state conventions, composed in the .-mailer 
states of the pastor and two or three lay 
delegates from each chunh ; in the larger 
states, of clerical and lay delegates appointed 
by the a-sociations. These couventions are 
gener.ally occupied with the domestic mis- 
sionary work of the states, aiding feeble 
churches, establishing new ones, assisting in 
the cause of ministerial and denominational 
education, &c. In these bodies, as in the 
associatiiins, the strictly democratic principle 
of having all power inhere in and proceed 
from the membership of the churcii is fully 
observed. 

The Baptist denomination in the United 
States maintains general organizations for 
Foreign jMissionary purposes, for Home 
Missions, Church Exten-ion, and the educa- 
tion of Freedmen for the ministry, for the 
translation, publication, and circulation of 
the scriptures in our own country and in 
foreign lauds ; for the publication of tracts, 
sunda)' scliool, and denoniinaiional works; 
for the promotion of theological, collegiate, 
and academical educittion. and a consolidated 
American Baptist Missionary Convention 
for missionary and educational work, mainly 
among the freedmen. 

The ten societies of the denominat'on re- 
ceived in 1870 the following sums : for For- 
eign Missions, $229,7G».44 ; for Home Mis- 



sions, Church Extension, &e., $2.'37,G4.').:)0 ; 
Bible, Sunday school, and denominational 
publications and circulation, S384,324.17 
making a total of S8ol,73><.ll for missionary 
and educational purposes. The contribu- 
tions for church purposes, and church exten- 
sion, education, &c., not passing through 
these channels, the same year was about 
$8.1 O0,(J0O more. 

The statistics of the denomination for 
1870 were as follows: 799 associations, 17,- 
745 churches, 10,818 ordained ministers; 
whole number of members 1,419,492. a net 
gain of 198,144 during the year. There 
were connected with these churches 5.251 
Sunday Schools reported with 5C.515 teach- 
ers, and 473,li64 scholars. Tiie number of 
volumes in the Sunday School liliraries re- 
ported was G47,1<I2, and the benevolent con- 
tributions of the schools $122,143. There 
were the same year 38 colleges and theo- 
logical seminaries belonging to the denomi- 
nations, besides 18 or 20 others, mostly for 
female education, founded by Baptists and 
mainly under their control. These institu- 
tions had about 350 instructors and professors 
and over 0,000 students. The college prop- 
erty of these institutions is somewhat moi'e 
than $f),500,000. 

They supported in 1870, 24 weekly, 3 
semi-monthly, 12 monthly, and 3 quarterly 
periodicals devoted to the interests of the 
denomination, its Sunday Schools, and Mis- 
sion enterprises. 

II. FKEE\yiLL Baptists. This denomi- 
nation originated in 1780, in which year 
Benjamin Kandall, a native of Newcastle, N. 
H., born in 1749, and in 1771 converted 
under the preaching of George Whitfi:'ld, 
organized the first Freewill Bajitist chin-ch, 
at New Durham, N. H. Kandall was a man 
of but moderate education, but he possessed 
a strong and brilliant intellect, and having 
become convinced, in 177(3, that the views of 
the Baptists were correct in regard to the 
mode and subjects of baptism, he joined 
them, and very soon after commenced preach- 
ing. He wits a diligent student, and the 
C dvinistic doctrines of the Baptist churches 
being distasteful to him, he adopted after 
careful examination the views of Arminius, 
substantially as held by the New Connec- 
tion of General Ba|)tists in England, and the 
INIethodists in this country. Mr. Randall 
prearhed these doctrines with great success, 
and in 1780 established his first church hold- 
ing these doctrines. He also adopted the 



I Jii 1 3ni|_^£iii *r "3]- 




HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMIXATIONS. 



505 



priiR-i|ile of free? or open communion. The 
jri-owth of the denomination has been consid- 
eralily rapid, though it has been, from tlieir 
stronji; anli-slaverj' principles, confined en- 
tirei)' to tlie northern state-;, and its churches 
have been multiplied rather in the country 
than in the large cities. Almost two thirds 
of its m-mbership reside in New England 
and New York. Their views of doctrine 
correspond with the liegular Baptists on all 
points exce|it the following, which we give 
from their Confession of Faith : 

'• The Atonement. As sin cannot be pardon- 
ed without a sacrifice, and the blood of beasts 
could never actually wash away sin, Christ 
gave himself a sacrifice for the sins of the 
world, and thus made salvation possible for 
all men. Through the redemption of Christ, 
man is placed on a second state of trial ; 
this second state so far diftering from the 
first that now men are naturally inclined to 
transgress, the commands of God, and will 
not regain the image of God in holiness but 
through the atonement, by the operation of 
the Holy Spirit. All who die short of the 
age of accoiuiiability are rendered sure of 
eternal life. Through the provisions of the 
atonement, all are abilitated to repent of 
their sins, and yield to (jlod ; the Gospel call 
is to all, the Spirit enlightens all, and men 
lire agents capable of choosing or refnsing," 

" Regfneratinn is an instantaneous renova- 
tion of the soul, l)y the .Spirit of God, where- 
by the penitent sinner, believing in. and giv- 
ing up all for Christ, receives new life, and 
becomes a child of God. This change is 
preceded by true conviclion, repentance of, 
and penitent snrrow for sin ; it is called in 
Scripture, "being born again," "born of the 
Spirit," " passing from death unto life." The 
soul is then jiistijied with God." 

" Santijicatioyi is a setting apart the soul 
and body for holy service, an entire con- 
secration of all our redeemed powers to 
God ; believers are to strive for this with all 
diligence." 

^'■Perseverance. As the regenerate are plac- 
ed in a state of trial during life, their future 
obedience and final salvation are neither 
determined, nor certain ; it is, however, their 
duty and privilege to be steadfast in the 
truth, to grow in grace, persevere in holi- 
ness, and make their election sure." 

" Communion. Communion is a solemn par- 
taking of bread and wine, in commemoration 
of the death and sufferings of Christ." 

The custom or ordinance of " washing the 



] saints' feet," once practised to a considerable 
extent by this denomination, is still optional 
with them, but has generally been aban- 
doned. In their church polity the Freewill 
Baptists are not so independent or demo- 
cratic as the Regular Baptists, having adop- 
teil, with their doctrines, some of the views 
of the Methodists on church government. 
They have but two classes of otiicers in the 
church, — elders and deacons. Each church 
elects its own pastor, and exercises discipline 
over its own members ; but as a church is 
accountable to the yearly meeting, which 
has, also, the power of receiving appeals and 
trying them. The ecclesiastical organiza- 
tions of the denomination are the church, the 
quarterly meeting or conference, the annual 
meeting, and the general conference, which 
meets triennially. The quarterly conference 
consist of the ministers of its territory, and 
such lay members as the churches may 
select. A council from the quarterly confer- 
ence organizes churches, and ordains minis- 
ters, and the ministers are accountable to it 
and not to their churches. The annual con- 
ferences are composed of delegates appointed 
by the quarterly conferences, and the gen- 
eral conference delegates are chosen from the 
annual conferences. The statistics of the 
denomination for 1870, are as follows; One 
general conference ; thirty yearly meetings ; 
155 quarterly meetings ; 138(1 churches ; 1 145 
ordained ministers, and 66,0119 communi- 
cants. We have no report of their Sunday 
Schools, and no recent one of their benevo- 
lent contributions. Their donations to the 
foreign missionary cause in 1866, were 
S 1 2, 1 60, but have since been considerably in- 
creased. They have al-o a Home Mission 
Society, and an Education Society. They 
have four colleges : Bates College, Lewiston, 
Me., wdiich is liberally endowed, .and has 12 
instructors and 103 students; Hillsdale Col- 
lege, at Hillsdale, IMich. ; West Virginia 
College, at Flemington, W. Va., and Ridge- 
ville College, Ridgeville, Ind. They have 
also a Theological Seminary at New Hamp- 
ton, N. H , and a Theological Department 
of Bates College, Me. There are also thir- 
teen academies, seminaries, &c., and a soci- 
ety for the promotion of Eilucation in the 
South They have a printing establi-hment, 
the property of the denomination, at Dover, 
N. H., and issue a weekly paper, the "Mor- 
ning Star," a monthly juvenile pa])er, and 
an annual, the " Freewill Baptist Register." 
The Free Communion Baptists or Free 



506 



niSTonr and progress op the different denominations. 



Baptists, a separate denomination until 1841, 
united with them in that j'ear ; but the 
Freewill Baptist General Conference with- 
drew subsequently from 4000 of their own 
members in North Carolina, on the question 
of slavery, and refused to receive about 12,- 
OllO more from Kentucky, who applied, on 
the same ijrounds. 

III. The Seventh Day Baptists, dif- 
fer from Itegular Baptists only in the obser- 
vance of the seventh, instead of the first day 
of the week for religious worship. Their 
first church in the United States was organ- 
ized in 1G71. They ))ractice restricted com- 
munion, are Calvini^tic in doctrine, and 
independent in church polity. They had in 
1870, seventy-five churches, eighty-two min- 
isters, and 7,336 members. They sustain 
missions in China and Palestine, and have a 
Home INIissionary organization, an Educa- 
tion Society, and a tract and publishing 
house. They issue a weekly, a moulhl_y, 
and a (|uarterly religious periodical. Tliey 
have a flourishing co'lege, Alfred University, 
at Alfred, Alleghany Co., N. Y., with 16 
teaciiers and 3G4 students, and a good acad- 
emy, the " De Iluyter Institute," at Da lluy- 
ter, I\Iadison Co., N. Y. There are also a 
few churches of Gei::\ian Sevkntii Day 
Baptists, seceders from the Tunkers or 
G^^rman Baptists, in Franklin, Bedford, and 
Y'^ork comities. Pa. They are inclined to 
monasticism, or the community life, and num- 
ber but a few hundreds. 

IV. The Si.x; Pki.nciple Baptists are 
a small body, mostly confined to Khode Isl- 
and, but having a few congregations in Bias- 
sachusetts, New York, and Pennsylvania. 
They are Armiiiian in doctrine. Their six 
principles arc those stated in Hebrews, vi:I, 
2. Tlieir rite of "lading on of hands" is 
analogous to Episco|ial coiiiirmation, and is 
their principal distinguishing jMiint. 'J'heir 
ministers are not generally well educated, 
and receive no stated support. They are 
generally opjwsed to missions and to most of 
the reforms of the day. The denomination 
originated in ICiO, but has not grown rap- 
idly. It now numbers about 20 eluirches, 
18 ordained ministers, and 3,300 members. 
Tliey have no periodical, and no schools or 
colle'ies. 

The Old School or Anti- Mission 
Baptists, are diminishing every year in 
numbers, but have their churches scattered 
through most of the states of the Union, 
except New England. They are generally 



hyper-calvinistic or anti-nomians, in doc- 
trine, and o[)pose strongly missions, Sunday 
schools, temperance societies, and all agen- 
cies not mentioned in the Scriptures. 1 heir 
ministers are not generally educated, and 
seldom or never receive any salary. Fifty 
years ago the number of these churches was 
very large, but they have dwindled to a few 
hundreds, and their membershii) to perhaps, 
4,5,000. They have no schools or colleges, 
but have several periodicals, one of tlem, 
"The Signs of the Times," being published 
semi-monthly, at Middletown, Orange Ca, 
N. Y. 

VI. The Disciples of Christ, or 
Church of Christ, or, as they are often 
called, though they do not acknowledge the 
name, Campbellites, are a body of Baptists, 
who owe their origin, as a distinct denomina- 
tion, mainly to the labors of Thomas and Al- 
exander Cami>bell, two Presbyterian clergy- 
men, father and son, who settled in Western 
Pennsylvania, in 1808. They originally 
belonged to the " Seceders," one of the 
denominations which had come oflf from the 
Scottish Kirk. The first effort of Mr. 
Thomas Campbell, iu which his son joined 
him veiy heartily, was to effect a union of 
the different Protestant denominat'ons of 
that region, by an agreement to reject all 
creeds and confessions of faith, and take the 
Scriptures only as the rule of faith and prac- 
tice, seeking to come at their meaning by 
earnest prayer, and careful study. A con- 
siderable number joining in this work, a 
small congregation was formed in Washing- 
ton Co.. Penn , known as the " Brush Run 
Church," Sept. 10, 1810. Of this church 
Thomas Cam}>bell was the elder or pastor, 
and by i(, his son, Alexander, was ordained 
to tlie ministi'y. Careful and prayerful study 
of the Bible for nearly two years, brought 
the Campbi-lls and several of tlieir followers 
to the conclusion that the Scriptures taught 
" the immersion of believers," and they with 
five others, were accordingly baptized in 
June, 1812, by a Baptist minister. Within 
the next three years, their adherents had 
increased to five or six considerable congre- 
gations, and they united with the Redstone 
Baj)tist Association, stipulating, however, in 
writing " that no terms of uni(jn or commun- 
ion, otiier than tlie Holy Scriptures, should 
be required." Some difficulty arising iu the 
Association in consequence of their meas- 
ures, they withdrew and joined the Mahon- 
ing (Ohio) Association, which soon became 



IIISTOUT AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



507 



fully identified witli the movement. In 1823 I 
Ali-Xiuuler Ciunpbell, a man of extensive 
scliolaivliip, anil remarkal)le logical and dia- 
lectic jiowers, commenced the pnblication of 
" The Christian Bapti.-^t." This periodical 
was edited with j;reat ability, and through its 
very large circulation, aided by his extensive 
tours, and his public discussions with the 
leading men of different denominations, his 
peculiar views spread widely among the 
Baptists and other denominations, through- 
out the Middle and Korthwestern States. 
Though aeknowledgi-ng no creed or confes- 
sion of faith, and making his motto " Faith 
in the Testimony of God, and obedience to 
the commandments of Christ, the only bond 
of unidii," Mr. Campbell did use a phraseol- 
ogy in the enunciation of his doctrines which 
was liable to perversion, and was, in fact, 
often perverted. He insisted that the Scrip- 
tures commiviiled "baptism for the remis- 
sion of sins," and as Peter replied in Acts, 
ii : 38, to those who asked wliat they should 
do: "Repent and be baptized, every one of 
you, in the name of J(!su3 Christ, for the 
remission of sins, and ye shall receive the 
gifts of the Holy Gliost," so he would have 
the Christian minister now baptize all who 
professed to be penitt-nt, for the remission of 
their sins, and the assurance of pardon, and 
the gifts of the Holy Spirit. His own views 
were decided that penitence and faith were 
necessary to salvation, but that the assur- 
ance of this pardon ami salvation was to be i 
attained through submission to this initiatory. 
rite. To many of the Baptist churches, it 
seemed that this was opening the dijor to a 
belief in baptismal regeneration, a doctrine 
abhorrent to them as to most Protestants, 
and in 18"i7 the excision of Mr. Campbell's 
followers commenced, and was carried on 
inisparingly for many years after. Their 
exclusion from the regular Baptist churches 
led to their forming churches and associa- 
tions ofiheir own, and their numbers were 
largely augmented by the accession of a 
body known as Reformers, who, liy an in- 
dependent process, had reached substantial- 
ly the same conclusions with them. The 
'' Disciples," owing to their somewhat pecu- 
liar and vague phraseoUigy in avowing their 
faith, have been charged with Unitarianism, 
as well as some other heresies ; but it is now 
very generally conceded that they are Trini- 
tarians, and that they do not differ in the 
cardinal doctrines of the Bible from other 
Evangelical Christians. That their formula 



on the subject of baptism has led some astray 
and ]irejudiced tlie minds of others, is prob- 
ably true; but judged by the tests of Christ- 
ian activity and evangelical labor, they are 
perhaps little, if at all, behind otherdenomina- 
tions. Tlieir oidy distinctive practice, aside 
from the baptismal tbrmula. is the observance 
of the ordinance of the Lord's Sup|)er weekly. 
They recognize three orders of church offi- 
cers, viz : 1 . Elders, presbyters, or bisho))s, 
terras which they regard as synonymous; 2. 
Deacons; 3. Evangelists. The last are their 
itinerant ministry or missionaries, and are 
supported by voluntary contributions. They 
are very earnest in their support of education- 
al institutions, and of organizations for the 
distribution of the Scriptures. Their disting- 
uished leader died in IStiG. at the age of 77, af- 
ter performing an amount of intellectual labor 
greater than falls to the lot of one educated 
man in a thousand. He had written largely 
on theological subjects, edited for more than 
forty years a very able religious periodical, 
conducted successfully five or six protracted 
public discussions, founded, and taught large 
classes in a college of good repute, and 
preached manj' thousand sermons. 

The " Disciples " at the time of his death 
had 1,642 preachers (elders or bishops) a 
large number of evangelists, and 424,250 
members. Their present number of preach- 
ers of both classes is estimated at about 
3,000, their congregations at nearly .5,000, 
and their membershi]) at about 612,000. 
Tl;e educational institutions, organized and 
supported by the " Disciples," are Ken- 
tucky University at Lexington, Ky.; Bethany 
College, Bethany, West Virginia; a College 
at Indianopolis, Lid. ; Eureka College and 
Abingdon College, at Eureka .and Abingdon, 
III. ; Oskaloosa College, Liwa ; Wilmington 
College, Wilmington, Ohio ; Franklin Col- 
lege, near Nashville, Tenn. ; Woo<lland Col- 
lege, California ; Jeffersontown and Emin- 
ence, Kentucky ; female colleges at Colum- 
bia, Missouri, Versailles, and Harrodsburg, 
Ky., and Bloomington, 111. ; and 12 Acade- 
mies and Seminaries. They have twenty- 
three periodicals, of which 9 are weekly, 13 
monthly, and one quarterly. The " Millen- 
nial Hdrbinger" a monthly, succeeded the 
" Christian Baptist" Dr. Campliell's first 
periodical, and was edited by him till his 
death. 

VII. The Christian Connection, often 
but unproperly called Christ-ians, are a 
body of religionists who claim a threefold 



508 



HISTORY ASD PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



origin. In North Carolina, in 1793, a con- 
siderable number of churches seceded from 
the Methodist Episcopal Church under the 
leadership of Rev. J. O. Keller, and others, 
and first took the name of Republican Meth- 
odists, but afterward making the Bible their 
sole standard of foith, and having become 
convinced of the necessiiy of imraereion on 
the profession of faith, tbey adopted the 
name of '• Christians." In 1 800, Dr. Abner 
Jones, Elias Smith, and other membei-s of a 
Baptist church in Hartland, Vermont, know- 
ing nothing of the action of these North 
Carolina churches, separated from the church 
with which they were connected and organ- 
ized a chm-ch at Lyndon, Vermont, on the 
principle of '• making the Bible alone their 
confession of faith." This soon grew in 
numbers and other churches were consti- 
tuted on the .^ame principle. In 1801, after 
the great revival in Kentucky and Teimes- 
see, which led to the organization of the 
Cumberland Presbyterian Church, Rev. B. 
W. Stone, and four other Presbyterian min- 
isters of Kentucky, withdrew, and adopting 
soon after the name of " Christians," organ- 
ized churches and IbiTually proclaimed their 
principles in ISO-t. These three bodies 
originating in as many denominations, came 
together in a general convention two or three 
years later and became one body. They 
have two Quadrennial Conferences, the 
United States and the Southern. Their 
first weekly periodical, " T/ie Herald of Gos- 
pel Liberty." was one of the first if not the 
first of the religious newspapers pulilished in 
the United States, and is still maintained. 

Admitting no creed or confession- of faith, 
and allowing all its adherents to interpret 
the Scriptures for themselves, the Ciiristiau 
Connection necessarily allows a wide range 
of doctrinal belief and it is somewhat difn- 
cult to determine wiiat are their doctrinal 
views. A considerable portion, especially 
in the Western and Centra! States, are not 
Trinitarians. They iiold that there is one 
God, the God of tlie Bible; that Christ is a 
divine Ijeing. pre-existent. and the mediator 
between God and man ; that Christ's sufiTer- 
ings and death atone tor the sins of all men. 
who, bv rep.entance and faith, maybe saved. 
They believe immersion the only proper 
mode, and believers the only proper subjects 
of baptism. Comininiion at the Lord's table 
is open to believers of all denominations. In 
regard to church government and polity, 
each church is theoretically and practically 



independent. They have annual State Con- 
ferences, composed of ministerial and lay 
delegates from the churches which receive 
and ordain pastors, but can pass no laws 
binding the several churches. Their Gen- 
eral Convention or Conference has Mission- 
ary, Educational, Publishing, and Sabbath 
School departments, each of which are in a 
prosperous condition. They have a publish- 
ing establishment at Dayton, Ohio, from 
which are issued, the Gospel Herald, a week- 
ly, the Sunday School Herald, a monthly 
I periodical, a Quarterly Review, and a Chris- 
tian Register, annually, and the books and 
tracts of the denomination. The '• Herald 
of Gospel Liberty," now (1871) in its sixty- 
third year, is still published at Newburyport. 
Mass. There was also, previous to the war. 
a publishing establishment of the denomina- 
tion at Suftblk, Va , and " The Christian 
Sun," the organ of the Southern churches, 
was published there. The printing estab- 
lishment was destroyed and its ftmds lost 
during the war, but the paper, though dis- 
conthmed for the time, was revived in 1867. 
There is great difficulty in ascertaining ac- 
curately the statistics of the " Christian Con- 
nection." At the West they are often con- 
founded with '• The Disciples," with whom 
many of thnm fraternize. They have about 
70 Conferences, and it is estimated 3.000 
ministers, 5.0(10 churches, and about 300.000 
members. Their educational institutions are 
Antioib College. Ohio, which has been aided 
largely by the Unitarians, Union Christian 
College, Indiana. Le Grand Institute. Iowa, 
Wolfsborongh Seminary. New Hampshire, 
and htarkey Seminary, New York. We 
can obtain no statistics of their Sabbath 
Schools. 

VI 11. The ?.If.nsoxites. a denomination 
of Baptist-, first known in Holland as the 
followers of Simonis Menno in the sixteenth 
centtny. They settled in and about Ger- 
m.intown, Penn., in 1683, and in Lancaster 
County, Penn., in 1709. They have since 
spread over a great portion of Pennsylvania, 
and have churches also in Maryland, Vir- 
ginia, Ohio. Indiana, New York, and Cana- 
da. Their doctrines are, in general, similar 
to those of the rcgidar Baptist churches, ex- 
cept that some of them adnift the validity of 
sprinkling as bapti-m. They observe the 
ordinance of '-Washing the Saints' feet," and 
forbid their members to marry any except 
those who are members of the church. They 
resemble the Friends in their aversion to 



IIISTOUY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFEREN'T DENOMINATIONS. 



509 



legal oallis, to war, and to capital punish- 
ment. Tlioy are diviJud into three parties, 
or sub-sects : the Old INIennonites, the He- 
lormed Mennonitcs, who came off in 1811 ; 
and the Aniish Church or Hooker Men- 
nonitcs. All profess to agree to the stand- 
ard or confession of faith adopted at Dort. 
Holland in 1632. The sLiti.stics of the de- 
nomination, as well as its history, are very 
imperfectly known. According to their 
journals they had, in 1859, 128,000 mem- 
bers in Americii ; but later statistics (in 
1SG9) which do not, however, include Can- 
ada, where they are considerably numerous, 
put their number in the United States at 
60,000, with about 400 churches, and per- 
haps 450 ministers. In 18Go, the eighth 
census reported their church edifices as hav- 
ing only sittings for 37,1 lOO, but these returns 
were so fallacious that little dependence 
could be placed upon them. The denomina- 
tion are not apparently increasing with any 
great rapidity. They have one English, and 
two German newspapers, and a German and 
an English Almanac, all published at Elk- 
hart. Ind., except one of the German papers, 
which is issued from Milford Square, Penn., 
There are no colleges, we believe, under 
their special care or patronage. 

IX. Brethren, German Baptists, 
TuxKERS OR Dcnkers. A Small body of 
Bapti-ts, who originated at Schwartzenau, 
Germany, in 1708, but were driven to Amer- 
ica by persecution in 1719. They are found 
mostlv in Pennsylvania, Oiiio, and Virginia, 
Maryland, and Indiana. In doctrine they 
incline to Arminianisra, believing in a gene- 
ral redemption, thou-jh in other doctrines, 
they refer to the confession of Dort, wliich 
is Calvini-tic. They have been charged 
with believing in the final restoration of the 
wicked to heaven and happiness, but the doc- 
trine is not a part of their public teaching, 
and is not perhaps generally held by them. 
They practice trine immer-ion, and in bap- 
tism incline the body forward instead of 
backward as other Baptists do. They also 
j)ractice laying on of hands and prayer, while 
the person baptized is still in the water. 
The Lord's Supper is celebrated with its ac- 
companying usages of love feasts, the wash- 
ing of feet, the kiss of charity, and the right 
hand of fellowsliip. They also anoint the 
sick with oil for their recovery. In other 
matters they resemble the Friends, usmg 
great plainness of dress and speech, refusing 
to take legal oaths, and to engage in war. 



They will not go to law, and generally will 
not take interest on money lent. They have 
bishops or ministers, elders or teachers, dea- 
cons, and deaconesses, the latter being aged 
women set apart for this special work. The 
ministers or bishops alone receive ordination. 
Until recently, questions were decided by lot 
instead of by voting. Their statistics in 
1866 were 200 churches, 150 ministers or 
bishops, about 500 elders, and 20,000 mem- 
bers. They have recently established Sab- 
bath Schools, though a branch of them, (the 
Seventh Day Dunkers,) maintained a Sunday 
School at Ephratah, Penn., from 1740 to 
1770. 

X. Chdroh of God or Winebrenne- 
RIANS, a denomination of Baptists, organiz- 
ed in 1830, by Rev. John Winebrenner, for- 
merly a minister of the German Reformed 
Church at Harrisburg, Pa., where he was 
settled in 1821. He was very successful in 
bis pastorate, and great revivals took place 
in his congregations, but he was charged 
with deviating from the doctrines and prac- 
tice of the German Reformed Church. In 
1830 he withdrew from the church, and held 
a meeting with some other preachers, in 
which it was resolved that the only scriptural 
name for the one true Church was " The 
Church of God," and that they would hence- 
forth belong to that church only. At the 
same time Mr. Winebrenner avowed the 
change of views to which he had been led, 
which was accepted by the others. 

The doctrines then advanced are substan- 
tially those of " The Church of God" to-day. 
The general tone of her doctrines is thor- 
oughly evangelical though inclined rather to 
the Arminian than the Calvinistic view. So 
far as baptism, m mode and subjects, is con- 
cerned they are in unison with the regular 
Baptists. Their peculiar views of doctrine 
and polity are thus expressed by themselves : 
— She (-'The Church of God") believes in 
three positive ordin.ances of perpetual stand- 
ing in the church, viz.. Baptism, Feet- Wash- 
ing, and the Lord's Supper. — She believes 
that the ordinance of feet-washing, that is, 
the literal washing of the saints' feet, accord- 
ing to the words and example of Christ, is 
obligatory on all Christians, and ought to be 
observed by all the churches of God. 

She believes that the Lord's Supper should 
be often administered, and to be consistent, 
to Christians only, in a sitting posture and 
always in the evening. 

She believes in the propriety and utility 



510 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



of lioliling fast days, experience meetings, 
anxious meetings, camp meetings, and other 
special meetings of united and protracted 
efforts for the ediiication of the church, and 
the conversion of sinners. 

She believes in the personal coming and 
reign of Jesus Ciirist. Tiiere are also arti- 
cles in her confession of faiih against the 
manufacture, tratfic, and use of ardent spir- 
its as a beverage, against slavery as impolitic, 
and unchristian, and against civil wars as 
niiholy and sinful and that the saints of the 
Most High ought never to participate in 
them. 

Her church government is somewhat pe- 
culiar. She claims to be independent and 
Congregational, yet each church has its coun- 
cil, composed of the preachers in ciiarge, 
and the elders and deacons, whicii has all 
the powers of the session of a Presbyterian, 
or the consistory of a Reformed church. 

She has also her annual Elderships, con- 
sisting of all the pastor-, and an equal num- 
ber of ruling elders within a given district, 
and her Triennial General Eldership, con- 
sisting of delegates from the Annual Elder- 
ships, who, if preachers, must have been at 
least five years in the ministry. This Gen- 
eral Eldership owns and controls all the 
common property of the church. Her offi- 
cers are ministers, who may be either sta- 
tioned pastors, itinerants on circuits, or mis- 
sionaries at large ; ruling elders, and deacons. 
The church has a domestic and a foreign 
missionary society, and a printing establish- 
ment. They issue a weekly jiaper " The 
Church Advocate" a Sunday School paper, 
and a German weekly paper. They have 
two colleges, one at Centralia, Kansas, and 
another as yet only partly oi'ganizcd. Their 
numbers were estima'ed in 1870, at 400 
churches, STiO ordained ministers, and yO.OOO 
members. They are found mostly in Penn- 
svlvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Mich 
igau, and Kansas. 



IV. PRESBYTERIANS. 

I. The Presbyterian Church in the 
U. S. America. (North.) This large and 
respectable body of Christians, trace their 
origin as a denomination in this country to 
the Scottish Kirk, or Establisheii Church of 
Scotland, to which most of the early Pres- 
byterians in this country had belonged pre 
vious to their emigration hither. The (irst 



Presbyterian church in the Colonies is be- 
lieved to have been the Rehoboth church in 
Maryland, organized in 1690; that on Eliz- 
abeth River, Virginia, was formed about the 
same time, and those of Freeliolil, and 
Woodbridge, N. J., not later than 1 G'J2. The 
first presljytery, (that of Thiladelphia,) was 
formed in 1706, and a synod of four presby- 
teries in 1716. A division took place be- 
tween the "Old Side" and the " New Side" 
or " New Lights," in the synod (the synod 
of Philadelphia) in 1741 ; the "Old side in- 
sisting upon a thoroughly educated ministry, 
and the strict observance of Presbyterial 
order in accordance with the rules of the 
Scottish Kirk, while the " New Side" or "New 
Lights," who had been to some extent under 
the influence of AVhitfield and his followers, 
required conclusive evidence of experimental 
religion in the candidates for the ministry, 
and a good, but not necessarily a collegiate ed- 
ucation, and were le-s strenuous on the minu- 
tiaj of Presbyterial order. This division 
contiimed for 17 years, when the two parties 
came together and the two synods were 
united under the name of the '' Synod of 
New York, and Philadelphia." At the close 
of the Revolutionary war, there were about 
170 Presbyterian ministers, and rather more 
than that number of churches, with an en- 
tire membership of less than 20,000. In 
1788 a committee of the Synod had com- 
pleted the revision of the standards of doc- 
trine and polity of the church, and recom- 
mended its reorganization into four synods, 
and a General Assembly over the whole. 
This recommendation was adopted, and tak- 
ing a new de]iarture from the great revivals 
of 1800, 180 1,, and 1802, the church began 
to grow with considerable ra|)idity. In 1801 
a " plan of Union" was arranged between 
the Presbyterians and Congregationalists in 
the new settlements to prevent disagreement 
between the two denomiiiaiions, and to facil- 
itate their cooperation in missionary enter- 
prises. This continued 36 years. There 
had been evidently two parties in the Pres- 
byterian church prior to 1830, but there had 
been no decided collision between them until 
about 183"), when some test cases led to a 
division, and the excision of four synods 
from the General Assembly in 1837. At 
this time the New School General Assembly 
was formed, and for thirty-three years there 
were two General Assemblies, both calling 
themstdves the General Assembly of the 
l^resbyterian Church in the United States of 



HISTOKY AND PKOGllKSS OP THE DIFPKUENT DENOMINATIONS. 



511 



America ; both holding professedly to the 
same standards and alike in churcii polity as 
well as in doctrine. They were distinguished 
as the Old School and the New School Gen- 
eral Assemblies. Each iiad their missionary, 
and publication organizations, tiiough the 
New Scliool body cooperated for many years 
with the American Board of Commissioners 
for Foreign Missions, and the American 
Home Mis-ionary Society. In 1870, after 
a discussion and balloting for nearly two 
years on the details, the two General Assem- 
blies, with thi'ir entire constituency reunited, 
and now form one body. The Southern 
synods, the larger portion of them belonging 
to the Old School branch, seceded from the 
General Assemlily, tliose heretofore belong- 
ing to the New Scliool in 18.J7, and those of 
the Old School in 1861, and eventually coa- 
lesced in the General Assembly of the Pres- 
byterian Church, south. Overtures have 
since been made to them for reunion with 
the now United church in the Northern 
states, but they have been thus far repelled. 

The Presbyterian cluu'cli recognizes and 
avows the necessity of doctrinal stan lards of 
faith, and adopts as its standard, The West- 
minster Assi'mbly's Confession of Faith, and 
Exposition of doctrine, as contained in the 
shorter and larger cat(?chisms of that body. 
We have not space to give the whole of 
these, but in-ert below, those which are dis 
tiuctive in their character, giving only the 
answers to the que-itions of the shorter cate- 
chism, as these eoitain the declarative por 
tion of the confession. It is hardly necessary 
to say that this confession is always in ac- 
cordance with the principles, and often uses 
the veiy phraseology (translated) of Calvin 
in his celebrated Institutes, and is sustained 
by abundant references to scripture on each 
point. 

" 1. Asian's chief end is to glorify God, and 
to enjoy Illm forever. 

2. The Word of God, which is contained 
in the Scriptures of the Old and New Tes- 
taments, is the onlv rule to direct us how we 
may glorify and enjoy him forever. 

3. The Scriptures principally teach what 
man is to believe concerning God, and what 
'uty God requires of man. 

4. God is a spirit, infinite, eternal and un- 
changeable, in his being, wisdom, power, ho- 
liness, justice, goodness, and truth. 

5. There is but one only, the living and 
true God. 

6. There are three persons iii the God- 



head, the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Ghost, and these three are one God, the 
same in substance, equal in power and glory. 

7. The decrees of God are his eternal 
purpose, according to the counsel of his will, 
whereby for his own glory, he hath fore-or- 
dained whatsoever comes to pass. 

8. God executes his decrees in the works 
of creation and providence. 

9. The work of creation is, God's making 
all things of nothing, by the word of his 
power, in the space of six days, and all very 
good. 

10. God created man, male and female, 
after his own image, in knowledge, right- 
eousness, and holiness, with dominion over 
his creatures. 

11. God's works of providence are, his 
most holy, wise, and powerful preserving 
and governing all his creatures, and all their 
actions. 

12. When God had created man, he en- 
tered into a covenant of life with him, upon 
condition of perfect obedience ; forbidding 
him to cat of the tree of knowledse of ffood 
and evil, upon the pain of death. 

13. Our first parents being left to the 
freedom of their own will, fell from the 
estate in which they were created, l)y sin- 
ning against God. 

14. Sin is any want of conformity unto, 
or tran-gression of, the law of God. 

15. The sin whereby our first parents fell 
from the estate wherein they were created 
was their eating the forbidden fruit. 

IG. The covenant being made with Adam, 
not only for himself, but for his posterity ; 
all mankind descending from him by ordin- 
ary generation, sinned in him, and fell with 
him, in his first transgression. 

17. The fall brought mankind into an es- 
tate of sin and misery. 

18. The sinfulness of that estate where- 
into man fell, consists in the guilt of Adam's 
first sin, the want of original righteousness, 
and the corruption of his whole nature, 
which is commonly called original sin, to- 
gether with all actual transgressions which 
proceed from it. 

19. All mankind by their foil lost com- 
munion with God, are under his wrath and 
curse, and so made liable to all the miseries 
of this life, to death itself, and to the pains 
of hell forever. 

20. God having out of his mere good 
pleasure, from all eternity, elected some to 
everlasting life, did enter into a covenant of 



512 



niSTORV AND PHOaiJESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



grace to deliver them out of the estate of sin 
and misery, and to bring them into an estate 
of salvation by a Redeemer. 

21. The only Redeemer of God's elect is 
tlie Lord Jesus Christ, wlio, being the Eter- 
nal Sou of God, became man, and so was and 
continues to be God and man, in two dis- 
tinct natures and one person, forever. 

22. Christ, tlie Son of God, became man, 
by taliing to himself a true body and a rea- 
sonable soul, being conceived by the power 
of the Holy CJliost, in the womb of the Vir- 
gin Mary, and born of her, yet without siu. 

23. Christ, as our Redeemer, executes the 
offices of a prophet, of a priest, and of a 
king, both in his estate of humiliation and 
exaltation. 

24. He executes the office of a Prophet in 
revealing to us, by his Word and Spirit, the 
will of God for our salvation. 

25. He executes the office of a Priest, in 
his once otti^ring up himself a sacrifice, to sat- 
isfy divine justice, and reconcile us to God; 
and in making continual intercession for us. 

2(5. He executes the oilice of a King, in 
subduing us to himself, in ruling and defend- 
ing us, and in restraining and conquering all 
his and our enemies. 

27. Christ's humiliation consisted in his 
being born, and that in a low condition, made 
under the law, undergoing the miseries of 
this life, the wrath of God, and the accursed 
death of the cross ; in being buried, and con- 
tinuing under the power of death for a time. 

28. His exaltation consists in his rising 
again from the dead on the third day, in his 
ascending up into Heaven, in his sitting on 
the right hand of God the Father, and in his 
coming to judge the world at the last day. 

2',). We are made partakers of the re- 
demption jnirchased by Christ, by the effect- 
ual apjilication of it to us by his Holy Spirit. 

30. The Spirit applies to us the redemp- 
tion purchased by Christ, by working faith 
in us, and thereby uniting us to Christ, in 
our effectual calling. 

31. Effectual calling is the work of Grod's 
Spirit, whereby convincing us of our- sin and 
misery, enlightening our minds in the knowl- 
edge of Christ, and renewing our wills, he 
dolh persuade and enable us to embrace 
Jesus Christ, freely offered to us in the gos- 
pel. 

."52. They that are effectually called, do, 
in this life, partake of justification, adoption, 
sauctification, and the several benefits, which; 



in this life, do either accompany or flow from 
them. 

33. Justification is an act of God's free 
grace, wherein he pardons all our sins, and 
accepts us as righteous in his sight, only for 
the righteousness of Christ, imputed to us, 
and received by faith alone. 

34. Adoption is an act of God's free grace, 
whereby we are received mto the number, 
and have a right to all the privileges of, the 
sons of God. 

35. Sanetification is the work of God's free 
grace, whereby we are renewed in the whole 
man, after the image of God, and are ena- 
bled more and more to die unto sin, and live 
unto righteousness. 

3C. The benefits which, in this life, do 
accompany or flow from justification, adop- 
tion and sanetification, are, assurance of God's 
love, peace of conscience, joy in the Holy 
Ghost, increase of grace, and perseverance 
therein to the end. 

37. The souls of believers are, at their 
death, made ]ierfect in holiness, and do im- 
mediately pass into glory ; and their bodies 
being still united to Christ, do rest in their 
graves till the resurrection. 

38. At the resurrection, believers being 
raised up in g'ory, shall be openly acknowl- 
edged and acquitted in the day of judgment, 
and made perfectly blessed in the full enjoy- 
ment of God to all eternity. 

39. The duty which God requires of man 
is obedience to his revealed will. 

40. The rule which God at first revealed 
to man for his obedience, was the moral law. 

41. The moral law is snnniiarily compre- 
hended in the ten commandments. 

42. The sum of the ten commandments is, 
to love the Lord our God, with all our heart, 
with all our soul, with all our strength, and 
with all our mind ; and our neighbor as our- 
selves." 

(Then follow in the Catechism, forty 
questions and answers, comprising the words 
of the ten commandments and expositions of 
their teaching, not necessary to be inserted 
here, and the Catechism then proceeds with 
answer.) 

" 82. No mere man, since ttie fall, is able, 
in this life, jierfectly to keep the command- 
ments of God, but doth daily break them, in 
thought, word, and deed. 

83. All transgressions of the law are not 
equally heinous, some sins in themselves 
and by reason of several aggravations, 



IIISTOKY AND mOGRKSS OK THE DIFrKKENT DENOMINATIONS. 



il3 



being more henious in the sight of God than 
otli rs. 

84. Every sin deserves God's wrath and 
nirse, both iu this life, and that which is to 
come. 

85. To escape the wrath and curse of 
God, due to us for sin, God requireth of us 
faith iu .Tesus Christ, repentance unto life, 
witli the diligent use of all the outward 
jnciuis whereby Christ communicateth to us 
the heiietits of redemption. 

80. Faith in Jesus Christ is a saving 
grace, vv'hereby we receive and rest upon 
hi a alone for salvation, as he is offered to 
us iu the gospel. 

87. Repentance unto life is a saving grace 
whereby a sinner, out of a true sense of his 
sill, and apprehension of the mercy of God 
in Christ, doth with grief and hatred of his 
sin tiu-n from it unto God, with full purpose 
of, and endeavor after, new obedience. 

88. The outward and ordinary means 
whereby Christ communicateth to us the 
b 'ncfits of redemption, are his ordinances, 
especially the word, sacraments, and prayer ; 
all which are made effectual to the elect for 
salvation. 

83. The Spirit of God maketh the read- 
ing, but especially the preaching of the word, 
an effectual means of convincing and con- 
verting sinners, and of building tliem up in 
holiness and comfort, through faith, unto sal- 
vatiou. ' 

90. That the word may become effectual 
to salvation, we must attend thereunto with 
diligence, preparation, and prayer ; receive it 
with faith and love ; lay it up in our hearts, 
and i)rictise it iu our lives. 

81. The sacraments become effectual 
means of salvation, not from any virtue in 
tliem, or in him tiiat doth administer them ; 
liut only by the blessing of Christ, and the 
working of His Spirit, in them that by faith 
receive them. 

92. A sacrament is a holy ordinance insti- 
tuted by Christ wherein by sensible signs, 
Christ and the benefits of the new covenant 
are represented, sealed, and applied to be- 
lievers. 

93. The sacraments ctf the New Testa- 
ment are Baptism and the Lord's Supper. 

94. IJaptism is a sacrament wherein the 
washing with water, iu the name of the 
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
Ghost, doth signify and seal our engrafting 
into Christ, and partaking of the covenant of 
grace, and our engagement to be the Lord's. 

31* 



95. Baptism is not to be administered to 
any that are out of the visible church till they 
profess their faith in Christ and obedience to 
him ; but the infants of such as are members 
of the visible church are to be baptized. 

86. The Lord's Supper is a sacrament 
wherein by giving and receiving bread and 
wine, according to Christ's appointment, his 
death is showed forth ; and the worthy re- 
ceivers are, not after a corporeal and carnal 
manner, but by faith, made partakers of his 
body and blood, with all his benefits, to their 
spiritual nourishment and growth in grace. 

97. It is required of them that would 
worthily partake of the Lord's Supper, that 
they examine themselves of their knowledge 
to discern the Lord's body, of their faith to 
ft-ed upon him, of their repentance, love and 
new obedience, lest, coming unworthily, they 
eat and drink judgment to themselves. 

98. Prayer is an offering up of our desires 
to God for things agreeable to his will, in the 
name of Christ, with confession of our sins, 
and thankful acknowledgment of his mercies. 

99. Tiie wliole word of God is of use to 
direct us in prayer, but the special rule of 
direction is that form of praver which Christ 
taught his disciples, commonly called the 
Lord's Prayer. 

lOU. The preface of the Lord's Prayer 
(0«r Father wliicli art in Heareii) teaclieth 
us to draw near to God with all holy rever- 
<'nce and confidence, as children to a Father, 
uble and ready to help us ; and that we 
should pray with and for others. 

lOJ. In the first petition (Hallowed he thy 
name), we pray that God would enable us, 
and others, to glorify him in all that whereby 
he maketh himself known, and that he would 
dispose all things to his own glory. 

102. In the second petition {Thy kingdom 
come), we pray that Satan's kingdom may 
lie destroyed, and that the kingdom of grace 
may be advanced, ourselves and others 
brought into it, and kept in it, and that the 
kingdom of glory may be hastened. 

103. In the third petition (Thy will he 
done on earth as it is in Heaven), we pray, 
that God, by his grace, would make us both 
able and willing to know, obey, and submit 
to his will in all things, as the angels do in 
Heaven. 

104. In the fourth petition ( Give us this 
day 07tr daily bread), we pray that of God's 
free gift, we may receive a competent por- 
tion of the goo 1 things of this life, and enjoy 
his blessing vit'.i them. 



514 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



105. In the fifth petition {Forgive us our 
debts, as we forgive oitr debtors), we pray, 
that God, for Christ's sake, would freely 
pardon our sins ; which we are the rather 
encouraged to ask, because by his grace, we 
are enalikd from the heart to forgive others. 

106. In the sixth petition {A /id lead us not 
info temptation, but deliver us from evil), we 
pray that God would either keep us from be- 
ing tempted to sin, or support and deliver us 
when we are temi)ted. 

107. The conclusion of the Lord's Prayer 
(For thine is the kingdom, and the power and 
the glory, forever, Amen.) teacheth us to take 
our encouragement to prayer from God only, 
and in our prayers to praise Him, ascribing 
kingdom, power, and glory to Him. And in 
testimony of our desire and assurance to be 
heard, we say, amkn. 

It will be seen from the 95th article, that 
the Presbyterian Church, as well as some of 
the denominations which follow in this vol 
ume, is Pado-baptisl or holds to the doctrine 
of infant baptism, in distinction from the 
churches of the Baptist group which admin- 
ister baptism only to believers. It also dif- 
fers from all the churches which we have 
previously de^:cribed, in its church govern- 
ment and polity. The Presbyterial form 
of church government characterizes (under 
somewhat difft'rent names, but with the same 
meaning) all the churches which are affiliat 
ed with the Presbyterian, and it may there- 
fore be described here once for all. Their 
govermnent is representative rather than 
democratic. They recognize two classes of 
elders (presbyters); the teaching elder or 
minister of the word, and the ruling elder, 
a representative of the people, and their 
agent and ruler iu matters pertaining to the 
church. While they have but one teaching 
elder or preacher, generally a pastor, to the 
church, they liave two, four, or more, ruling 
elders, vvlio, with the teaching elder and dea 
cons, constitute the church session, which 
governs the church in all matters of doctrine 
and discipline, and being elected for that 
purjwse also, has charge of the temporalities 
of the church The church court next above 
the church, and, in ordinary cases, the lead- 
ing judicatory, is the presbytery, composed 
of the teaching elders or preaciiers, and one 
ruling elder in each church within its bounds. 
The ordaining, recoguition, and dismissal of 
pastors are conducted by the presbytery, on 
the application of the minister and the church 



with which he is, or is to be, otiicially con- 
nected. (It is noteworth that very often 
the minister is not a member of the church 
to which he ministers.) Difficult cases ot^ 
discipline, or those in which there are two 
parties in a church, come before the presby- 
tery for adjudication ; and all charges of her 
esy, or misconduct against any of its minis-, 
ters, is brought before it for trial and inves~ 
tigation. Above the presbytery in the gra- 
dation of church courts, is the synod, compos- 
ed of a certain number of presbyteries, and 
when in session consisting of delegates from 
each presbytery, lay and clerical. It is a 
court of appeal from the presbytery, and its| 
wider range of territory and larger number 
of able ministers and elders gives it some 
advantages. The final court of resort in all 
church matters is, however, the General 
Assembly or General Synod, composed of 
commissioners, clerical and lay, from the 
Synods. This General Assembly possesses 
entire control over the church action, the 
doctrinal soundness, and the educational and 
benevolent institutions of the denomination, 
and is, in its assembled capacity, the embod- 
iment of the Presbyterian Church in Amer- 
ica, or of the other organizations which it 
represents. Its sessions are annual, and usu- 
ally continue for two or three weeks, and 
sometimes even longer. The Presbyterian 
Churches seem to have for their specialty 
the discussion of the doctrines of their con- 
fession of faith, and the detection of any and 
every form of heresy. Months and years of 
their history have been devoted to these dis- 
cussions, and, while these are certainly im- 
portant, there is danger that in these dialec- 
tic strug<;les their strength will be so far 
expended that they will h.ardly keep pace 
with the other denominations in growth and 
progress. Still they are one of the strongest 
and most efficient of the evangelical denomi- 
nations in the United States, and are likely 
to do more efficient work in the future 
than they have in the past. They have 
shown a most commendable liberality recent- 
ly. During the year ending in May, 1871, 
the new reunited Presbyterian Church had 
contributed to a memorial fund for building 
and paying the debts on church edifices, en- 
dowing colleges and theological seminaries, 
jilantiug new missions, etc., etc., the magnifi- 
cent sum of $8,600,000, aside from their 
regular contributions to missionary, publica- 
tion, educational, and other objects, and the 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



515 



expenditure for current church expenses, sal- 
aries, etc., which amounted to about $8,000,- 
OOO more. 

Tlie statistics of the " Presbyterian Church 
in the U. S. A.," for 1870, were as follows : 

There were 5 1 synods ; 259 presbyteries ; 
4.2o8 ordained ministers ; 338 licentiates and 
541 candidates for licensure ; 4,526 churches; 
440,501 communicants ; 32,003 were added 
on examination, and 21,447 on certificate; 
10,122 adults and 16,476 infants baptized; 
448,857 members of the Sabbath Schools. 
The benevolent contributions (not including 
any [jart of tlie memorial fund mentioned 
above) $8,440,121. The net gain in the 
numl)er of communicants in the year 1870-1 
was 8,817, and the whole number of mem- 
bers reported May, 1871, 455,378. 

II. Pkesbyteiiian Church, in the 
United .States (South) — This body is com- 
posed of the seceders, who came off from the 
New Scliool Presbyterian Cimrch in 1857, 
and wlio joined the Southern General Assem- 
bly in 1863, and the seceders from the Old 
Soiiool Presbyterian Churcli, who left it in 
1861, and immediately formed the Southern 
General Assembly. The secession, Ln both 
instances, was based mainly on the position 
of the two Northern General Assemblies on 
the question of Slavery, and in the latter 
case also bi'cause that in the war then just 
commenced, the Old School General Assem- 
bly avowed its loyalty and adherence to the 
Union. During the war there were hasty, 
and, perhaps, injudicious resolutions passed 
on both sides, and to the overtures which have 
since been made by the re-united Presbyte- 
rian Church for their return, the Southern 
General Assembly has replied " that they 
do not approve of a union with the Northern 
Church because it is a total surrender of all 
fundamental doctrines, and embraces all 
shades of belief." " The Southern Church," 
tliey say, " is the only surviving heir of true, 
unfailing testimonies, and there are impassa- 
ble barriers to official intercourse between 
the two churches." 

Their doctrinal standards, and their church 
government and polity, are identical with 
that of the Northern church. 

Their statistics in 1870 were as follows : 
There were 11 synods, 55 presbyteries, 840 
ordained ministers, 52 licentiates, and 161 
candidates, for licensure; 1,469 churches, 
82,014 members reported (206 churches did 
not report the number of members) ; 5,048 
members added on examination, and 2,851 



on certificate ; 1,529 adults, and 3,555 chil- 
dren baptized ; 47,317 Sunday School schol- 
ars, $"^72,335 contributed to benevolent ob- 
jects and church expenses. 

III. United Presbyterian Church 
OP North America. The body bearing 
this name iu the United States is entirely 
difterent in its origin from the United Pres- 
byterian Church of Scotland and Canada, 
though holding nearly the same views of 
doctrine and polity. The Scottish United 
Presbyterian Church is composed of the 
United Secession Church (itself a coalition 
of the Burgher and Anti- Burgher Synods) 
and the Relief church, both secessions from 
the established Kirk of Scotland on the 
ground of its corruption in doctrine and prac- 
tice, and its enforcement of the settlement 
of ministers named by the heritors or aris- 
tocracy, against the will of the people. These 
two organizations came together and formed 
the Scottish United Presbyterian Church 
(which has a large and efficient branch in 
Cauaila) in 1847. The United Presbyte- 
rian Church, in the United States, was con- 
stituted in 1858 by the union of the Asso- 
ciate Reformed, and the Associate Presby- 
lerian churches. Of these two bodies, the 
fornKir was an agglomeration of small bodies 
of Covenanters, Associates, Reformed, and 
Burgher Presbyterians, which came together 
in 1 782 and formed a synod composed of three 
presbyteries at Philadelphia. In 1803 they 
had increased so as to form four provincial 
synods. New York, Pennsylvania, Scioto, and 
the Carolinas, under one representative gen- 
eral synod. Two of these provincial synods 
(Scioto and the Carolinas) afterward became 
independent. The "Associate Presbyterian 
Church" had a somewhat similar history 
though it retained its allegiance to the Scot- 
tish synod of the church of the same name 
until 1818. It had had several small seces- 
sions from its ranks, which have since formed 
small presbyterian bodies. At the time of 
the union of these two churches in the United 
Presbyterian Church, in 1858, a few churches 
and ministers protested against the union, 
and have since connected themselves with 
some of the smaller organizations. The 
United Presbyterian Church has two col- 
leges, two academies and theological semin- 
aries at Alleghany, Penn., Xenia, Ohio, Mon- 
mouth, Illinois, and Newburgh, New York. 
Its statistics in 1870 were: 8 synods, 56 
presbyteries, 553 ordained rauiisters, 43 li- 
centiates, 55 students for the ministry, 729 



516 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



congregation?, 00,807 members, of whom 
4,182 were receiveil on profession, and 3,935 
on certificate ; 609 Sabbatli Scliools were 
reported witli 6,761 officers and teachers, 
and 42,907 scholars. The total contribu- 
tions to benevolent and church purposes 
were $827,126. The denomination have 
5 foreign missions, 19 forei<rn mission sta- 
tions, 12 mission churches, 26 missionaries 
and helpers, and contributed, in 1870, $03,- 
500 for foreign missionary purposes. They 
have also successful Home Mission and 
Freedraen's Mission Boards, and expended 
on them $49,481, in 1870. The net increase 
of members in 1870, over the previous year, 
was 4,183, but the number of ministers had 
decreased by 12. The contributions were 
about $43,300 more than the previous year. 
IV. General Stnod op the Reform- 
ed Presbyterian Church. This body 
in its present organization, originated in 
1782 from the ministers of the Reformed 
Presbyterian church who refused to consent 
to tlie union with the Associate Church and 
mainta'ned theiroriginal organization. These 
were subsequent]}' strengtliened by the ar- 
rival of several ministers of the Reformed 
Presbyterian Church of Scotland in 1793, 
and subsequently. They were organized 
into a synod of three presbyteries in 1808, 
and in 1825 constituted a general synod. 
Their doctrines are those of the Westminster 
Assembly's Confession of Faith and Cate- 
chisms, with tiie addition of the Declaration 
and Testimony, in which they express their 
hostility to the interference of civil govern- 
ment with the affairs of the church, and their 
unwillingness to be bound by it in matters 
of conscience. On this point there has been 
a division among them, and a secession has 
resulted. The Reformed Presbyterian Church 
are the lineal and spiritual successors of the 
Covenanters or Cameronians, and like them 
have protested earnestly and steadily against 
a State chm-ch and the interference of the 
State with their ministry and their religious 
privileges. Even in the last century they 
were persecuted for these views in Scotland, 
and it was natural that they should adhere 
to them with the greater tenacity, but in this 
country where the Slate did not interfere 
with religious worship, and there was no 
established church, many of the ministers of 
the Reformed Presbyterian Church felt that 
there was no necessity for maintaining that 
hostility or non-intercourse with the civil 
government wliich, imder the circumstances, 



in Scotland, was right and proper ; and they 
accordingly participated, as citizens, in voting 
and in sucii civil duties as they deemed right, 
while protesting against all interference of 
the civil powerin mattersof'conscience. They, 
like all the Reformed Presbj'terians, were 
strongly opposed to slaverj', and would have 
no communion with slaveholders or those who 
defended slavery. A part of their ministers, 
whose feelings on the subjects of the civil 
power were intense, and v ho regarded our 
national constitution and government as in- 
fidel and Godless, withdrew from the Gen- 
eral Synod on these grounds in 1833 and 
formed a separate organization which is now 
somewhat more numerous tlian the General 
Synod. All the Reformed Presbyterians 
refuse to use any other than inspired hymns 
and psalms in their worship, and for the 
want of any more literal metrical translation 
of the Psalms of David sing from Rouse's 
version of the Psalms, which, thousrh rough 
and often uncouth in its translation, has the 
merit of following very closely the inspired 
original. The number of ministers of the 
General Synod in 1870 was 31, of churches 
43, and of members about 4,000. 

V. The Synod of the Reformed Pres- 
byterian Church, referred to above, which 
seceded in 1833, is now much larger than 
the General Synod, having, in 1870, 87 
churches, 86 ministers, 8,577 members, re- 
ceived 435 by profession and 288 by certifi- 
cate, and expended for benevolent purposes 
and church expenses about $144,000. 

VI. The Associate Reformed Synod 
OF the South, is the original Associate Re- 
formed Synod of the Carolinas, which, in 
1821, became an independent synod and re- 
fusing to follow the other associate reformed 
churches in their union with the Associate 
Presbyterians to form the United Presby- 
terian church, has existed as a distinct body. 
It is small in numbers. It does not differ in 
doctrine from the Associate Reformed Church 
or the Reformed Presbyterians, except on 
the subject of slavery, which it tolerated in 
its membership. Its growth was very slight 
for some years, but from 1842 to 1852 it 
increased quite rapidly; since 1863 there has 
been a decided falling off"; twenty-six of its 
ministers, and some of the churches, having 
joined other Presbyterian bodies. In 1870, 
its statistics were : ordained ministers, 57 ; 
probationers, 7 ; theological students, 6 ; 
churches, 66 ; members, about 6,.'jOO. They 
have a small theological school at Due West, 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



517 



S. C, and the organ of the church, Tlie As- 
sociate Reformed Presbyterian, is published 
at the same phice. 

VII. The Cumberland Presbyterian 
CuuRCii. This bod)' is Presbyterian in its 
church government and pohty but ditfers 
from the other Presbj'terian churches iu its 
doctrines. It liad its origin in the great re- 
vival in Kentucky and Tennessee m 179'J 
to 1803. That revival was mostly among a 
jieople nominally attached to the Presby- 
terian Church, and in the camp meetings 
which the scattered population rendered 
ntcessarj', there was a pressing demand for 
a greater number of ordained ministers to 
preach and to administer the ordinanc s. 
Under tliis demand some of the memliers of 
the newly organized Cumberland Presbytery, 
felt that it would be desirable to select n\:\\ 
of piety, promise, and a fair education, from 
the laity, and license and ordain them for 
tlie work of the mini~try. 'Ihis was accord- 
ingly done in a few instances with good re- 
sults. The Synod of Kentucky, however, 
regarded this proceeding as irregular and 
passed a resolution requiring the presbytery 
to present them for ex.iminalion to a com- 
mission of the synod, and directing the young 
men to appear. Both the presbytery and 
tiie young men refused to submit to this ex- 
amination, and the Synod, in 18(J5, in con- 
sequence prohibited them from exercising 
the functions of the ministry. The proscrib- 
ed ministers, however, continued in the ex- 
ercise of their ministerial duties, and after in 
vain appealing to the Synod for a repeal of 
their action, there was organized, in 1810, 
in Dickson County, Tennessee, a Cumber- 
land Presbytery entirely independent of the 
Synod, and of the Presbyterian Church. 
Tlie special ditference betwe'.Mi them and the 
Kentucky Synod is tims set forth in the 
record of their constitution : "All candidates 
for the ministry who may hereafter be licens- 
ed by this presbytery, and all the licentiates 
or probationers who may hereafter be or- 
dained by this presbytery, shall be required 
before such licensure and ordination, to re 
ceiveand accept the Confession of Faith and 
Discipline of the Presbyterian Church, ex- 
cept the idea of fatality that seems to be 
taugiit under the mysterious doctrine of pre- 
destination. It is to be understood, however, 
that such as can clearly receive the Confes- 
sion of Faith without an exception, will not 
be required to make any. Moreover, all 
hcentiatcs, before they are set apart to the 



whole work of the ministry, or ordained, 
shall be required to undergo an examination 
in English grammar, geography, astronomy, 
natural and moral jihilosophy, and church 
history. It will not be understood that ex- 
aminations in experimental religion and 
theology will be omitted. The presbytery 
may also require an examination on any 
part or all of the above branches of knowl- 
edge before licensure, if they deem it expe- 
dient." 

The growth of this new organization was 
rapid; in 1813 they Imd three large presby- 
teries, and a synod was formed in October 
of that year. A committee was appointed 
immediately by this Synod to prepare a Con- 
fession of Faith, Catechism, and form of 
Church Government. These, when reported, 
were adopted at a subsequent session, and 
remain unchanged to the present time. As 
would be inferred from the constitution of 
the Presbytery just quoted, their doctrines 
are less strongly Calvinistic than those of 
the Presbyterians generally. Rev. Dr. 
Heard, formerly President of Cumberland 
College, Princeton, Ky., thus summarizes 
their doctiines: "That the Scriptures <tte 
the only infallible rule of faith and practice ; 
that God is an infinite, ctern;d, and un- 
changeable Spirit, existing mysteriously in 
t'.iree persons, the three being equal in power 
and glory ; that God is the creator and pre- 
server of all things ; that the decrees of God 
extend only to what is for His glory ; that 
He has not decreed the existence of sin, be- 
cause it is neither for His glory nor for the 
good of His creatures ; that man was created 
uiH'ight in the image of God ; but that, by 
the transgression of the federal head, he has 
become totally depraved, so much so that he 
can do no good thmg without the aid of di- 
vine grace. That Jesus Christ is the medi- 
ator between God and man ; and that he is 
both God and man in one person ; that he 
obeyed the law perfectly, and died on the 
cross to make satisfaction for sin ; and that 
in the expressive language of the apostle. He 
tasted death for every man. That the Holy 
Spirit is the efficient agent in our conviction, 
regeneration, and sanctification ; that repent- 
ance and faith are necessary in order to ac- 
ceptance, and that both are inseparable from 
a change of he.art; that justification is by 
faith alone ; that sanctification is a progress- 
ive work and not completed till death; tliat 
those who believe in Christ, and are regen- 
erated by His spirit will never fall away and 



518 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



be lost ; that there will be a general resur- 
rection and judgment ; and that the righte- 
ous will be received to everlasting happiness, 
and the wicked consigned to everlasting 
misery." 

Tlie church polity of the Cumberland 
Presbyterian church does not differ from 
that of the Presbyterian church ; it has its 
teaching and ruling elders, its sessions, 
presbyteries, synods, and since 1829 a Gen- 
eral Assembly ; but as a matter of conven- 
ience, they have adopted the itinerant system 
of the Methodists, and Iiave many of their 
churches arranged in circuits. They practice 
infant baptism, and in the baptism of adults, 
immerse, sprinkle, or pour as the candidate 
prefers. They have a university, and two 
colleges, two theological seminaries, and a 
number of academies of high grade. Their 
Boaid of Publication has a small capital, 
about $7,000, but is very efficient. They 
publish three or four periodicals. Their 
Statistics in 1870 were estimated by their own 
organs as follows: 2.5 synods, 100 presbyte- 
ries, 1674 ordained ministers, 280 licentiates, 
320 candidates for the ministry, about 2,000 
churches, and over 80,000 members. Nearly 
10,000 communicants were added to the 
church in 1870. 

VIII. The Ri!formed (late Dutch) 
Church. This is the oldest, tiiough by no 
means the largest of the Protestant churches 
in the United States, being an offshoot of 
the Reformed Church of Holland, and first 
planted in New Amsterdam, now New York 
City, in 1014, though no church was fully 
organized before 1 628. Its growth was slow 
for 150 years, being confined almost exclu- 
sively to the Dutch speaking portion of the 
citizens, and its pulpit exercises being entirely 
in Dutch until near the commencement of 
the present century. It was dependent upon 
the church in Holland for the education and 
ordination of its ministry until 1771, when 
through the efforts of Rev. Dr. Livingston, 
the Classis of Amsterdam, with which all 
the churches Iiere were connected, recom- 
mended them to organize as an independent 
church and make provision for the education 
of their ministry. Queen's (afterward Rut- 
ger's) College, at New Brunswick, was 
founded about 1770, and a professorship of 
theology (at first separate from the college) 
established in New York, with Dr. Livings- 
ton as professor, in 1781. After the general 
substitution of English for Dutch in the 
preaching of its ministers, the church began 



to grow and has maintained a prominent 
position in New York, New Jersey, and 
Eastern Pennsylvania, where alone they 
have any considerable membership. They 
have outside of these states 52 churches, 
mostly in Michigan, Illinois, and Wisconsin, 
and fifteen on missionary ground in India. 

The doctrines of the Reformed church, as 
laid down in the Belgic confession, the Hei- 
delberg catechism, and the Canons of the 
synod of Dort, do not vary in any important 
point from those of the Westminster confes- 
sion of faith and catechisms, and are properly 
reckoned among the Calvinistic confessions 
of faith. The polity of the church is also 
Presbyterian, though with different names 
for the same things. The Consistory, which 
answers to the church session in the Presby- 
terian church, is composed of the dominie or 
pastor, the elders, and the deacons. The 
elders are chosen for two years, and after an 
interval of a year may be again elected. 
The classis answers to the presbytery, and 
the particular synods to the synods of the 
Presbyterian church, whUe they ha^e a 
General Synod instead of a General Assem- 
bly. They are active in their missionary 
enterprises, having missions in Amoy, China, 
and its vicinity, and in Arcot, India. Until 
1857 they were connected in these mission- 
ary enterprises with the American Board of 
Commissioners for Foreign Missions, but in 
that year they withdrew amicably and have 
since conducted them successfully alone, and 
have added a mission in .Japan. They have 
an old and flourishing college (Rutger's) at 
New Brunswick, and a Theological seminary 
at the same place. They have a publish'ng 
establishment which issues four periodicals, 
and the denominational Psalmody and other 
books. 

Their statistics for 1870 were, one Gene- 
ral Sjiiod, eight particular synods, 33 classes, 
464 churches, 493 ministers, and 5 candidates, 
38,552 families, 61,444 members, 3421 in- 
fants and 974 adults baptized, 3,628 received 
on confession, and 2,294 by certificate, 48,- 
411 Sunday School scholars. Benevolent 
contributions, $1,187,681.03, including those 
for congregational purposes. In 1868 the 
different classes voted to drop the word 
Dutch from their title, and be henceforth 
known as The Reformed Church. 

IX. The True Reformed Dutch 
Church. In 1822 Rev. Solomon Froeligh, 
D. D., of Hackensack, and a few other min- 
isters seceded, with their congregations, from 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENG IINATIONS. 



519 



the Reformed (Dutch) Church on the al eged 
j;rouiKl of the prevailing laxiiess in doctrine 
and discipline, and organized a church with 
tlie above title. It has made very little prog- 
ress, but had in 1862 less than 20 congrega- 
tions, and about 1500 members. 

X. The Reformed Church in the 
Unitkd States, (late Gkrman). This, the 
last though by no means the least of the Amer- 
ican churches which conform to the Presby- 
terian polity though ihey do not bear the 
Presb3'leiian name, is a descendant, though 
witli some modilications of doctrine, of the 
Reformed churches of Holland, Germany, 
France, and Switzerland. Rev. Dr. E. V. 
Gcrhart, tiie President of its General Synod, 
and its principal historiographer, states that 
the fust members of the Reformed Church 
of Germany, who came to the United States 
in an}' considerable numbers, were a body 
of Palatines, who tempted by William Penn's 
offer of lands, migrated to Pennsylvania and 
the adjacent colonies, in the early part of 
the eighteenth century, and many of whom 
settled east of the Susquehanna. It was 
among a colony of about 40O of these Pala- 
tines who settled in Montgomery county, 
Penn., about 1727, that Rev. Miciiael Weiss, 
one of their number, organized the first Ger- 
man Reformed Church. In the twenty yeats 
which followed, they were without ministers, 
teachers, or church organizations except this 
parent church, and though they had nearly 
thirty thousand of their people, mostly speak- 
ing Geinian only, within a moderate circuit, 
they were like sheep without a shepherd. 
Rev. Michael Schlatter, a German lieformed 
minister from St. Gall, Switzerland, came 
over in 1 740 as a missionary from the syn- 
ods of North and South Holland, to look 
after their welfare. A man of great energy, 
skill, and judgment, hesuceeeded, aftera time, 
in evoking order from this chaos. He or- 
ganized churches, administered the sacra- 
ments, located pastors, established schools, 
and at the end of a year and a half, in Sep- 
tember, 1747, was able to form the first 
synod or coetus of the German Reformed 
Church, consisting of five ministers, and 
twenty-six elders, who represented forty-six 
churches, and a population of thirty thou- 
sand. He then returned to Europe and 
succeeded in creating a large fund, the inter- 
est of which was devoted to sustaining min- 
isters and school teachers among these peo- 
ple, and brought back with him to America 
five young ministers, and the promise of a 



number more. This first coetus or synod 
was, like the Reformed Dutch church, subor- 
dinate to the classis of Amsterdam, until 
1793, when it resolved to become independ- 
ent, the number of churches having increased 
to one hundred and fifty, thougii there were 
yet but twenty-two ordained ministers. On 
becoming independent, the coetus became 
the synod, and the cimrch took the name of 
The Higii German Reformed Church in dis- 
tinction from the Low German or Dutch 
Reformed Church. There was yet a great 
scarcity of ministers, and as they had no 
college or theological seminary, it was found 
impossible to educate their ministry thor- 
oughly, and many eirors and irregularities 
crept into the church. The standard of 
faith in the Reformed German church was 
like that of its Holland sister, the Heidel- 
berg catechism, but unlike the Dutch church, 
it did not adopt the Belgic confession or the 
canons of the synod of Dort, as defining the 
sense in which the postulates of the cate- 
chism should be held. The rationalism 
which during the years 1700-1830 was per- 
vading so many of the German churches, 
was not without its effect here ; and this 
effect was produced more readily because 
the services of the church were conducted 
wholly in German until 1825. After a long 
struggle, a theological seminary was estab- 
lished in 1824, and after two or three re- 
movals, finally located at Mercersburg, Pa., 
in 1835. A religious periodical in English 
was established in 1828, and one in German 
in 1836. In 1830 a high school was estab- 
lished at York, which was removed to 
Mercersburg in 1835, and in 1836 became 
Marshall College. Seventeen years later 
(1853) it was consolidated with Franklin 
College at Lancaster, and removed to that 
city. The influence of the theological school, 
under the hands of its able professors Nevin, 
Ranch, Schaffi and Gerhart, was felt in crys- 
talizing the church into a unity of doctrine 
and fiiith which was greatly in contrast with 
its previous history. Not that there were 
no dissidents ; in their own ranks there were 
two parties who opposed the Mercersbin-g phi- 
losophy and theology, as it began to be called ; 
those whose sympathies were with the Meth- 
odist church, and for whom it was too Cal- 
vinistic, and those who adhered to the Belgic 
confession and the canons of the synod of 
Dort, or rather went beyond them in their 
higher Calvinistic leanings. There was also 
strong oppositioa manifested to the avowal 



520 



IIISTOUY AND PROGRESS OF THE PirFEREXT DENOMINATIONS. 



boldly made by the Mercersburg theologians 
that the Church of Rome, despite its many 
errors, was a part of the Church of Christ, 
and that Protestantism was a historical con- 
tinuation of the Church Catholic ; opposition 
also came from without to the>e views ; but 
(Ml the whole they may be safely asserted to 
111' the views to-day of the great majority of 
that church. It is a cardinal ]ioiut in this 
theology that the Apostle's Creed gives form 
and vitalit}' to the doctrines of the Heidel- 
berg catechism ; and that any explanation of 
the catechism which leaves this out of the 
account is defective, and unsound. Rev. Dr. 
Gerhart thus summarizes the views held by 
the JSIi-Tcersburg theologians as thus deduced 
from the catechism : 

'■1. Adam, created in the image of God, 
was endowed with capacity to resist tempta- 
tion and abide in his original state of litie — 
communion with God ; but he transgressed 
the command of God by a free act of his 
own will through the instigation of the devil, 
the head of the kingdom of darkness. 

2. The fall of Adam was not that of an 
individual only, but the fall of the human 
race. 

3. All men are born with the fiillen 
nature of Adam, and are thus under the 
power of the kingdom of darkne-s, inclined 
to all evil, and unapt to any good ; and are 
subject to tiie wrath of God, who is terribly 
displeased with their inborn as well as actual 
Bins, and will punish them in just judgment 
in time and in eternity. 

4. The Eternal Law of God, incarnate 
by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, true 
God and true man in one person, is the prin- 
ciple and substance of the new creation. 

5. In tlie mystery of the Word made 
flesh, the humanity which the Son of God 
assumed into organic and eternal union witii 
Himself, is the most perfect of supernatural 
rerelation, and the only medium of Divine 
grace. 

6. All the acts of Christ are not those of 
God or of man separately taken, but the 
acts of the God-man. 

7. His baptism, fasting, and temptation ; 
His miracles and His word ; His agony, 
passion, and death ; His descent into Hades ; 
His resurrection from the dead, ascension to 
heaven, and session at the right hand of 
God ; the coming of the Holy Ghost, and 
His second advent — all derive their signifi- 
cance and saving virtue from the mysterious 
coustitution of his person. 



8. * The atonement for tiie sin of man is 
the reconciliatioa of God and fallen humanity 
in the person and work of Jesus Christ. It 
is not simply tlie ottering of himself on the 
cross, but the whole |irocess of resuming hu 
man nature into life. Communion with God, 
and includes bolh j)erfect satisfaction to the 
law by suttering the penalty .and all the con- 
sequences of sill, anil complete victory ov r 
the devil. The full benelit of the atonement 
inures to the believer, because by faith he is 
a member of Christ, and a partaker of his 
anointing, and thus stands before God in the 
life and righteousness of Christ. 

9. The Church constituted by the coming 
of the Holy Ghost, is the mystical body of 
Cliri>t, a new, real, and objective order of 
existence, and is both supernatural and nat- 
ural, divine and human, heavenly and earthly 
the fulness of him that lilleth all in all ; in 
who>e communion alone there is redemption 
fiom sin, and all its consequences, fellowship 
with God in Christ, and the hope of com- 
plete victory over death and hell, and of 
eternal glory. The relation which the new 
regenerated humanity. His mystical body, 
bears to Christ the head, the second Adam, 
is analogous to the organic relation which 
the old, fallen, accursed humanity bears to 
the first Adam. 

10. Tiie sacraments are visible, holy 
signs and seals, wherein God by an objective 
transaction, confirms to sinners the promise 
of the Gospel. They are the means, whereby 
men through the power of the Holy Ghost 
are made partakers of the substance of di- 
vine grace, that is of Christ and all his ben- 
efits. 

1 1 . Holy baptism is a divine transaction, 
wherein the subject is washed with the 
blood and spirit of Christ from all the pollu- 
tion of his sins as certainly as he is washed 
outwardly with water ; that is, he is renewed 
by the Holy Ghost, and sanctified to be a 
member of Christ, that so he may more and 
more die unto sin, and lead a holy and un- 
blamable life. 

12. Baptized persons do not attain unto 
the resurrection of the dead and eternal life 
in virtue simply of iioly baptism, but only 
on the condition that, improving the grace 
of baptism, they believe from the heart on 
Christ, die unto sin daily, and lead a holy 
life, and thus realize the full virtue of the 
incarnation and atonement. 

13. Tiie sacrament of the holy supper is 
the abiding memorial of the sacrifice of our 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OP TIIE< DIFFKRENT DENOJflNATIONS. 



521 



blt'ssed Saviour, Jesus Christ, for qui* sins, | 
upon the cross; tlie seal of iiis perpetuiil 
presence in tlie chinch by the Holy Gho-t 
the mystical exhibition of his one otieiing of 
himself made once, but ot force always to 
put away sin ; the pledge of his undying 
love to his people, and the bond of his living 
union and i'ellowship with them to the end 
of time. In the use of this sacrament, be- 
lieving coiiiiiiunicants do not onh' commem- 
orate his piecious death as the one all-suHi- 
cient, vicarious sacrilici^ for their sins, but 
Christ himself also, with his crucified body 
aud shed blood, feeds and nourishes their 
souls to everlasting lite ; that is, by this visi- 
ble sign and pledge he assures them that 
they are really pai takers of his true body 
and blood, through the woikingof the llolv 
Ghost, as they receive, by the mouth of the 
bod}-, these holy tokens in remembrance of 
him. 

14. The bread and wine of the holy 
supper are not transmuted into the very body 
and very blood of Christ, but continue to be 
natural bread aud wuie ; uor i~ tlie body and 
blood ol' Car isl consul)stanti:d. that is, in, vvitli. 
and under the natunil liiead and wne. 1 ut 
the sacr.imental transact on is a lioly mystery. 
in wiiioh the full life giving and s:iv.ng virtue 
of Christ, mediated througli his humanity, is 
really present by the supernatural power ot 
the Holy Ghost, and communiented to them 
who, by true taith, eat and drink worthily, 
discerning the Lord's body. 

15. At death the righteous pass into a 
state of joy and felicity and abide in rest aud 
peace until tliey reach their consummation 
of redemption and bliss, in the glorious res- 
urrection of the last da}'. 

IG. The second advent of Christ to judge 
the woild in righteousness, will complete the 
objective order of redemption, and also the 
subjec ive process of life and salvation in 
his body, the chui-ch ; when the lust enemy. 
which is death, shall be destroyed ; whi n 
the saints shall come forth from the dead in 
the full image of their ri?en Lord, and with 
Him pass into heaven, the state of perfect 
blessedness, and the wicked shall ri-e to the 
resurrection of eternal damnation." 

On points of doctrine not directly connected 
with the foregoing statements, Dr. Geriiart 
gives the following summary of the belief 
of the Reformed Church. 

" Tbe church affirms that the person of 
Christ is the true principle of sound tlieol- 
ogy ; that Christianity is a new life, that the 



humanity of Christ is an es-ential constituent 
of Chrsiianity ; tbat the Christian church is 
an organic continuation in time and space of 
the lif» powei-s of the new creation in Christ 
Jesus; that the covenant is an order or in- 
stitution of grace, spiritual and real ; that 
tlie Bible was written by members of the 
church under plenary inspiration of the Holy 
Ghost; that private judgment is subordinate 
to the general judgment of the church as 
expressed particidarly in the I-^cumenical 
creeds ; that the Word of God is the only 
form of faith and practice, and is superior 
to all creeds and confessions ; that the indi- 
vidual comes to a right apprehension of the 
contents of the Bible throuc;h the teachinsr 
of the church; that the election of grace 
unto life is effectual in and by the established 
economy of grace ; that justilication is by 
an act of faitli in the person and work of 
Christ; and consists both in the imputation 
and impartation of Christ and his righteous- 
ness ; that holy baptism is the sacrament of 
regeneration, regeneration being the transi- 
tion from the state of nature to the state of 
grace, as natural birih is the transition to the 
natural world ; that regeneration succeeded 
by conveivion and sanctification completes 
itself in the resurrection from the dead, in- 
asmuch as regeneration and salvation pertain 
to tlie en:ire man, the body no less than the 
soul ; that believers only hold communion 
with Christ in the Lord's Supper; that the 
ordinary, divinely ordained menus of grace 
are adequate to all the neids of the church 
and the world, and it faithfully used do not 
fail to promote a steady and vigorous growth 
of the chiu-ch ; that although the church of 
Rome holds many articles of faith, and ap- 
proves and perpetuates many customs which 
are not warranted by the Scriptures and are 
wrong, she is nevertheless a part of the 
church of Christ ; and that Protestantism is 
a historical continuation of the Church Cath- 
olic, in a new and higher form of faith, or- 
ganization, and practice." 

As to its luorship the Reformed Churdi 
was originally liturgical and though extem- 
poraneous prayer has prevailed cluring tl e 
most of the present century in the regular 
services of the Lord's Dav, there is now a 
strong tendency to revert to its tbrnier litur- 
gical service. After repeated trials and the 
most careful revision and modifications the 
;uces ive liturgical commiitccs of the Gen- 
eral and the Eastern Synods iiave perfected 
an "Order of worship (including a liturgy) 



522 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS O^ THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



for the Reformed Chuich" which was pub- 
lished in 18G6, and lias been adopted in most 
of the churclies of the Eastern synod, and 
in some of those of the Western synods. It 
is gaining ground and will probably be event- 
ually the established book of worship for the 
entire cluirch. 

The government of the church is strictly 
Presbyteiian. The consistory, answering to 
the church session, is composed of tlie pas- 
tor, eklers and deacons. Both elders and 
deacons are chosen by the communicant 
members, for a term of two, three, or four 
years, generally two years, and ordained by 
"laying on of hands and installed. When 
the term expires, the administrative power 
ceases, but not the office. If reelected, in- 
stallation is repeated, but not ordination. 
The classis is the first church court above 
the church, and consists of the ministers 
and an elder from each parish within a given 
distriit. The classes are subject to the 
synod, which is composed of a given number 
of ministers and elders, cho-ien by four or 
more adjacent classes. 'I'he synods are sub- 
ject to the General Synod, which consists of 
ministers and elders chosen by all the classes 
of the church. Appeals to the General 
Synod may be taken fiom any of the lower 
church courts. Infant baptism is faithfully 
and universally obsei'ved. All the childien 
and youth are carefully catechised by the 
pastor once in two weeks or oftener, for a. 
period of from three to nine months in the 
year. Catechumens possessing the requisite 
qualifications are, afier examination in pres- 
ence of the elders, received inlo the fall com- 
munion of the church by the rite of confiim- 
ation. The holy eonununion is commonly 
administered twice a year, and in many of 
the chui-ehes four times. The comnmnicants 
receive the sacred emblems liy companies, 
standing around the altar. They observe 
the (e-tiva!s, Christmas, Good Friday, Ki.s.ei', 
and Whit-Sunday with much solemnity. 

The statistics of the Refoimed (German) 
Chuich lor 1870, are as follows: one Gen 
eral Synod ; four particular synods, viz : the 
Eastern, or as it is olHcially called, "'The 
Synod of the Reformed Church in the United 
States"; "The Synod of Ohio, and adjacent 
States" ; " The Synod of the Reformed 
Church in the Northwest," and the " Pitts- 
burg Synod of the Reformed Church" ; 
thirty one classes, 526 ministers, 1170 con- 
gregations, 217,910 members, of whom, how- 
ever, only 90,728 are communicants, the 



remainder being baptized children and uncon- 
fiimed members; l"i,776 were baptized, 
7,068 confirmed, and 3,59'2 received on cer- 
tificate. The number of Sunday Schools 
reported is 1,019, and of Sunday School 
scholars 49,960. The amount of benevolent 
contributions, exclusive of those for congre- 
gatioual purposes, was $76,453. There are 
2 theological seminaries, one at Jlercersburg, 
Pa., with 4 prof(3Ssors, and 28 students ; the 
other at Tiflin, Ohio, with two professors, 
and 20 students ; a mission house at She- 
boygan, Wisconsin, with 3 professors, and 22 
students. There are. two fully organized 
colleges, Franklin and Marshall, at Lancas- 
ter, Pa., and Heidelberg College at Tiffin, 
Ohio. There are also seven classical insti- 
tut ons, most of them called colleges, five of 
them in Pa., one in North Carolina, and one 
in Ohio ; and two female seminaries, one at 
Allentown, Pa., the other at Tyrconnell, 
Maiyland. They have eleven periodicals, 
two quarterly (reviews), four weekly, and 
one semi niiiiithiy newspapers; a monthly 
magazine, and three monthly Sunday School 
papers. Tliere are two printing esUiblish- 
ments, one at Philadelphia, the other at 
Cleveland, Ohio. 



V. METHODISTS. 

I. The Methodist Episcopal Church. 

No denomination, in modern times, has 
had so rapid a growth as the Methodists. 
Numbering in its various divisions over two 
million of connnunicants, and having an ad- 
herent population of nearly eight millions, it 
seems almost incredible that the first Meth- 
odist society was organized in New York 
City in 1766, and that they had no existence 
as a distinct church until 1784, when- their 
connection with the Church of England, and 
with the Protestant Ei)iscopal Church in 
this country, was formally dissolved, and 
Thomas Coke, who had received ordination 
as a Superintendent over the Methodist so- 
cieties in the United States at the hand of 
•lohn Wesley ; and Francis Asbury, whom 
he had in turn ordained for the same office, 
met a conference of the Methodist Societies 
at Baltimore, and there assumed the title and 
position of " Bishops of the Methodist E|ns- 
copal Church ni America." Tiiis act was 
displeasing to Mr. Wesley, who ]>rotegted 
against It in strong terms, and Dr. Coke, 



niSTOKY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



523 



wlio subsequently returned to England, never 
attempted to exercise Episcopal functions 
there. Still the act was a ju<licious one. and 
led to the more rapid de\elopnient of the 
great denomination which sprung from such 
small beginnings. 

The history of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church has been one of almost constant suc- 
cess. There have been, indeed, secessions 
in considerable numbers from its raidts, as 
there have from the Wesleyan Methodists of 
Great Britain, and some of these seceding 
bodies have themselves attained subseiiuently 
a large membership, ijut the seceders have 
not left the church on doctrinal grounds but 
on diilei-ent views of church polity and dis- 
cipline. Tims the "African Methodist Epis- 
copal Church" withdrew, in 1787, on account 
of the prevailing prejudice against persons 
of color, and the " Zion African IMethodist 
Episcopal Chiu'ch," in 1820, for the same 
reason. The " Methodist Protestant Church" 
withdrew in 1830, on account of ditlerences 
in regard to tlie episcopate and lay repre- 
sentation. '• The Wesleyan Methodist Con- 
nection of America" seceded in 1843, in 
consequence of a dilference of views on slav- 
ery, temperance, and church government. 
'•The Methodist Episcopal Church, South," 
by far the largest of the separating bodies, 
came off in 1844, from dissatisfaction with 
tlie action of the genend Conference of tiint 
year, requiring Rev. J. O. Andrew, D. D., 
one of tlie bishops, to desist from the exer- 
cise of his episcopal functions on account of 
his being a slaveholder. vSince 1844 there 
have been several secessions of small num- 
bers of churches which have generally be- 
come extinct or have returned to the church 
in a few years. The Free Methodists still 
remain separate, basing their withdrawal on 
their desire to return to the simplicity, plain- 
ness, and avoidance of display, either in dress 
or in the adorimient of their churches, into 
which, as they allege, the great botly of 
Methodists have fallen. The marvelous 
growth of the IMethoilist Episcopal Church 
is not due to any very great extent, like that 
of the Roman Catholic Cliurch. to immigra- 
tion ; considerable numbers of Methodists 
have, indeed, come here from Great Britain. 
Ireland, and latterly from Germany and 
Swedc'i ; but many of thvse have fone into 
other though kindred denou i atiwis. Its 
great iiicrcase has been due to the earnest 
and constant labors of its ministers, local 
preachers, and class leaders, to its strong 



spirit of propagandism, and to its remarkable 
adaptation as a religious system, to pioneer 
life, and to the necessities of a new and only 
partially settled country. Its triumidis in 
the western states have been very great ; in 
several of the slates, and especially in Indiana 
and Iowa, its adherent population are said to 
constitute nearly or quite one-half of the peo- 
ple of the state. Its organization for the jn-o- 
motion of its objects is very efficient. It main- 
tains in most of the large cities, and within 
convenient distance of each other, its denom- 
inational journals, owned by the General 
Conference, and advocating its measures. It 
has a l)ook concern, which, after paving over 
one-third of its capital to the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, South, and dividing its surplus 
prolits aniong the annual conferences for 
the support of enfeebled and superannuated 
preachers, and the widows and children of 
those who have died in the ministry, is still 
the largest publishing house in America, 
having a net capital of $1,458,575, and as- 
sets to the amount of $2,049,549 in 1870. 
Every itinerant minister is, by virtue of his 
position, a colporteur and propagandist for 
the sale and distribution of its publications. 
It has largely engaged in the Sunday School 
work, and througli this means has greatly 
increased its membership. Its camp meet- 
ings, love feasts, classes, and other means of 
appealing to the emotional element in the 
nature of men, attract many to its worship 
and to its communion. The gradations in 
its ministerial service are admirably adapted 
to promote efficiency in its ministry. The 
class-leader in charge of a small section of a 
church, for wlio<e spiritual growth and wel- 
fare he is in some sense responsible, may, if 
he develops superior gifts become an ex- 
horter ; the exhorter in turn may develop 
into a local preacher, or into an itinerant or 
circuit preacher, passing through his proba- 
tion of the diaconate ; the itinerant can look 
forward to becoming a presiding elder over 
the churches of a District ; and from the 
ranks of these come the editors of the de- 
nominational journals, the managers or 
agents of the book concern and its branches, 
and the Bishops. Tliese last have varied 
and arduous labors to perform, and are liable 
to bi'eak down from over-work. They have 
no dioceses like the bishops of the Roman 
Catholic, Episcopal, and ftloravian churches, 
but are, in the true sense of the word, bish- 
ops, — episcopoi, — overseers, of the vrhole 
church. They visit and preside over tha 



524 



niSTOKT AND PROGRESS OF THE I'lFFEBENT DENOMINATIONS. 



annual conferences, assign, in council with 
the presiding elders, to the itinerants their 
charges, visit the missionary fields, superin- 
tend and manage, in connection with the 
other officers, the Mi-sionary, Sunday School, 
and publishing institutions of the church, and 
constitute, either singly or together, a high 
court of appeal — in th(; interim of the ses- 
sions of the Quadrennial Conference — in 
matters of church polity and discipline, and 
in those appertaining to the property or 
finances of the church. 

The college of bishops, when full, has now 
ten members ; but since the t^uadrennial 
Conference of 18G8, three, Bishops Thom- 
son, Kingsley, and Clark, have died, and two 
others are in such feeble health as to be ca- 
pable of very little labor. 

The following statement of the doctrines 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church is slightly 
abridged from a declaration of their doc- 
trines, made by Rev. Abel Stevens, D. D., 
LL. D., the historian of Methodism, and one 
of their ablest writers. 

The doctrines of the INIethodist Episcopal 
Church are contained in twenty-five articles, 
and are a< follows : 1. There is but one 
living and true Gol, everlasting, without 
body or parts, of infinite power, wisdom and 
goodness, the maker of all things visible and 
invisible. And in unity of this Godhead, 
there are three persons, of one substance, 
power and eternity — the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost. 2. The Son, who is 
the Word of the Father, the very and eter- 
nal God, of one substance with tlie Father, 
took man's nature in tlie womb of the blessed 
Virgin ; so that two whole and perfect na- 
tures, that is to say, tlie Godliead and man- 
hood, were joined together in one peivon, 
never to be divided, whereof is one Christ, 
very God and very man, who ti'uly suffered, 
was crucified, dead and buried, to reconcile 
his Father to us, and to be a sacrifice, not 
only for original guilt but also for the actual 
sins of men. 3. Christ did truly rise again 
from the dead, and took again hi-; body, with 
all things appertaining to llie perfection of 
man's nature, wherewith he ascended to 
heaven, and there sitteth until he return to 
judge all men at the last day. 4. Tlie Holy 
Ghost, proceeding fi'oin the Father and the 
Son, is of one substance, majesty, and glory, 
with the Fatlier and tiie Son, very and eter- 
nal God. 5. The holy Scriptures contain 
all things necessary t ) salvation ; so that 
■whatsoever U not read therein, nor may be 



proved thereby, is not required of any man, 
that it should be believed as an article of 
faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to 
salvation. By the Holy Scriptures we do 
understand those canonical books of the Old 
and New Testaments of whose authority T\as 
never any doubt in the church. 9. The Old 
Testament is not contraiy to the New, for 
both in the Old and New Testament ever- 
lasting life is offered to mankind by Christ, 
who is the only mediator between God and 
man, being bolli God and man. Wherefore 
they are not to be heard who feign that the 
old fathers did look oidy for transitory prom- 
ises. Although the law given from God by 
]\Ioses, as touching ceremonies and rites, doth 
not bind Ciiristians, nor ought the civil pre- 
cepts thereof of necessity to be received in 
any commonwealth, yet notwithstanding, no 
Christian whatever is free from the obedience 
of the commandments which are called moral. 
7. Original sin standeth not in the following 
of Adam, as the Pelagians do vainly talk, but 
it is the corruption of the nature of every 
man that is naturall}' engendered of the oft- 
spring of Adam, wherebj' man is very far 
gone from original righteousness, and of his 
own nature inclined to evil, and that contin- 
uallv. 8. The condition of man alter the 
fall' of Adam is such, that he cannot turn and 
prepare himself by his own natural strength 
and works, to faith and calling upon God ; 
^vherefore we have no power to do good 
works, pleasant and acceptable to God, with- 
out the grace of God by Christ jire venting 
us, that we may have a good will, and work- 
ing with us when we have that good will. 
1). We are accounted riiihteous before God, 
oidy for the merit of our Lord and Saviour 
.lesus Christ by fa th, and not for our own 
works or deservings ; wherefore, that we are 
justified by fiiih only, is a most wholesome 
diiclriue and very full of comfort. 10. Al- 
tliouglt good works which are the fruits of 
faith, and follow after justification, cannot 
put aflay our sins, and endure the severity 
of God's judgments, jet are they pleasing 
and acceptable to God in Christ, and spring 
out of a true and liveh' faith, insomuch that 
by them a lively faith may be as evidently 
known as a tree is discerned by its fruit. 
11. Voluntary works, beside, over and above 
God's commandments, cannot be taught with- 
out arrogance and impiety. For by them 
men do declare that they do not only render 
to God as much as they are bound to do, but 
they do n.o.-c lor his sake ihau of bounden 



HISTORr AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



525 



duty is re(iuire(l ; whereas Christ saith plain- 
ly : When ye have done all that is com- 
manded you, say, We are unprotitable serv- 
ants. 1 2. Not every sin willingly committed 
after justification is the sin against the Holy 
Ghost and unpardonable. Wherefore the 
grant of repentance is not to be denied to 
such as fall into sin after justification ; after 
we have received the Holy Ghost we may 
fall into sin, and by the grace of God rise 
again and amend ourselves. And therefore 
they are to be condemned who say they can 
no more sin as long as they live here, or deny 
the place of forgiveness to such as tndy re- 
pent. 

13. The visible Church of Christ is a con- 
gregation of faithful men, in which the pure 
Word of God is preached, and the sacra- 
ments duly administered according to Christ's 
ordinance in all those things that of necessity 
are requisite to the same. 

14. The Romish doctrine concerning pur 
gatory, pardon, worshipping and adoration as 
well of images as of relics, and also invoca- 
tion of saints, is a fond thing vainly invented 
and grounded upon no warrant of Scripture, 
but repugnant to the Word of God. 

15. It is a thing plainly repugnant to the 
Word of God, and the custom of the primitive 
church, to have public prayers in the church, 
or to administer the sacraments, in a tongue 
not understood by the people. 

16. Sacraments ordained of Christ are 
not only badges or tokens of Christian men's 
profession, but, rather, they are certain signs 
of grace, and God's good will toward us, by 
the which he doth work invisibly in us, and 
doth not only quicken, but also strengthen 
and confirm our faith in him. Tiiere are 
two sacraments ordained of Christ our Lord 
in the gosjiel ; that is to say, baptism and 
the supper of the Lord. Those five com- 
monly called sacraments : that is to say, con- 
firmation, penance, orders, matrimony, and 
extreme unction, cannot be counted for sac- 
raments of the gospel, being such as have 
partly grown out of the corrupt following of 
the apostles, and partly are states of life al- 
lowed in the Scriptures, but yet have not 
the like nature of baptism and the Lord's 
supper, because they have not any visible 
sign or ceremony ordained of God. The 
sacraments were not ordained of Christ to be 
gazed upon, or to be carried about ; but that 
we should duly use them. And in such only 
as worthily receive the same, they have a 
wholesome elTect or operation ; but they that 



receive them unworthily, purchase to them- 
selves condemnation, as St. Paul saith, 1 
Cor. xi : 29. 

17. Baptism is not only a sign of profes- 
sion, and mark of difference, whereby Chris- 
tians are distinguished from others that are 
not baptized, but it is also a sign of regen- 
eration, or the new birth. The baptism of 
young children is to be retained in the Church. 

18. The supper of the Lord is not only 
a sign of the love that Christians ought to 
have among themselves one to the other, but 
rather is a sacrament of our redemption by 
Christ's death ; insomuch that to such as 
rightly, worthily, and with faith receive the 
same, the broad which we break is the par- 
taking of the body of Christ, and the wine 
which we drink is a partaking of the blood 
of Christ. Transubstantiation, or the change 
of the substance of the bread and wine in the 
supper of the Lord cannot be proved by Holy 
Writ, but is repugnant to the plain words 
of Scripture, overthroweth the nature of a 
sacrament, and hath given occasion to many 
superstitions. The bod}' of Christ is given 
and taken in the supper, cnly after a heavenly 
and spiritual manner ; and the means where- 
by the body of Christ is received and taken 
in the supper, is faith. The sacrament of 
the Lord's supper was not by Christ's ordin- 
ance reserved, carried about, lifted up, or 
worshipped. 

19. The cup of the Lord is not to be de- 
nied to the lay people, for both the parts of 
the Lord's supper, by Christ's ordinance and 
commandment, ought to be administered to 
all Christians ahke. 

20. The offering of Christ, once made, is 
that perfect redemption, propitiation and sat- 
isfaction for all the sins of the whole world, 
both original and actual, and there is none 
other satisfaction for sin but that alone. 
Wherefore the sacrifice of masses, in the 
which it is commonly said that the priest doth 
offer Christ for the cjuick and the dead, to 
have remission of pain or guilt, is a blasphe- 
mous fable and dangerous deceit. 

21. The ministers of Christ are not com- 
manded by God's law either to vow the state 
of single life, or to abstain from marriage ; 
therefore it is lawful for them, as for all other 
Christians, to marry at their own discretion, 
as they shall judge the same to serve best 
to godliness. 

22. It is not necessary that rites and cere- 
monies should in all places be the same, or 
exactly alike, for they have been always dif- 



52G 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



ferent, and may be changed according to the 
diversity of countries, times, and men's man- 
ners, so that nothing be ordained against 
God's Word. Whosoever, through his pri- 
vate judgment, wilhngly and purposely doth 
openly break the rites and ceremonies of the 
church to which he belongs wliicli are not 
repugnant to the Word of God, and are or- 
dained and approved by common authority, 
ought to be rebuked openly, that others may 
fear to do the like, as one that otfendeth 
against the common order of the church, and 
woundeth the consciences of weak brethren. 
Every particular church may ordain, change 
or abolish rites and ceremonies, so that all 
things may be done to edification. 

23. The president, tlie Congress, the Gen- 
eral Assemblies, the Governor, the Councils 
of State, as the delegates of the people, are 
the rulers of the United States of America, 
according to the division of power made to 
them by the Constitution of the United States, 
and by the constitutions of their respective 
states. And the said states are a sovereign 
and independent nation and ought not to be 
subject to any foreign jurisdiction. 

24. The riches and goods of Christians 
are not common, as touching the right, title, 
and possession of the same, as some do falsely 
boast. Notwithstanding, every man ought, 
of such things as he possesseth, liberally to 
give alms to the poor, according to his ability. 

25. As we confess that vain and rash 
swearing is forbidden Christian men, by 
our Lord Jesus Christ, and James his apos- 
tle, so we judge that the Christian religion 
doth not prohibit, but that a man may swear 
wlien the magistrate requircth, in a cause of 
faith and cliarit)', so it be done according to 
the prophet's teaching, ' in justice, judgment, 
and truth.' " 

It is proper to notice that as the Metho- 
dist church, founded by Wesley, was really 
an offshoot from the Church of England, 
much of the })hraseology of these articles is 
taken from the doctrinal standards of that 
Church. 

The legislative power of the church resides 
in its General Conference, which meets every 
four years, and to which the 72 annual con- 
ferences are subject. This General Confer- 
ence has hitherto been composed of clerical 
delegates appointed by the several Annual 
Conferences. The General Conference of 
1872 will, however, have a proportion of lay 
delegates, as do now the Annual Conferences ; 
lay representation having been approved by 



a two-thirds vote of the membership in 1869, 
after having agitated the church more or less 
for forty years, and having been the basis of 
one or two secessions. The General Con- 
ference governs and controls the entire 
Church, but is restricted by its constitution 
on certain points relative to its doctrines, 
polity, and distribution of its funds. 

Thu Annual Conferences consist of all the 
traveling preachers, deacons, and presiding 
elders of a certain portion of country, usually 
comprising several districts, each under the 
charge of a presiding elder. There are now 
also admitted to these conferences delega- 
tions of the laity equal in number to the 
clerical representation. Each conference is 
presided over by a bishop. The main busi- 
ness transacted at these conferences is the 
admission and ordination of preachers ; an 
examination of the character and official ad- 
ministration of the ministers belonging to 
the Conference ; a review of the missionary, 
educational, and publishing interests ; the 
apportionment of the Conference funds to 
inlirm and superannuated preachers, and to 
the widows and orphans of such within the 
Conference ; and the assignment of the min- 
isters to their several stations and circuits 
for the year ensuing. In each district there, 
is held a (piarterly conference, composed of 
the traveling and local ministers, the exhort- 
ers, stewards, class-leaders, and superintend- 
ants of Sunday Schools. These conferences 
are presided over by the presiding elder of 
the district, and manage the details of local 
interests connected with the stations or cir- 
cuits ; serve as courts of appeal in the trial 
of church members ; grant licenses to preach, 
and recommend suitable candidates for ad- 
mission into the Annual Conference. The 
theory of the itinerancy in the Methodist 
church as defined by Wesley, was, that it 
incited the preachers to a greater measure 
of zeal and enthusiasm as they addressed 
new congregations so often ; that it made 
the congregations or churches more attentive 
to the gospel and less attached to the j)er- 
sons of those who proclaimed it; that by 
this method of distributing the various classes 
of gifts the smaller and poorer locations were 
sure of receiving a share of the best gifts of 
which they would otherwise be deprived ; 
and that, not being influenced by local at- 
tachments, the preachers would be better 
fitted to act as pioneers on the frontiers, 
where, otherwise, they might be less willing 
(o go. In its practical working other ad van- 



HISTORY AND PROGKESS OF TOE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



527 



tages and disadvantages have been developed; 
and while in a new section of country, it 
proves successful and has accomplished great 
good, it is every jear becoming more dis- 
tasteful to the clergymen and churches in 
the more densely populated portions of the 
country. In the cities and larger towns the 
circuit feature has almost entirely disap 
peai-ed ; the ministers are pastors of single 
churches, the only difference being that their 
stay is limited with a smgle church. This 
limit was formerly two years, but the Con- 
ference of 18G8 made it three years. The 
more eloquent and popular preachers, how- 
ever, often manage to evade this limit by 
securing an appointment in the same city in 
some different capacity, which will allow 
them to remain as practical pastors of the 
churches to which they are attached. With 
indolent and half educated ministers it is 
alleged that the itinerancj' encourages idle 
ness, as it renders any considerable study, be- 
yond the preparation of plans of sermons fur 
the lirst year or two years, unnecessary ; but 
the Jlelhodist ministry has buta small jiropor- 
tion of drones. To be eligible to full con- 
neittion in an annual Conference and the 
offi ■& of deacon, a preacher must have trav- 
eleil two years as a probationer and stood 
suitable examinations. He is eligible to 
elders' or ministers' orders after two years 
further service and another examination. 
Preachers — i. e., licensed exhorters and dea- 
cons — are not authorized to baptize or ad- 
minister the Lord's supper. Elders or min- 
isters are ordained by the bisho|)s, and ni;iy 
administer all the ordinances. Stewards are 
persons chosen by the Quarterly Conferences 
to take cliarge of and d.sburse all funds col- 
lected for the poor, the support of the minis- 
try, and sacranientid purposes. Cla- s-leaders 
are appointed by the ministers; their duty 
is to see all the members of their respective 
classes once a week, to learii their spiritual 
condition, and to receive their contributions 
for church purposes. Clashes usually con- 
sist of twelve or more persons. 

The statistics of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, in 1870, were as follows: Bishops 
8; travelling preachers, 9,19 J; local preach- 
ers, 11,404; total preachers, 21,234; mem- 
b'rs in full connection, 1,173,099; members 
on proliatioii, 194,035; total lay members, 
1,307,134; adult baptisms, 60,481; infont 
baptisms, 50,453; toial baptisms, 116,934; 
number of churches, 13 373; number of par- 
sonage ,4,179 ; value of church ediiices, S52,- 



614,591; value of parsonages, $7,293,513; 
number of Sunday schools, 16.912; number 
of Sunday school teachers, 189,412; number 
of Sunday school scholars, 1,221,393 ; amount 
of benevolent collections, (aside from church 
expenses,) $967,862. 

II. The Methodist Episcopal Chukcr, 
South. This body seceded from the " Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church" in 1844, on the 
following grounds : It was well known that 
John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, 
was opposed to slavery, declaring it to be 
'• the sum of all villauies ;" but the Metho- 
dist Episcopal Church having a large mem- 
bership in the Southern states, had gl•o^\^l 
lax on the subject, and as for many years 
there was very little agitation on the ques- 
tion, many slaveholders became members 
and a considerable number ministers of the 
church. In 1»28, one of these latter, known 
to be a slaveholder, was sent as the repre- 
sentative of the Methodist Episcopal Church 
to the British Wesleyan Conference. In 
1810, the General Conference declared by 
formal resolution, that " the mere ownership 
of slave property, in states or territories 
where the laws do not admit of emancipa- 
tion, and permit the liberated slave to enjoy 
freedom, constitutes no legal barrier to the 
election or ordination of ministers to the 
various grades of office known in the ministry 
of the " Methodist Episcopal Church." In 
1841, however, the feeling of opposition to 
slavery began to be renewed in the General 
Conference, which was. held in New York 
City, and proceedings not assuming judicial 
form, and unaccompanied with any regular 
impeachment, were instituted against Rev. 
•James O. Andrew, D. D., who had been one 
of the bishops since 1832, a titizen of Geor- 
gia, who had married a lady possessing many 
slaves. These proceedings, after a protracted 
debate, were terminated by an act passed by 
a majority of the Conference requiring the 
bishop to desist from his functions, on ac- 
count of this connection with slavery. There- 
upon the representatives of thirteen of tho 
thirty-three annual conferences of which the 
church was then composed, (being those em- 
braced in the slaveholding states,) presented 
a declaration which set forth their solemn 
conviction that a continuance of the juris- 
diction of the General Conference over the 
annual conferences thus represented, would 
be inconsistent with the success of the 
Methodist ministry in the slaveholding states, 
The declaration was accompanied by a for. 



528 



JIISTOUT AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



mal protest against the action of the major- 
ity in Bishop Andrew's case, and thus led to 
thw adoption by tlio General Cont'erenee of 
a plan of separation, according to which 
there was contemplated an amicable adjust- 
ment of boundary lines, and a fair division 
of property, should the annual cojiferences 
in the slaveholding states find it necessary 
to unite in an ecclesiastical connection dis- 
tinct from that of the North. The church 
in the South and South-west, in primarj' as- 
semblies, and in quarterly and annual con- 
ferences, sustained the declaration of the 
delegates, and measures were immediately 
adopted for the assembling of a convention. 
This was held in May, 1845, at Louisville, 
Ky. Acting under the provisions of the 
plan of sei)aration, and in pursuance of the 
formal instructions of the annual conferences, 
the convention dissolved the jurisdiction of 
the General Conference over the conferences 
there represented, and created a separate 
ecclesiastical connection under the title of 
" The ftlethodist- Episcopal Church, South." 
The first General Conference of this organ- 
ization was held at Petersburg, Va., in l84(5. 
There was some difficulty in arranging all 
the details for the separation, and owing to 
the repudiation of the plan of separation 
by the General Conference of the '• Metho- 
dist Episcopal Church" in 1848, the division 
of the property of the Book concern, pro 
rata, was only accomplished after a lawsuit 
in 1853. In 1845 the statistics of the 
Jlethodist Episcopal Church, South, were : 5 
bishops, 13 annual conferences, 1,384 trav- 
eling preachers, 90 superannuated jircachers, 
2,550 local preachers, 330,710 white mem- 
bers, 124,811 colored members, 2,978 In- 
dians ; total 402,428. This was almost one- 
half of the whole membership of the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Ciuirch before the division. 
In 1859, there were six bishops, 24 annual 
preachers, 1,661 traveling preachers, 5,177 
local preachers, 511,601 white members, 
197,348 colored members, 4,236 Indians; 
total, 721,023. They continued to increase 
until the war, when they lost a large number 
of their colored members, who preferred 
the African organizations, and after the 
emancipation proclamation, and the ratifica- 
tion of the XlVth and XVth amendments 
to the constitution of the United States, the 
basis on which the}- had made their separa- 
tion was removed. The twenty-seven years 
of separate organization have however, made 
them indisposed for a reunion, and they 



repel all overtures looking to such a measure, 
with considerable bitterness. Their doctrinal 
views are identical with those of the '■ Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church," and there is no 
difference in their polity or discipline. They 
have now when the board of bishops is full, 
nine, but 15ishop Andrew having recently 
deceased, there are but eight now acting; 
there are 30 conferences, 2,646 traveling 
and 187 superannuated preachers, 4,753 
local preachers, 540,820 white members, 
19,616 colored members, (only one tenth of 
what they had in 1829,) 3,149 Indians ; a 
total of 571,241. 

Ill, and IV. The two African Meth- 
odist Episcopal Churches. The A. M. 
E. Church proper, and the Zion A. M. E. 
Church may perhaps with propriety be con- 
sidered together, inasmuch as overtures are 
now pending for their consolidation. Both 
profess to be identical in tlieir doctrinal 
views with the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
and their polity and government difl^er but 
slightly. The first has bishops, but permits 
lay representation to a limited extent in its 
General Conference from the ranks of the 
local preachers, and gives in its annual con- 
ferences equal privileges to the traveling and 
local preachers. The Zion Church has no 
bishops, but general superintendents in their 
place, elected every four years. Its Genei'al 
Conference is composed of all the traveling 
ministers in the connection, but no lay dele- 
gation is allowed. An African church se- 
ceded in 1787, under the name of the Bethel 
African M. E. Church, but this was subse- 
quently absorbed into the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church. In 1816, however, some of the 
more eminent of the colored Methodist 
ministers believng that they could be fieer 
and more useftd in a separate communion, 
called a convention in Philadelphia, and 
organized the ''African Methodist Episcopal 
Church. Its growth has been moderate 
but steady until the emancipation proclama- 
tion in 1863, which has led to a great in- 
crease in its membership. It has now ten 
conferences, seven bishops, over 600 travel- 
ing and 1200 local preachers, 586 churches, 
200,000 communicants, over 500 Sunday 
Schools, and more than 1 200 day schools. 
Its adherent population is not less than 600,- 
000. The property of the Church, in schools, 
colleges, and church edifices, exceeds four 
million dollars, It owns Wilberforce Uni- 
versity, near Xenia, Green Co., Ohio, and 
four seminaries of a high class at Baltimore, 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



r,-2c 



J\lil. ; Columbus, Ohio ; Alleghany, and Pitts- 
burgli, Pa. Tiiey have a Book concern at 
Philadelphia, and issue a weekly and a month- 
ly religious periodical. 

The '■'African Methodist Episcopal Zion 
Church" seceded from the Methodist Episco- 
)ial Church in 1820, and held its first annual 
conference in New York, in 1821. Its se- 
cession was in consequence of some differ- 
ences of opinion in regard to church govern- 
ment. Its growth was slow until the war, 
when it shared with the African M. E. 
Church, in the large influx of colored Meth- 
odi-ts previously connected with the church 
soutli. and in a very large accession of new 
converts. Being very much straitened for 
means for the support of their schools and 
churches just after the war, they appealed to 
Congregationalists, to Unitarians, and to 
Friends for assistance, and received a consid- 
erable amount from each. They had ex- 
pected to consummate a union with the 
African M. E. Church in 1868, but from 
some cause the union has been delayed, but 
will probably be completed in 1872. They 
have six general superintendents (answering 
to bishops, but elected for four years), 694 
traveling and about 1300 local preachers, 
nearly 700 churches, and about 164,000 
members. 

V. The Evangelical Association, 
called also Albright Methodists, from the 
n ime of their founder, is an ecclesiastical 
body of great energy and activity, which 
took its rise in Eastern Pennsylvania, about 
] T'.tO, from the labors of Rev. Jacob Albright, 
a German Methodist minister, who sought 
to jiromote a religious reform among the 
Germans of that region. It was not organ- 
ized as a chui-ch till about 1800, when Mr. 
Albright was unanimously elected and or- 
dained as their pastor and bishop. 

Sixteen years later they had become so 
numerous as to organize a general confer- 
ence. For the first thirty years of their 
existence, the Evangelical Association met 
with violent opposition, but since 1830 it has 
made rapid progress. In doctrines and 
tlieology the association is substantially one 
with the Methodist Episcopal Church ; and 
its mode of worship and usages are essen- 
tially methodistic; in its church government 
it has a General Conference meeting every 
lour years, and constituting its highest legis- 
lative and judicial authority. The General 
Conference elects its bishops for four years ; 
they may be re-elected, but if not, hold no 
32* 



higher rank or privilege than an elder after 
their term of service is expired. The annual 
conferences elect their presiding elders for 
the same term, and these return to the itin- 
erancy at the expiration of their term of 
service. There are also quarterly confer- 
ences, in which a lay delegation is allowed, 
but not in the Annual or General Confer- 
ences. The statistics of the " Evangelical 
Association" in 1869 were as follows: Two 
bishops, fourteen annual conferences, 798 
churches, 500 itinerant, and 377 local preach- 
ers, 65,691 members, 863 Sunday Schools, 
with 45,175 scholars, 153 mission stations 
in America, and Europe ; a full complement 
of Missionary, Sunday School, Tract, and 
Charitable societies, a publishing house at 
Cleveland ; four periodicals, a college, an 
oi-phan institution, several seminaries, 207 
parsonages, and church property to the value 
of about $2,000,000. 

VI. The " Methodist Protestant 
Church," an organization which was form- 
ed of seceders from the " Methodist Episco- 
pal Church" in 1830, the secession being 
based on the grounds of dissatisfaction with 
the Episcopate, and the refusal of lay repre- 
sentation. In doctrinal ^iews, they accejjt 
the standards of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, but have no bishops. Their gene- 
ral conference, which meets once in seven 
3-cars, and is composed of one ministerial and 
one lay delegate for every thousand commu- 
nicants, is the governing body ; and in the 
interim of its sessions, its president and the 
officers of the diiferent committees and soci- 
eties created by it, exercise administrative 
authority to a limited extent. The annual 
conferences, composed of ministers only, 
elect their own presidents, and possess au- 
thority within their own bounds. Its quar- 
terly conferences, exhorters, class-leaders, 
stewards, etc., are copied after the Methodist 
Episcopal pattern. The church had in 1870 
423 itinerant, and about 860 local preachers, 
nearly 900 churches, and about 72,000 com- 
municants. It does not seem to be growing, 
for its statistics in 1858 were considerably 
larger than these figures. It has seven col- 
legiate institutions, three of them for females; 
two other literary institutions ; small book 
concerns at Baltimore, Md., and Springfield, 
Ohio, and four periotlicals. 

VII. "The Methodist Chukch," is an- 
other branch of the Methodist family, of 
which we only know that it reported in 1870 
624 preachers, and 49,030 members. Its 



530 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



doctrines are probably not different from 
those of the other Methodist bodies ; it has, 
we believe, no bishops. 

VIII. "The Wkslf.tan Methodist 
Connection of America," was organized 
ill 1843, and composed mainly of seceders 
from the " Methodist Episcopal Church." 
The seceders were strongly opposed to slav- 
ery, and desirous of having the church purg- 
ed from it; they were also ardent temper- 
ance men, and hostile to all traffic in intoxi- 
cating liquors as a beverage. The " Metho- 
dist Episcopal Church," which subsequently 
took advanced grounds on both these sub- 
jects, was not at this time willing to do so, 
and disciplined its members who urged it. 
The consequence was the organization of the 
Wesleyan Methodist Connection of Amer- 
ica, at Utica, May 31, 1843. Their doc- 
trines are the same with those of the Metho- 
dist Episcopal Church, except two rules of 
morality, one excluding from church mem- 
bership and Christian fellowship all who 
buy or sell men, women, or children, with 
intent to enslave, or hold them as slaves, or 
claim that it is right to do so ; and the other, 
excluding from memliership or fellowship 
all who manufacture, buy, sell, or use intox- 
icating liquors, or in any way, intentionally 
and knowingly, aid others so to do, except 
for mechanical, chemical, or medicinal pur- 
poses. In its church government, the Wes- 
leyan Connection is democratic, holding to 
complete ministerial equality and the power 
of each church to act for itself. They lia\e 
an equal representation of ministers and lay- 
men in their general conference, and these 
are elected by the annual conferences which 
are composed of all the ministers and an 
equal number of laymen in their several 
geographical bounds. They do not seem to 
have increased since the war, numbering 
onlv 2.'iO ministers, and about 20,(100 com- 
municants in 1870, against 300 ministers, 
and 2(t,0(iO members in 1858. They have 
two collegiate institutions, one at St. Louis, 
Jackson Co., Mich., the other — the Illinois 
Institute — at AVheaton, Du Page Co., Illin- 
ois. They have also one newspaper, "77ie 
True Wrsleyan." 

IX. The Free JIetiiodists .are the lat- 
est seceders from the Methoilist Episcopal 
Church. They profess to have left it on the 
ground of its increasing formalism and con- 
formity to worldly customs and fashions in 
dress, .and in the construction, adornment, 
and music of the churches. Tliev advocate 



a return to the early plainness of costume, 
the avoidance of all ornaments and jewelry^, 
and the simplicity and bareness of architect- 
ure which characterized the early Metho- 
dists and their houses of worship. With 
this they also desire to restore the ancient 
zeal, fervor, and earnestness of the immedi- 
ate followers of Wesley and his successors. 
They number about one hundred ministers, 
and perhaps 7,000 communicants, and have a 
newspaper — 77te Free Methodist — edited 
with a good deal of zeal and spirit. 

X. The Primitive Methodist Church 
is a branch of the church of the same name 
in Great Britain, but has not attained to any 
very considerable numbers here ; its mem- 
bers being mostly immigrants who had been 
connected with it before migrating to this 
country. In England it originated in 1807, 
in a secession from the Wesleyans, on 
grounds of polity ; the seceders desiring to 
maintain camp meetings, house to house vis- 
itation and religious outdoor services, and 
the employment of female preachers to some 
extent, with a view to reach the lower and 
more depraved classes, and the Wesleyans 
declining to sanction any such movements. 
The Primitive Methodists, like the Free 
IMethodists, are very zealous and earnest. 
Their doctrines do not differ from those of 
Wesley ; but in church government they are 
democratic, having no bishops, and in their 
conferences, have two lay delegates for every 
minister. They number in the United States 
about 20 itinerant, and 35 or 40 local 
preachers, nearly 40 churches, and a mem- 
bership of .about 2,200. 

XI. The Welsh Calvinistic Method- 
ists are not a numerous body in the United 
States, and are only Methodists in their 
church }H)lity and government, their doc- 
trinal views being more Calvinistic than 
Anninian, and assimilating in this respect to 
the Congregationalists, or to the Calvinistic 
portion of the clerg}' of the Church of Eng- 
land. They were in England an outgrowth 
of the labors of Whitfield and his successors. 
Indirectly, they were also a result of the 
organization of Lady Huntingdon's Connex- 
ion, with which their dt)ctrinal views fully 
corresponded. In the United States they 
are found principallj' among the Welsh, and 
some efforts to organize other churches, as 
Congregational Methodists, i. e., with Cal- 
vinistic doctrines, and Methodist polity and 
government, have ]iroved failures, tha 
churches either becoming wholly Congrega- 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF TBE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



531 



tioiuil, or joining some of the Methodist 
sects. The Welsh Calvinistic Methodists 
munber probably not more than 3,000 com- 
miaiicants. 

XII. United Brethren in Christ, or 
Gi'.KMAN Mkthodists. This denomination, 
though not properly Methodists in name, are 
yet so far in unison with them in doctrines 
and polity, that they come more appropri- 
ately under the classification of Methodists 
than any other. The '• United Brethren in 
Christ" owe their origin to the labors of 
Philip James Otterbein, a native of Dillen- 
burg, Germany, born June 4, 1726, and or- 
dained to the ministry of the German Re- 
form 'd Church, at Ilerborn, Germany, in 
17-iy. He was sent to America as a mis- 
sionary by the Synod of Holland in 17J2, 
and settled at Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Not 
long after his arrival he became convinced 
that he was a stranger to vital godliness, and 
ere long experienced, as he believed, a 
change of heart. He very soon began to 
niaiiife>t his zeal by instituting meetings dur- 
ing the week for prayer and religious con- 
ference, and finding that the region round 
about was in a condition of great spiritual 
destitution he made long preaching tours, 
and held what were called "great meetings " 
in barns and groyes throughout that region, 
liis labors being attended with great success. 
Persons who had experienced a change of 
lieart, whatever their ecclesiastical relations, 
were invited to take a part in these meet- 
ings, and among those who accepted the in- 
vitation was Martin Boehm, a Mennonite 
preacher of great zeal and earnestness. At 
llie close of one of Boehm's most effective 
sermons Otterbein rose, and embracing him 
exclaimed : " We are brethren !" The name 
(if United Brethren in Christ was adopted 
by their followers from this time. Otterbein 
and Boehm labored together for more than 
fifty years ; and what at first seemed a revival 
in the different churches gradually became 
agglomerated into a distinct denomination, 
with its hundreds of preachers, called for the 
most part from the working classes, and ex 
ereising their gifts at first as lay preachers 
and subsequently licensed and ordained by 
the leaders or by some of those whom they 
liad set ajiart for the ministry. At Otter- 
bein's death, in 1813, the "Brethren" were 
already a large and infiuential body ; they 
have since increased with considerable rapid- 
ity, and ado])ting the Methodist polity of 
(juarterly, annual, and general Conferences, 



itinerants, bishops, and presiding elders, they 
have come to be a well organized and effi- 
cient body. Their first organization as dis- 
tinct churches date<, we believe, from 1774. 
In their theological views they are Armi- 
nians, agreeing very nearly with the Wes- 
leyan Methodists, in England, and the Meth- 
oilist Episcopal Church in the United States. 
On a few points only are they peculiar. In 
common with most of the evangelical churches 
they require evidence of a change of heart 
as indispensable to membership, but they 
]irohibit membership to slaveholders, to ad- 
hering members of any secret society or or- 
ganization, and to those who manufacture, 
sell, or drink intoxicating liquors. Baptism 
is administered either by pouring, sprinkling, 
or immersion, as the candidate may prefer ; 
infants are baptized when desired. Open 
communion is practised and the ordinance 
of foot-washing, as observed by several of 
the minor German sects, is optional, some of 
the churches observing it, while others do 
not. For the first fifty years of their history 
their ministers confined their labors almost 
exclusively to the German-speaking popida- 
tion, but now they have as many English as 
German churches. Their statistics in 1870 
were as follows : thirty-eight annual confer- 
ences, one general conference, four bishops 
who are elected for four years, and may be 
re-elected, about 900 itinerant and over 800 
local preachers ; 3,924 organized societies ; 
1,473 church edifices, with 483,099 settings; 
118,055 members; 2,420 Sunday schools, 
with 10,417 teachers and 112,426 scholars; 
collections for church purposes, 580,288 ; 
value of church property, $2,506,600. They 
have at Dayton, Ohio, an extensive publish- 
ing establishment which issues numerous 
books, and beside an annual almanac or year 
book, five periodicals ; a German and an 
English weekly religious newspaper, a month- 
ly German, and a semi-monthly English, 
child's paper, and a missionary periodical iu 
English, semi-monthly. They have six col- 
leges; Otterbein University at Westville, 
Ohio ; Hartsville University, at Hartsville, 
Ind. ; "SVestfield College, at Westfield, 111. ; 
Lebanon Valley College, Annville, Pa. ; 
Lane University, Lecompton, Kan. ; and 
Western College, Western Iowa. Sublimity 
College, Oregon, has passed out of their 
hands for want of adequate funds for build- 
ings and endowment. They have also three 
or four female seminaries and collegiate 
schools 



532 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



V. CONGKEGATIONALISTS. 

In its broadest sense tlie name CoN- 
GREGATiONAl.isT IS applicable to all the de- 
nominations which hold to tlie independence 
of each chuiuii and to the democratic form 
of church g(jverniuent and polity. In this 
sense the Regular Baptists, and, indeed, al- 
most all the denominations which we have 
ranged under the general head of " Baptists" 
as well as the Friends, the Unitarians, and 
tJie Universalists, are as truly Congregation- 
alists as the churches distinctively known by 
that name. In common usage, however, the 
name is applied almost exclusively to those 
churches which are Augustinian and Cal- 
vinistic in doctrine, Trinitarian in belief, and 
Pa;do-baptist in practice ; and who holding 
these views unite with them a democratic 
church polity, the independence of each 
church, and a fellowship and inter-communion 
with all churches holding like views. 

Wliile there were undoubtedly isolated 
congregations in England in the sixteenth 
century, which maintained substantially con- 
gregational views and organization. Rev. 
John Robinson, first of Scrooby, Nottingham- 
shire, England, and afterwards of Leyden, 
Holland, is generally regarded as the father 
of Congregationalism. His church was or- 
ganized in 1606, and removed almost bodily 
to Holland in 1 008 in consequence of perse- 
cution- After a pastorate of about twelve 
years in Amsterdam and Leyden, a majority 
of the church, under Ekler William Brews- 
ter, determined to emigrate to America, and 
after many j^erils and troubles, landed at 
Plymouth, Massachusetts, Dec. 21, 1620, 
having previously organized as an independ- 
ent clr. h and as a civil community. Others 
followed soon after, and Robinson liiraself 
intended to come, but died just as he was 
about to sail. The colonists of Massachu- 
setts Bay were at first Non-conformists, but 
they presently adopted the Congregational 
Order. In JIassachusetts and Connecticut, 
as well as in the then province of Maine, and 
the colonies of New Hampshire and Ver- 
mont, at a later period, the Congregational- 
ists were the dominant sect or denomination, 
and in the two former colonies and subse- 
quent states, retained a somewhat peculiar 
connection with the state, which, though mod- 
ified, was not wiioUy abrogated in Connecti- 
cut till 1818, and in Massachusetts in 1833. 
Every householder, or person liable to pay 
taxes, was regarded as primarily subject to 
a tax for the support of religious worship in 



the Congregational church, or, as it was 
tisually called " the standing order ;" and 
this liability, if he possessed property, could 
oidy be avoided by his " signing off," or 
avowing himself a tax-payer for the support 
of some other of the tolerated denominations. 
At first even this was not permitted, except 
in the case of members of the Church of 
England, but gradually more liberal views 
prevailed. This compulsory taxation was 
abrogated in Connecticut by the constitution 
of 1818, and in Massachusetts by a constitu- 
tional amendment, in 1833. In 1770, the 
number of communicants in the Congrega- 
tional churches of the thirteen colonies was 
about 112,000, almost all of whom were in 
New England, though two or three churches 
were planted about that time in Georgia and 
South Carolina. In 1801, a Plan of Union 
was agreeil upon between the Presbyterian 
Church and the General Association (of 
Congregationalists) of Connecticut, which, at 
that time was an active missionary body. 
This plan of Union provided that in any new 
place where there were members of Congre- 
gational and Presbyterian cluirches, to avoid 
the establishment of weak and feeble church- 
es, the members of the two denominations 
should unite to form a church which should 
be either Presbyterian or Congregational as 
the majority of^ its members might decide, 
and if Congregational, that it should still 
have a qualified right of representation in 
the Presbytery. Under this arrangement, 
which continued in full force till 1837, and 
was not completely abrogated tjH 1852, the 
greater part of the advantages enured to the 
Presbyterians, very feW Congregational 
churches being organized in the middle and 
western states, and a considerable portion 
even of these, under the arrangement for 
representation in the Presbyteries, gradually 
becoming Presbyterian. It resulted from 
this liberality, that while there were nearly 
a hundred thousand former members of Con- 
gregational churches who had contributed to 
swell the numbers of the Presbyterian and 
Reformed churches, the actual munber of 
communicants in Congregational churches in 
the entire country, in 1850, at the expiration 
of eighty years from 1770, did not much ex- 
ceed 200,000. There had been in this inter- 
val, it is true, a very considerable loss in 
Massachusetts (mostly from 1810 to 1830) 
by the fiilling away of the Unitarians. This 
had probably caused a diminution of fifteen 
to ciKhteeu thousand members. But soon 



Ea 




HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



533 



afttr 1.S4I) tliere was a spirit of greater ac- 
tivity and aixgie^sive action roused in the 
Congregational churches. This found ex- 
pression, in 1852, in the National Congrega- 
tional Convention, a sort of General Synod 
or Council, which met at Albany. This 
Convention initiated measures for greater 
denominational missionary activity, advised 
the raising of a fund of SIOO.OOO to aid in the 
erection of Congregational churches in the 
new states and territories, and largely in- 
creased efforts for the extension of Congre- 
gationalism as a denominational organization. 
As a result of this Convention and the spirit 
which prompted it, the growth of the denom- 
ination has been rapid and healthy in the 
western states and territories, and during 
the recent war and since, it has proved itself 
possessed of great energy and ability in pro- 
pagating Christianity iu its simpler forms 
throughout the country. The Presbyterians 
and the Reformed (Dutch) Church had for- 
merly been associated with the Congrega- 
tionalists in both Home and Foreign Mis- 
sionary enterprises, but the Old School 
branch of the Presbyterians withdrew from 
both about 1837; the Keformed, in 1857; 
and the New School branch of the Presby- 
terians partially from the Home Missionary 
Society in 1853 or 1854, and wholly in 1865, 
and from the American Missionary Associa- 
tion about the same time ; and at the re- 
union of the two branches of the Presbyte- 
rian church in 1870, the New School mem- 
bers withdrew a'so from the American Board 
of Commissioners of Foreign Missions, tak- 
ing with them three or four of the Missions. 
The Congregationalists have, however, man- 
fully taken the entire burden on their own 
shoulders, and are maintaining these organ- 
izations ill their full vigor. In 1865, an- 
other General Synod, or National Council, 
was held in Boston, which has resulted in a 
further development of denominational as 
well as of Christian activity. This CouncU 
adopted a Declaration of Faith, the first au- 
thoritative exposition of their views of doc- 
trine and liolity, which had had the full sanc- 
tion of the denomination ; though earlier 
General Synods — those of Cambridge in 
1637 and 1046 — and the partial one of Say- 
brook in 1708, had adopted in general terms, 
and for substance of doctrine, the Westmins- 
ter and Savoy Confessions of Faith, and the 
" Cambridge Platform," and the " Saybrook 
Platform " of polity and discipline. 

This '• Declaration of Faith" adopted in 



18G5, on Burial Hill, Plymouth, Mass., is as 
follows : 

" Standing by the rock where the Pilgrims 
set foot upon these shores, upon the spot 
where they worshipped God, and aniong the 
graves of the early generations, we, elders 
and messengers of the Congregational church- 
es of the United States in National Council 
assembled, like them acknowledging no rule 
of faitK but the Word of God, do now declare 
our adherence to the faith and order of the 
apostolic and primitive churches held by our 
fathers, and substantially as embodied in the 
confessions and platforms which our synods 
of 1648 and 1680 set forth or re-affirmed. 
We declare that the experience of the nearly 
two and a half centuries which have elapsed 
since the memorable day when our sires 
fomided here a Christian commonwealth, with 
all the development of new forms of error 
since their times, has only deepened our con- 
fidence in the faith and polity of those fathers. 
W^e bless God for the inheritance of these 
doctrines. We invoke the help of the Divine 
Redeemer, that through the presence of the 
promised Comforter he will enable us to 
transmit them in jiurity to our children. 

" In the times that are before us as a na- 
tion, times at once of duty and danger, we 
rest all our hope in the Gospel of the Sun 
of God. It was the grand peculiarity of our 
Puritan fathers, that they held this Gospel, 
not merely as the ground of their personal 
salvation, but as declaring the worth of man 
by the incarnation and sacrifice of the Son 
of God ; and therefore applied its principles 
to elevate society, to regulate education, to 
civilize humanity, to purify law, to reform 
the church and the state, and to assert and de- 
fend liberty ; in short, to mould and redeem, 
by its all-transforming energy, everything 
which belongs to man in his individual and 
social relations. 

" It was the faith of our fathers that gave 
us this free land in which we dwell. It is 
by this faith only that we can transmit to our 
children a free and happy, because a Chris- 
tian, commonwealth. 

" We hold it to be a distinctive excellence 
of our Congregational system, that it exalts 
that which is more, above that which is less 
important, and by the simplicity of its organ- 
ization facilities, in communities where the 
population is limited, the union of all true 
believers in one Christian church ; and that 
the division of such communities into several 
weak and jealous societies, holding the same 



534 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



common faith, is a sin asrainst llie unity of 
the body of Christ, and at once the shame 
and scandal of Ciiristendom. 

"We rejoice tliat tiirounii the influence of 
our free system of apostolic order, we can 
hold fellowshi|) with all who acknowledge 
Christ and act efficiently in tiie work of re- 
stcrina; unity to the divided church, and 
bringing back harmony and peace among all 
who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity. 

" Tlius recognizing the unity of the Church 
of Cliri t in the vvorlil, and knowing that we 
are bm one branch of Christ's people, whib' 
adhering to our peculiar faith and order, we 
extend to all believers the hand of Christian 
fellowsh p upon the basis of tiiose great fun- 
damental truths in which all Christian-; should 
agree. With tln-m we cimfess our faith in 
God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Ghost, the only living and true God; in 
Jesus Christ, the incarnate Word, who is ex- 
alted to be our Redeemer and King; and in 
the Holy Comforter, who is present in the 
Church to regenerate and sanctify the soul. 

" With the whole Church, we confess the 
common sinfulness an<l ruin of our race, and 
acknowledge tiiat it is only through tiie work 
accomplished by the life and expiatory death 
c. Cinist, that believers in him are jusiified 
before God, receive the remission of sms, 
and through the pre-ence and grace of the 
Holy Comforter, are delivered from the jiow- 
er of sin .and {)erfected in iRillness. 

" We believe, also, in tlie organized and 
visible Church, in the mini-try of the Word, 
m the sacraments of Ba|itisni and the Lord's 
Supper, in the resurrection of the body, and 
in tlie final judgment, the issues of which are 
eternal life, and everlasting jiunishment. 

"We receive these truths on tlie testi- 
mony of God, given through prophets and 
apostles, and in the life, the miracles, the 
death, the resurrection of II is Son, our Di- 
vine Hedeemer, — a testimony prest'rved for 
the Ciunch in the Scriptures of the Old and 
New Testaments, which were composed by 
holy men as they were moved by the Holy 
Ghost. 

"Affirming now our belief that those who 
thus hold ' one faith, one Lord, one baptism,' 
together constitute the one Catholic Church, 
fne several households of which, though call 
ed by different names, are the one body of 
Christ, and that these members of His body 
are sacredly bound to keep ' the unity of the 
Spirit in the bonds of peace,' we declare that 
we Viill cooperate with all who hold these 



truths. With them we will carry the Gos- 
pel into every part of this land, and with 
them we will go into all the world and 
'preach the Gospel to every creature.' Muy 
He to whom 'all power is given in Heaven 
and earth,' fulfil the promise which is all our 
hope : ' Lo, I am with you alway, even to 
the end of the world.' Amen." 

As we have already said, the Congrega- 
tionalists are Pwdobaptists, though infant 
baptism is far from being as universal with 
them as it w.is formerly. Baptized children 
are not admitted to full membership in the 
church, except on evidence of conversion, 
and a profession of their faith in Christ. 
The u-ual mode of baptism is by affusion or 
sprinkling, but most of their clergymen ad- 
minister the ordinance by pouring, or by im- 
mersion, if the candidate has a distinct pref- 
erence for either of those modes. They rec- 
ognize the minister, elder, presbyter, or bish- 
op ( holding these titles as synonymous) as 
the only clerical officer of the church. The 
deacons, though set apart by ordination in 
some of the churches, have no more author- 
ity than any other layman. An executire, 
or prudential, or standing committee (tiiey 
are called by these different names in difl'er- 
ent churches) assist the jiastur in examining 
candidates for membership, and those recom- 
mended by them are propounded for mem., 
bersliip, and if no exception is taken they arc 
received after a delay of one or two weeks. 
Pastors are called by the churches which de- 
sire their services, and usually also by the 
ecclesiastical society, the corporation known 
in law as holding and controlling the church 
property, and which is usually composed of 
members of the church ; but the pastor is 
not considered as in the fellowship of the 
Congregational churches adjacent, until he 
has been examined, and ordained or installed 
by a council composed of the pastors and 
lay delegates from other churches. A church 
may be organized by a band of believers 

! coming together voluntarily and agreeing to 
form themselves into a church, but in order 
to its recognition as in fellowship with other 
churches of the same faith, a council must be 
called to examine into the need of it, its ma- 
terial, and its doctrines. 

Candidates for the ministry are examined 

[ carefully in regard- to their religious experi- 
ence, doctrinal views, knowledge of Scrip- 

: tural learning, and general fitness. Usually 
a collegiate education, or its equivalent, is 

I required. The church is practically the 



HISTORY AND PROGUHSS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



535 



hi;;lie^t autliority in regard to matters of dis- 
cipl ne, but in important cases at the request 
of the party under disciphne, a mutual, or if 
the <-iuirch refuse, an ex-parte council of pas- 
tors and delegates of nein;hboring churclies, 
is called, whch investigates the ca-e, and 
communicates the '-results" at which it 
arrive-i, to the parties. These councils pos- 
sess, however, only advisory powers, but 
their advice is usually accepted. 

The Congregation ilists have now churches 
in 37 of the states and territorie-i, and w'lile 
their large--t membership is still in New 
England, in most of the states of that section 
it benig ihe largest denomination, yet they 
have very considerable streng h in Illinois, 
Michigan, Iowa, \Yi=eousin, Ohio, and iSew 
York. 

Their statistics at the close of 1870, were: 
Churches 3,121 ; Ministers 3,194 ; Members 
3itG.olS; teachers and pupils in Sabbath 
Schools 361,463; gain over the previous 
year, ehnrches 78; members 6,156; mem- 
bers of Sabbath Schools 4.963; ministers 
exclusive of foreign missionaries 30. Of the 
ministers, U28 are reported as not engaged in 
pastoral work, ©f their contributions to ben- 
evolent purposes, it is impossible to s[)e:ik def- 
initely, as ihey are in the Bi^ile Society, the 
American Tract Societies, and have been, un- 
til the present year, in the American Board, 
and the American and Foreign Christian 
Union, associated with other denominations. 
Their contributions to the several benevolent 
objects, aside from contributions for home 
clinrch pui'poses, and from endowments 
made to collegiate or Theological institutions 
or asylums, &c., must have exceeded S2,- 
OOO.OvjU. For home piu'poses they were not 
less than $1,500,0(10 more. 

The denomination have six theological 
seminaries, which had, in 1870, twenty-eight 
professors, and 30.5 students. These were 
located at Bangor, Maine; .\ndover, Mass. ; 
Hartford, and New Haven, Conn.; Oberlin, 
Ohio ; and Chicago, 111. There were also 
eighteen colleges, having an aggregate of 
more than 5.000 students, in which, though 
not exclusively denominational, the Congre- 
gaiionalists have a controlling influence. 
Aside from these, there are eighteen incorp- 
orated and endowed academies, and female 
seminaries, besides numerous private semin- 
aries and academies, directly imder the con- 
trol of the denomination. 

There are seventeen periodicals, weekly, 
semi-monthly, monthly, and quarterly, which 



are recognized as distinctively Congregation- 
alist. 

The only other denominations not already 
noticed, which are Congregational in their 
polity, but not in their doctrine, are the Uni- 
tarians, and UNivEiiSA LISTS, both of which 
will be treated under their respective titles. 



VI. THE PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL . 

CHURCH I>J THE UNITED STATES, 
sometimes called by a section of its mem- 
bers, the Anglican or Anglo-Catholic 
CnuiiCH. 

This denomination was, in its origin in the 
United States, a part of the Church of Eng- 
land, and its clergymen received ordination 
at the hands of the Bishop of London until 
1784, and indeed mo-t of them until 1788 or 
1789. Virginia had established the Church 
of England as the religion of the colony, as 
early as 1650, and Maryland, though settled 
at lirst by Romau Catholics, had done the 
same thing in 1692. Attempts were made 
by some of the colonial governors of New 
York to make it the established religion of 
that colony, but without great success. The 
adherents to the Church of England were, 
however, considerably numerous in New 
York, Pennsylvania, Jlaryland, and Vir- 
ginia, before the Revolutionary War, and 
they had ten or twelve cliurches in Connec- 
ticut. In the other colonies they were very 
few. ElTorts had been made to obtain one 
or two bishops for these colonies almost from 
the beginning of the eighteenth centnry, but 
they had failed, both from the unfriendly 
feeling of the English government, and from 
the jealousy against Episcopacy in the colon- 
ies, growing out of the poliiical complications 
in which the bishops in Great Britain were 
involved. In November, 1784, Rev. Sam- 
uel Seabury, D. D., a Connecticut clergy- 
man, having sought ordination as a bishop 
of the diocese of Connecticut, from the Eng- 
lish bishops, and being refused on account of 
some political obstacles, went to Scotland 
and was consecrated at Aberdeen, by three 
of the bishops of the Scottish Episcopal 
Church. In 1787, William White. D. D., 
was consecrated Bishop of the Uiocese of 
Pennsylvania, and Samuel Provost, D. D., 
Bishop of the diocese of New York, by the 
Ai-chbishop of Canterbury, at Lambeth Pal- 
ace chapel, and three and a half years later, 
James Madison, D. D., of Virginia, was con- 
secrated at the same place as Bishop of the 



536 



HISTORY AND PnOGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIOXS. 



Diocese of Virginia. Tlii^se four bishops 
were all who reteived coiif^ecralion in Great 
Britain and tlmnigh them, according to the 
views of the High Church ]iarty, the Apos- 
tolical succes-^ion in the bishops and clergy 
was transmitted to the American cliurch. 
Tlie growth of tlie Protestant Kpiscopal 
Cliurch has not been rapid, but lias been to 
a great extent in the large cities and princi- 
pal towns of the country, and only to a lim- 
ited extent in the rural parishes. The beau- 
tiful liturgy and imposing ritual of the Epis- 
copal Church, as well as the wealth and 
fashion of some of its adlierents, and the gor- 
geous architecture of many of its church edi- 
fices, have (.Irawn to its worship, in the great 
cities, large numbers of the fashionable and 
worldly, attracted by externals ; but within 
its communion are also very many earnest 
and devout souls, to wdioni its order and cer- 
emonies are exceedingly precious. Within 
its conniiunion, as in that of the Church of 
England, there are three distinct parties, 
often more diverse in their views than either 
is from other denominations ; yet all profess- 
ing to hold by the same standards, to which, 
however, they give very difierent interpreta- 
tions. The doctrinal standards of the Pro- 
testant Episcopal Church, are the Apostles' 
and Nicene creeds (for though many of them 
agree to the Athanasian Creed, it is not an 
acknowledged standard as it is with the 
Church of England) ; the XXXIX articles 
of the Church of England, except the XXIst 
and XXXVIIth. and a slight moditication of 
the Vlllth, XXXVth, and XXXVIth ; the 
Book of Connnon Prayer, as revised by the 
American Bishojis, and the Homilies in gen- 
eral. The Hifili Cliurch party (with which 
are generally included the Ritualists, and the 
Puseyites or Tractarians, though liolh go far- 
ther than most of the High Cliurchmen) take 
their stand upon the Episcopal Constitution, 
the theory of A|iostolical succession, and 
more than all on the Book of Common 
Prayer, and give to these standards a signili- 
. cation which seems strained and my.-ticid, 
and insist that they are to be interpreted 
with due reference to the practices and cus 
foms of the early Catholic Cliurch. They 
have brought into the worship of the Protest- 
ant Episcopal Church many customs, cere- 
monies, and practices which are certainlv 
borrowed from the Roman Catholic cliurch, 
and a considcralile number of them have 
demonstrated this, by taking still another 
Btep and going entirely over to the Church 



of Rome. This branch of the Protestant 
Episcopal Church, or rather this party in it, 
have been extremely intolerant of other 
religious denominations, denouncing them as 
dissenters, and as having i o part in the cov- 
enant, assuming to themselves even a higher 
]iosition than that claimed by the Roman 
Catho'ic Church. At the same time, it is 
due to them to say, that in active Christian 
work within the bounds of their own denom- 
ination, exclusivelj-, they aie not suqiassed 
by any other denomination in the country, 
according to their numbers. Their intoler- 
ance and bigotry has possibly led another 
division of the church, the Low Church part}', 
to an extreme in the other direction. The 
Low Church take their jiosition on the 
" Thirty nine articles " which are Calvinistic 
on the doctrine of election, and Zuinglian in 
the doctrine of the Sacraments. They are 
Evangelical in their doctrinal views, and in- 
terpret their standards as permitting, and 
indeed enjoining, on them free and hearty 
Christian intercourse with other Evangelical 
deiii niinations. They interchange pulpits 
with them, and engage very cordially in as- 
sociations for the promotion of objects of 
general Christian benevolence. That in 
these measures they occasionally oversti p 
the strict letter of their standards, may be, 
and ]irobably is, due to a too great narrow- 
ness in the standards themselves. 

The third, or "Broad C'hurch party," ha\e 
not so much inclination either to a narrow 
and straight-laced interpreiation of their 
standard-^, and a bigotry towaiil other denom- 
inations, or to a thoroughly evangelical coop- 
eration with them, as to loose and broad views 
in regard to the in-piration and authenticity 
of the Scriptures, and a strongly rationalistic 
tendency. This party, which we believe 
includes in this country none of the bishops, 
subscribe to the XXXIX articles, with many 
mental reservations, and some of them boldly 
avow that Protestantism is a failure. 

The condition of aflairs in the Protestant 
Episcopal Church, resulting from these great 
ditlerenccs of sentiment and opinion, have 
more than once threatened that cliuri h with 
division, if not dissolution, and at the present 
time seem more likely to rend it than ever. 
A few churches have already withdrawn 
from its coramuniou, and others of the Low 
Church party are only awaiting the result of 
a last appeal to the Triennial CTCueral Con- 
vention to deiide upon their future course. 

Under the article on the Methodist Epis- 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



537 



corAL Church, we have given twenty-five 
of the thirty-seven articles retained by the 
Protestant Epi-copal Church, in every case 
but one using their exact language. (This 
one is in regard to the " Rulers of the United 
States of America," and, of course, difiers 
from the English article on the subject of 
rulers.) It is hardly necessary for us to 
repeat these, and the others which are omit- 
ted by the Methodist Church, but retained 
by the Protestant Episcopal; they relate, as 
will appear from their titles, rather to ab- 
stract topics and beliefs, and to matters of 
polity, than to the fundamental doctrines of 
the Church. The titles of the omitted arti- 
cles are : " Art. 3. Of the going down of 
Christ into Hell." "Art. 13. Of works before 
justilication." "Art. 15. Of Christ alone 
without sin." "Art. 17. Of Predestination 
and Election "(the most decidedly Calvinistic 
article in the whole XXXIX, and singularly 
at variance with some other portions of the 
standard). "Art. 18. Of obtaining salvation 
only by the name of Christ." "Art. 20. Of 
the authority of the Church." "Art. 23. Of 
ministering in the congregation." "Art. 26. 
Of tlio I 111 worthiness of the ministers, which 
hinders nut the effect of the sacrament." 
"Art. 20 Of the wicked which eat not the 
body of Christ in the use of the Lord's Sup- 
per." "Art. 33. Of excommimicated per- 
sons ; how they are to be avoided." "Art. 
34. Of the traditions of the Church." "Art. 
36. Of tlie consecration of Bishops .and min- 
isters." This last is modified to adapt it to 
the peculiarities of the American church. 
To the doctrinal discrepancies growing out 
of the interpretations of the XXXIX arti- 
cles, and the Book of Common Prayer, 
which it is very difficult to make accord fully 
with each other, is due mudi of the division 
in the Protestant Episcopal Church. 

In matters of polity, the Episcopal Church 
recognizes three orders of clergy : Bishops, 
priests, and deacons. The Bishops, like 
those of the Roman Catholic, Greek, Armen- 
ian, and some other churches, are diocesan, 
i. e., have charge of the churches of a partic- 
ular territory or diocese, in distinction from 
those of the Methodist Church, which are 
general and itinerant, and those of a part of 
the Lutheran churches, which are more 
nearly Presbyterian, the Bishop being of no 
higher authority nor dignity than the other 
clergy, but simply performing duties of a dif- 
ferent class. Such is substantially also the 
theory of Episcopacy in the Moravian church. 



The High Church theory is, that the Bish- 
ops are the successors of the Apostles, that 
the consecration has come to them in regular 
order through the hands of a succession of 
holy men, the bishops of the Roman Church 
before the Reformation, and that they are 
thus Bishops by direct transmission from 
Jesus Christ and his Apostles, and so by 
divine right. They regard them as superior 
to priests and deacons. The Low Church 
party deny all this, and reject the theory of 
the "exclusive validity of Episcopal orders." 
The priests, called also in the United States, 
genenilly rectors, and, where not in full 
charge of a parish, assistant ministers, have 
received at the hands of the bishop the sec- 
ond ordination which confers upon them the 
]iower of administering the sacraments. Tlie 
third, or lowest grade of the ministry, is the 
deacon, which in this church is usually but 
temporary, the candidate when invested with 
this office, is allowed to baptize, to read in 
the church, and to assist in the Eucharist, 
but only in the administration of the wine. 
His office is wholly distinct from that of the 
deacon in Presbyterian, Congregational, or 
Baptist churches, being more analogous to 
that of the licentiate in those churches. It is 
usually a mere preliminary or stepping stone 
to the reception of priests' orders, and both 
ordinations are, in some instances, effected in 
the same day. The temporaliiies of the 
Episcopal churches are administered by the 
concurrence of the rector and the vestry, 
composed of wardens and vestrymen elected 
by the members of the parish. The Episco- 
pal Chin-ch usually administers baptism by 
making the sign of the cross on the forehead 
of the person baptized, requiring a profession 
of faith (in the case of infants, this is made 
for them by their sponsors, or god-father and 
god-mother). Immersion either in the case 
of children or adults, though formerly prac- 
tised by the Church of England, is not now 
considered necessary. The formula for the 
baptism of infants, in the prayer book, con- 
tains the words, " since this child is now re- 
generate" and a very exciting discussion has 
sprung up in regard to these words, some 
clergymen contending that they inculcated 
the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, and 
refusing to use them on this account. At 
the Triennial General Convention, held in 
Baliimore, in Oct. 1871, though no general 
canon defining this passage was passed, yet 
nearly all the bishops signed a paper giving 
it as their private opinion that the term as 



538 



HISTOUY AND PROGIIUSS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



thus used was not intended to imply that doc- 
trine. 

The statistics of tlie Protestant Episcopal 
Church in 1 .S70 were as follows : Dioceses 39 ; 
Missionary do. 11 ; Bishops 39; Assistant do. 
5; Mis'iii'naiy do. 8; Priests and Deacons 2,- 
710; Parishes •2,.5r2; communicants, not fully 
reported, but believed to be not cjuite 220,- 
000; Baptisms of infants, 20,749; of adults, 
.5,030; not specified, 3,760; Contirinations 
20,793; Sunday School Teachers 18,664; 
Scholars 185,079; Contributions (incom- 
plete), »4,205,029. 

The Episcopal Church has been very ac- 
tive in the promotion of educational institu- 
tions. It has 1 4 theological seminaries, with 
57 professors and 366 students; l.T colleges, 
with 1,380 students, and 20 academies and 
diocesan schools, under the control of its 
Bishops. It has 22 periodicals, weekly, semi- 
weekly, monthly, and quarterly, devoted to 
its interests, and within a few years past has 
manifested a zeal and energy in propagating 
its views, and establishing churches, e?peci- 
ally in the new states and territories, which 
contrasts very favorably with the apathy of 
its early history. 



VII. THE EVANGELICAL LUTHERAN 
CHURCH. 

The Lutheran Church in the United 
States, is one, in the sense of holding with 
greater or less tenacity to the same stand- 
ards or Confessions of Faith ; but it has 
some elements of discord in it, mainly in 
matters of minor importance, which have 
led to violent controversies, and to so great 
bitterness between some of its synods that 
they not only refuse fellowship and commun- 
ion wiih each other, but have excommuni 
cated each other. These discordant elements 
are, however, confined for tiie most part to 
the smaller independent synods, and do not 
so much affect tiie larger bodies. The de- 
nomination is growing in the United States 
with great rapidity, especially in the West, 
and mainly, thougli not exclusively, by immi- 
gration, the very large numbers of Germans, 
Swedes, Norwegians, and Danes, arriving 
here every year being, a in.ajorily of them — 
nominally at least — attached to the Lutiieran 
faith. The first Lutherans came to Penn- 
sylvania between 1680 and 1700, attracted 
by the offers of William Penii. In 1710, 
about 3,000 German Lutherans who had 
taken refuge in England from the persecu- 



tions of the Romanists, were sent over to 
Pennsylvania by the British government. 
In 1727, another large colony came over 
from the Palatinate, Wurtemburg, Darm- 
stadt, and otiier jjarts of Germany. For 
nearly twenty years, these poor people had 
no ministers of their own ; but in 1748, Dr. 
Henry Jlelchior Muhlenburg, a missionary 
of the Halle Orphan Housw, brought up under 
the training of Franckc and Spencer, came 
to Pennsylvania and labored mo?t zealously 
for half a century among them, organizing 
churches, consistories, and synods, and being 
entitled to be considered the father of the 
German Lutheran Church in America. At 
the time he arrived here, there were only 
eleven Lutheran ministers in the Colonies. 
Three years later there were forty, and a 
Lutheran population of about 60,000. No 
one of the Protestant churches suffered more 
severely by the Revolutionary "War than did 
the Lutheran, and ihey were long in recov- 
ering from the depression thus caused. Many 
of their churches were abandoned, and it 
seemed for years as if their religious vitality 
had departed. Their churches were scatter- 
ed, and belonged to di.-tant and separate 
synods, having little communication with 
each other and no common band of union, 
and being in manj' instances composed of 
Lutherans from ditterent countries of Europe, 
they were inclined to look upon each other 
with jealousy. This was, to some extent, 
remedied, and a better state of affairs inaug- 
urated by the formation of the General .Syn- 
od of the Lutheran Church, in 1820. From 
that time, a steady and constantly increasing 
lido of emigration began to fiow in to the 
country, and much of the German and .Scan- 
dinavian part of it was composed of Luther- 
ans, or those who had been brought up under 
Lutheran influences. Many of these, coming 
from countries where Lutheranism was the 
religion of the state, and the sovereign the 
head of the church, had been accustomed to 
great laxity in religious matters. At the 
suitable age they were confirmed and became 
members of the church, however irregular 
their mode of life, and no evidence of conver- 
sion was required for membership. These 
la.x views, aiid a general tendency to ration- 
alism, they desired to graft upon the Ameri- 
can Lutheran Church, and in some of the 
newer synods their views prevailed. These 
synods refused, on these and other accounts, 
to join the Gener.al Synod. There were 
other grounds of difference, also, relating to 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



539 



the sUinilards of the church, the clerical o(!ice, 
the adoption or rejection of -ynibulical rites 
and cerenioaies, and a lituigical service, and 
the making use of what have been known as 
revival measures. These differences were 
increased by the emigration of a consideraljle 
number of the " Old Lutheran " party to the 
United States in 1837 and 1838. llie 
Lutherans all agree in receiving the "Augs- 
burg Confession," (drawn up by Melanch- 
thon, and sanctioned liy Lutlier, in 1530) as 
their principal standard of doctrine ; though 
the New Lutherans regard even this as only 
an expression, " in a manner substantially 
correct," of the cardinal doctrines of the 
Bdile, which they regard as the only infalli- 
ble rule of faith and practice. The Old 
Lutherans on the contrary, while avowing 
the Bible as the ultimate rule of faith and 
practice, adhere very strenuously to the 
entire " Book of Concord," so called, as the 
standard of their doctrinal beliefs. This 
Book of Concord contains the three creeds, 
viz., the Apostles', Athana^ian, and Niceue 
Creeds, the Augsburg Confession of 1830, 
and the Apology of the Confession (written 
by Melanchthon, 1510), the Schmalkald 
Articles (drawn up by Luther in lo37), and 
the two Catechisms of Luther (prepared be- 
fore 1530). The Old Lutherans are in- 
clined, to some extent, to retain also, those 
rites, ceremonies, and observances, wh cli 
Melanchthon regarded as things indifferent, 
sucli as the wearing of clerical vestments, 
exorcism, private confessions, lax vimvs of 
the Sabbath, and the oM Lutheran doctrine 
of baptism, in its relation to regeneration 
and the Lord's Supper. 

'• Tlie book of Concord," and, indeed, the 
"Augsburg Confession," and its '•Apologjs" 
are too long to be inserted in this brief his- 
tory of denominations, but we give below a 
summary of their principal doctrines, as 
stated by an eminent Lutheran clergyman. * 
'• The fundamental doctrine of the Lutheran 
Church is that we are justified before God, 
not through any merit of our own, but by his 
tender mercy, through faith in his Son. The 
depravity of man is total in its extent, and 
his will has no positive ability in the work of 
salvation, but has the negative ability of 
ceasing its resistance. Jesus Christ otl'ered 
a proper and vicarious sacrifice. Faith in 
Christ presupposes a true penitence. The 
renewed man co-works with the Spirit of 



• New American Cyclopedia, Vol. X, pp. 739, "40. 



God. Sanctificat'on is progressive and nev- 
er reaches absolute perfection in this life. 
The Holy Spirit works through the Word 
and the Sacraments, which alone, in the 
proper sense, are means of grace. Both the 
Word and the Sacraments bring a positive 
grace which is oft'ered to all who leceive 
them outwardly, and wliich is actually im- 
parted to all «ho have faith to embrace it. . 
. . . . The Evangelical Lutheran Church 
regards the "Word of God, the Canonical 
Scriptures, as the aljsolute and only law of 
faith, and of life. AVhatever is undefined by 
its letter or its spirit, is the subject of Chris- 
tian liberty, and ])erlains not to the sphere of 
conscience, but to that of order ; no power 
may enjoin upon the church, as necessary, 
what God has forbidden, or has passed by in 
silence, as none may forbid her to hold what 
God has enjoined upon her, or to practise 
what, by His silence, he has left to her free- 
dom. Just as firmly as she holds upon the 
one hand that the Bible is the rule of faith 
and not a confession of it, she holds on the 
other that the creed is a confession of faith 
and not the rule of it. The creeds are sim- 
ply the testimony of the Church to the truths 
she holds ; but as it is the truth they confess, 
she of necessity regards those who reject 
the truth confessed in the creed, as rejecting 
the truth set forth in the Word. While, 
therefore, it is as true of the Lutheran 
Church as of any other, th.at when she lays 
her hand upon the I>il)le, she gives the com- 
mand, ' Believe ! ' and when she lays it on 
the Confession, she puts the question, 'Do 
you believe ?' it is also true that when a man 
replies, ' No,' to the question, she considers 
him as thereby giving evidence that he has 

not obeyed the command Baptism. 

The Lutheran Church holds that it is neces- 
sary to salvation to be born again of water, 
and the S|)irit ; but she holds that this neces- 
sity is ordinaiy, not absolute, or without ex- 
ception ; that the contempt of the sacrament, 
not the want of it, condemns, and that though 
God binds us to the means. He does not bind 
His own mercy liy them. From the time of 
Luther to the present hour the Lutheran the- 
ologians have maintained the salvability and 
.actual salvation of infants dying unbaptized. 
The rest of the doctrine of the Lutheran 
Church as a whole, is involved in her confes- 
sion, with the Nicene Creed, " one baptism 
for the remission of sin," and that through 
it the grace of God is oft'ered ; that chil- 
dren are to be baptized, and that being 



540 



H STORT AND PROGR! S3 OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



thus committed to God they are graciously 
received by him. At the same time she 
rejects tlie theory of the Anabaptists, that 
infants unbaptized have salvation because of 
their personal innocence, and maintains that 
the nature with wliich we are born requires a 
change, whicli must be wrought before we 
can enter heaven, and tliat infants are sa\ed 
by the application of Christ's redemptory 
work." It has been charged for more tlian 
three centuries that the Lutlierans held to 
the doctrine of Consubstantiation, that is, the 
local or corporeal presence in, with, or under 
the bread in the Lord's Supper ; tln'y deny 
tliis most strenuously, but admit that tliey 
hold to a sacramental, spiritual, or supernat- 
ural presence of the Divine Redeemer in the 
sacrament, and tliat those who partake, do in 
reality feed upon him spiritually, though if 
unworthy, to their own condemnation. On 
the subject of the Lord's Day, while it is 
acknowledged that the general practice 
among Protestants on the continent of 
Europe, in regard to its observance, is much 
more lax tlian that whicli prevails in Eng- 
land and the United States, yet the Ameri- 
can Lutheran Cimrch profess to hold that 
the Sabbatli was instituted at tlie creation of 
man ; that tlie generic idea of devoting one 
day of the week to rest from labor, and to 
religious duties, pertains to the entire race 
thi'ough all time ; and that the law of the 
Sabbath, so far as it is not determinative and 
typical, is binding on Christians. 

"Divine Worship. The Lutheran Cliurch 
regards preaching as an indispensable part 
of divine service. All worsliip is to be in 
the vernacular ; the wants of the heart as 
well as of the reason are to be met. Wliat- 
ever of the past is spiritual, beautiful, and 
appropriate, is to be retained. The Church 
year, with its great festivals, is kept. With 
various national diversities, there is a sub- 
stantial agreement in the liliu'gical services 
of the Lutheran Ciiurch, throughout almost 
all tiie world. The hymns are sung bj' all 
the people, with the organ accompaniment." 
The hymnolog}' of the Lutheran Church sur- 
passes that of all other churches in the world 
in sweetnes-', richness, power, and unction. 
Even in tlieir Engli-h dress there are few 
hymns more b(;autiful or soul-inspiring than 
Luther's " A strong fortress is our God," or 
" O ! Head, so bruised and wounded," or 
" Jerusalem, the Golden." 

" The clergymen in their official functions, 
wear a distinctive dress, usually a black robe, 



with the bands. A preparatory service pre- 
cedes communion. The doctrine and prac- 
tice of auricular confession were rejected in 
the beginning. The " private confession," 
which was established in some parts of the 
Church, involves no enumeration or confes- 
sion of particular sins whatever, unless the 
communicant desires to speak of them ; and 
the " private absolution " is simply tlie an- 
nunciation of the gospel promise, with the 
gospel conditions to the individual penitent. 
But even in this form, private confession has 
ceased in most parts of the church. The 
practice of exorcism in baptism, simply as a 
rite long established, and which might be 
tolerated if regarded merely as a symbolical 
representation of the doctrine that our nature 
is under the dominion of sin, was practised 
in parts of the church, but has fallen almost 
everywhere into oblivion. 

Constitution or Polity of the Church. 
"Many embarrassing circumstances prevent- 
ed the Lutheran Church from developing her 
life as perfectl}' in her church constitution, 
as in her doctrines and worship. Tlie idea 
of tlie universal priesthood of all believers, 
at once overthrew the doctrine of a distinc- 
tion of essence between clergy and laity. 
(This doctrine is, nevertheless, maintained 
in one or two of the American synods. — 
Editor.) The ministry is not an order, but 
it is a divinely appointed office, to viliich 
men must be rightly called. No imparity 
exists by divine right ; a hierarchical organi- 
zation is unchristi:ni, but a gradation (bish- 
ops, superintendents, provost*.) ma}' be ob- 
served, as a thing of human right only. (In 
the United States, the Lutheran Church has 
no bishojis, superintendents, or provosts. — 
Editor.) The government by consistories 
has been very general. In Denmark, Evan- 
gelical bishojjs took the place of Roman 
Catholic prelates who were deposed. In 
Sweden, the bishops embraced the Reforma- 
tion, and thus secured in that country an 
" apostolic succession," in the High Church 
sense ; though, on the principles of the Luth- 
eran Church,. alike where she has, as where 
she has not such a succession, it is not re- 
garded as essential even to the order of tha 
church. The ultimate source of power is in 
the congregation, that is, in the pastor and 
other officers of the church, and the people 
of the single communions. The right to 
choose a pastor belongs to the people, who 
may exercise it by direct vote, or delegate it 
to their representatives. Synods possess 



HISTORT AND PROGRESS OF THE IUFFEKENT DENOMINATIONS. 



541 



such power as the congregations delegate to 
tlieni. " Ministers are related to congreffa- 
tions, not as their servants, but as the serv- 
ants of the church, and in the United States 
where the Congregational priuciiile has been 
more radically developed than anywhere 
else in the Lutheran Church, "the Synod to 
which pastors belong has the entire jurisdic- 
tion over them." (See Formula of the 
Lutheran Church, Chap, iii, 3.) Absolute 
ministerial parity is maintained, and lay rep- 
resentation is universal ; but many vital 
points of church organizations are entirely 
unsettled, and the doctrine that synods are 
merely advisory bodies," is often pressed in 
a way that tends to anarchy. 

The Lutheran Church in the LTnited States 
■ is divided into the following organizations : 
1st, The General Synod, founded in 1820, 
and comprising in 1870, twenty Synods, viz- 
the Synods of Maryland, West Pennsylvania, 
Hartwick, East Ohio, Frankean, Alleghany, 
East Pennsylvania, Miami, Wittenberg, 
Olive, Northern Illinois, Southern Illinois. 
Central Pennsylvania, English Synod of 
Iowa, Northern Indiana, New Jersey, Cen- 
tral Illinois, New York, Susquehanna, Pitts- 
burgh, and Kansas. The General Synod 
recognizes the Augsburg Confession, but al- 
lows considerable liberty of doctrinal views 
in its interpretation. It formerly had more 
synods connected with it, but six southern 
synod<, subsequently increased to seven, se- 
ceded during the war and formed the South 
EPN General Synod. Their action was 
based on the resolutions of loj"alty to the 
Government expressed by the General Syn 
od, but they are said to have adhered more 
closely to the standards, and to have been 
more strict in regard to the qualifications of 
membership than the Old Synod. The 
Northern General Synod had, in 1870, G27 
ministers, 1,UG7 churches, and 103,042 com- 
municants. The Southern General Synod, 
organized in 1862, had at the same time: 
126 ministers, 225 churches, and 2U,796 com 
municants. 

A much younger body, and yet having a 
larger membership, is the General Coun- 
cil, organized in 1867. The General Coun- 
cil adheres to the entire body of standards 
contained in the " Book of Concord," which 
tliey declare to be accepted by them as be- 
ing in full accord with the Scriptures. It 
comprises twelve Synods, viz : The New 
York Ministerium, the Synod of Pennsylva- 
nia, a Pittsburgh Synod, the English District 



Synod of Ohio, the English Synod of Ohio, 
the Synod of Illinois, the Synod of Michigan, 
the German Synod of Iowa, the Synod of 
Minnesota, the Scandin.avian Augustana 
Synod, the Synod of Texas, and the Synod 
of Canada. These Synods had in 1870,535 
ministers, 986 churches, and 131,632 mem- 
bers. 

Six other Synods, viz : Missouri, Ohio, 
Wirconsin, the Norwegian, Grabaii's-BufFalo 
Synod, and the German Synod of New 
York, agree very fully in doctrines with each 
other, except that the last two named have 
some peculiar views in regard to the status of 
the Christian ministry. They differ from 
the General Council in these four points : 
they desire to prohibit an interchange of pul- 
pits with all other denominations, and admis- 
sion to the Lord's Supper ; they condemn 
Jlillenarianism, and excommunicate from 
their fellowship all members of secret socie- 
ties. Their numbers, in 1870, were as fol- 
lows : ministers, 650 ; churches, 965 ; com- 
municants, 150,925. These synods will prob- 
ably soon be united in one organization. 

The following synods, all small, are still 
independent, but will probably soon be con- 
nected with some one of the larger bodies : 
The Tennessee, Von Rohr's Buffalo Synod, 
the Concordia, Eielson's Scandinavian Synod, 
and the Norwegian Danish Conference. 
These synods had in 1870, 70 ministers, 218 
churches, 18,327 members. There were, 
besides, 30 ministers whose synodal connec- 
tion was unascertained. There were, there- 
fore, in 1870, connected with the different 
councils, synods, and conferences of the 
Lutheran Church in the United States, 53 
synods, 2,086 ministers, 3,544 churches, and 
425,577 communicants. The other statistics 
of the Church are partial, and not later than 
1869. The General Synod had in that year, 
81,445 teachers and scholars in its Sabbath 
Schools, and contributed to benevolent ob- 
jects $340,133. The contributions of the 
other branches of the church are not report- 
ed. 

Thirty-two Lutheran newspapers were 
published in 1870, viz : Eight English, six- 
teen German, two Swedish, and six Norwe- 
gian and Danish. There are two Lutheran 
Church Almanacs published annually, one at 
Baltimore, the other at Allentown, Pa. 
There are 15 Theological seminaries for 
Lutheran students, with about 60 professors, 
and 450 students, and 17 colleges with more 
than 2,000 students. There are also 18 sem- 



542 



HISTOKV ANU PKOGRESS Of THE WIKKKKKNT DKNOMrNATIONS. 



inarie-i or academies ol high grade under 
their control. 



VIII THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS OR 
QUAKEKS. 

I. The Original or Outiiodox 
Frirnds. The Society of Friends originated 
in the earlv part of the seventeenih centnry, in 
Great Britain, as one of those protests against 
formalism and Chi-istianity from which the 
heart and life had died out, which have in all 
ages demonstrated the power of religious 
principle to react from the deadness of state 
churches. George Fox, its founder, com- 
menced proclaiming the doctrines of the 
jwwer of Christ to save men from sin, and 
the influence of the Holy Spirit in changing 
and transforming the evil nature, wlien he 
was but twenty tliree years of age, and con- 
tinned it for forty years, until his death. Ilis 
followers were not very numerous, but they 
were excee<lingly earnest, stern in their 
adherence to what they believed to be the 
monitions of the Holy Spirit, and when per- 
secuted, took joyfully the spoiling of their 
goods, and went to prison, to the stake, or to 
the gallows with a calm fearlessness which 
convinced many of the truth of their doc- 
trines. It was not in England alone that 
they were thus persecuted. In July, 1G5G. 
two female members of the Society of 
Friends reached the port of Boston, but 
were compelled by the colonial government 
to return in the same ship. Others, however, 
followed soon after, and while their conscien- 
tious protest against the prevalent customs 
and manners may have savored of fanaticism, 
the colonial authorities were certainly in the 
wrong in persecuiing them so bitterly. They 
were whipped, imprisoned, and banished from 
the Massaehn-etts Colony, and four out of 
five who ventui-ed to return from banish- 
ment, one of 'hem a woman of remarkable 
gifts a)id devotion, were hanged for their 
contempt of the colonial law.s. The last 
niartvr of the Society ot Friends in America 
was executed in IGIJI, but subsequent to that 
date some were whijiped, banished, and im- 
prisoned, in the colonies of Massachusetts 
and Connecticut. In 1G82, a considerable 
number of Friends came over to Pennsyl- 
vania with William Penn, himself a mem- 
ber of the Society. Fox had himself visited 
America in KiG'J, and remained till IGiJJ, 
and had established meetings of Friends in 
North Carolina and elsewhere, some of which 



are still in existence. The Society of 
Friends in America adheres, to this day, to 
the organization devised for it by Fox. 
Their meetings, as they call their congrega- 
tions, are presided over by Elders, and these 
the most prudent and judicious men ot these 
congregations, exercise a quiet, but effective, 
supervision over those who believe them- 
selves called of God to proclaim his truth. 
The utterances of this truth made as the re- 
sult ot a special impulse or call of the Spirit 
then and there to spenk. are made bj- both 
sexes, the doctrine of^ the Friends on this sub- 
ject being, that God calls both men and women 
to utter his truths. The meetings are sub- 
ject to monthly meetings of the diflferent 
congregations of a neighborhood or district, 
and these to the '* Yearly Sleetings," which 
are diocesan in their character, and have a 
controlling and disciplinary power. These 
Yearly Jleetings, of which there are ten or 
more, are equal in their authority, and there 
is no appeal from their decisions. 

At the time of the commencement of the 
Revolutionary War, there were almut 4.5,0U0 
Friends in the thirteen colonies, and as they 
were opposed to bearing arms, .and utterly 
refused to take part in the War, there was at 
first some apprehension that they were hos- 
tile to the patriot side. This impression was 
soon dissipated; for though, with some few 
exceptions, the members of the society did 
not bear arms, they rendered great and con., 
spicuous service to the national cause, and 
this service was rendered with such sacrifices 
and with so much liberality as to show that 
their hearts were in the cause, though they 
were con^icientiously opposed to fighting- For 
two or three decades after the war, they con- 
tiiuied to increase, though not very rapidly. 
Tiien came a season of stagnation. Thej', 
who, in the beginning of their history, had 
been the most radical of radicals, were now 
intensely conservative ; and while as holy 
men and women as ever walked the earth 
shaded their brows beneath broad brinnned 
hats and Quaker bonnets, and .adhered strictly 
to the Quaker dress, there had come over the 
society a spirit of formalism, which occupied 
itself too much in the petty details of dress 
and language, and neglected, to some extent, 
the weightier matters of law, judgment, and 
faith. Their services had become distasteful 
to many of their young people, and these 
were abandoning the faith of their fathers 
and going to the opposite extreme of Ritual- 
istic observance in the Episcopal Church, ofj 



niSTCRT AND Pl:OGUE&S OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



US 



in still stronger protest against its stringent 
rules of life, became the most worldly of 
workllings, till it became a byeword in re- 
gard to tlie fastest of fast young men, " They 
were brought up as Quakers ! Meanwhile, 
tliere was in the meetings ihemsclves a grad- 
ual drawing away from llio soundness of 
their pristine failh. There were not, as of 
old, those fervent, earnest testimonies; the 
Spirit's power of impressing men and women 
to utter the word of exhortation came to be 
less frequently and h.'ss decide<lly manifested 
than of old, and ever and anon there were 
those mute, but protracted, assemblies which 
bore witness moi'e powerfully than any pro- 
phetic utterance could have done, that it was 
not with them as in days past, wlii'n the can- 
dle of the Lord shined around about them. 
In 1827 came the great secession, when al- 
most one-third of their number repudiated 
the claims of Cliri-t, as "the God-man, the 
Divine lledeemor, and, while still claiming 
to be " Friends," withilrew with their leader 
and formed a new organization. For more 
than twenty years thai followed, the 'Friends' 
of the Orthodox faith still walked in the wil- 
derness, amid clouds ami <larkncss ; still their 
sons and daughters fell away to the worhl, 
and their numbers deereascJ or remained 
stationary. 

But at length the time of refreshing came, 
and as the tesiiinonies to God's goodness and 
grace multiplied, and their meetings were no 
longer silent and dreary as of old, they be- 
gin to extend their intluenee, and to find in 
active work for Christ, in the First Day 
Schools, in the distribution of the Word of 
God, in labors for the poor, oppressed, and 
down trodden, the true secret of success. 
Since 18")U, their numbers have nearly 
doul)led, and in the work of religious instruc- 
tion, and vigorous eftbrc~ for the conversion 
of men, they have found su<'li blessings that 
they have liecome an aggressive, earnest, and 
ellieieiit body of Christian men ami women. 

"The Society of Friends," says Mr. Wil- 
liam .J. Allinson, editor of The Friends' Re- 
i-iew, '• is not, at issue with other Orthodox 
churches on the general points of Christian 
doctrine. Avoiding the use of the word 
Trinity, they reverently believe in the Holy 
Three: tlie Fa! her, the Lord .Tesus Christ, 
the only begotten of the Father, by whom 
are all things, who is the Mediator between 
God and man, and in the Holy Spirit, who 
proseedeth from the Father and Son — One 
God, blessed forever. They accept, in its 



fullness, the testimony of Holy Scripture 
with regard to the nature and offices of Christ, 
as the [iromised Messiah, the Word made 
flesh, the atonement for sin, the Saviour and 
Redeemer of the world. They have no re- 
liance upon any other name, no hope of sal- 
vation that is not based upon his meritorious 
death on the cross. As fully do they admit 
his humanity, and that he was truly man, 
" sin only excepted." They so fully believe 
in the Holy Spirit of Christ, that without the 
inward revelation thereof they feel that they 
can do nothing to God's glory, or to further 
the salvation of their own souls. Without 
the influence thereof they know not how to 
approach the Father, through the Son, nor 
what to pray for as they ought. Their 
whole code of belief calls for the entire sur- 
render of the natural will to the guidance of 
the pure, unerring Spirit, through whose 
renewed assistance they are enabled to bring 
forth fruits unto holiness, and to stand per- 
fect in their present work. As it was the 
design of Christ in going to the Father, to 
send, as a Comforter, his Sjiirit to his disci- 
ples, so it is with his Spirit that he baptized 
and doth baptize them, it being impossible, 
in the estimation of the Friends, that an out- 
ward ablution should wash from the spirit of 
man the stains of sin. Hence they attach 
imixirtance to " the baptism which now 
saveth," and which John the Baptist pre- 
dicted should be administered by Christ. 
And it is by his Spirit, also, that liis follow-- 
ers are enabled to partake of the true vSup- 
per of the Lord : " Behold I stand at the 
door and knock: if any man hear my voice, 
and open unto me, I will come in and sup 
with him, and he shall sup with me." Thus 
they hold that the coming of the Lord .Jesus 
Christ in the flesh was the grand epoch and 
central fact of time, and that types and shad- 
ows, and all ceremonial observances, which 
had their place before, as shadows of good 
things to come, now that they have been ful- 
filled in Him, are only shadows of those 
shadows. The type properly precedes the 
reality, and truly this was worthy of being 
foreshadowed ; " but," says Paul, " w hen that 
which is perfect is come, that which is iu 
part shall be done away." 

In regard to their views of the resurrec- 
tion, Thomas Evans, another of their lead- 
ing writers, says : " The Society of Friends, 
believes that there will be a resurrection 
both of the righteous and the wicked ; the 
one to ^eternal life and blessedness, and 



bU 



mSrOltV AND PUOGRESS OP THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



the otliei to everlasting misery and torment, 
aijreeahlv to Matt. XXV, 31-45; John V, 
2:)-.)0 : i Cor. XV, 1 2-o8. That God will 
juilge the world hy that man whom he hath 
oidained, even Christ Jesus the Lord, who 
will render unto every man according to his 
works ; to them who by patient continuing 
in well doing during this life, seek for glory 
and honor, immortality and eternal life; but 
unto the contentious and disobedient, who 
obey not the truth, but obey unrighteousness, 
indignation and wrath, tribulation and an- 
guish, upon every soul of man that siuueth, 
for God is no respecter of persons." 

The Friends have ever regarded war as 
inconsistent with Christianity. For this they 
refer to the teachings of Christ and his apos- 
tles, the example of the early Christians, and 
to the witness lor truth in their own con- 
sciences, tested and confirmed by the sacred 
writings. They find that all the emotions 
which are exercised In wars and fightings are 
traced to evil lusts, and are inconsistent with 
love which is thu substauco ol the first, tlie 
second, and the new commanttment, wliich 
" worketh no ill to his neighbor," and on 
which " hang all tlie law and the prophets." 
They consiiler oaths to be inadmissible, as 
being positively forbidden by our Lord in 
language not to be mistaken, and this testi- 
mony was made the occasion of inflicling se- 
vere penalties upon the first Friends. Wlien 
their persecutors failed to convict them upon 
false charges, it was customary to administer 
the test oaths to them, on refusing to take 
which, they were cast into prison. 

They decline to use the conijilimentary 
and false language of the world, .and to apply 
to the months and davs, the names given in 
lioiior of pagan gods, preferring the numeri- 
cal nomenclature adopted in the Scriptures. 
In dress, they aim at plainness and simplicity, 
avoiding the tyranny of an ever changing 
fashion. As a naturaJ result, a degree of 
uniformity ot dress prevails among them, 
liefiring much resemblance to the style in 
vogue at the rise of the Society. This ap- 
juoach to uniformity, which at first was unin- 
ti niional, came to lie cherished as a hedge of 
defense against worldly and ensnaring asso- 
ciations, and a means by which they recog- 
nized each other. The principle at stake is 
not in the liishion of a garb, but in simplicity 
and ihe avoidance of changes of fashion. 
AVhil.-t Frit'iids, as good citizens, have cheer- 
fully paid all leg.al assessments for the sup- 
Dort of public schools, and of the poor, and 



have contributed abundantly to the various 
charities, and general claims of benevoience, 
they have always been characterized by their 
scrupulous care in relieving their own poor, 
so that none of their members come upon 
the public for maintenance or gratuitous 
education. 

The Friends had, in 1870, including one 
in Canada, ten Yearly Meetings in North 
America, namely, those of Canada, New 
England, New York, Philadelphia, Balti- 
more, North Carolina, Ohio, Indiana, West- 
ern Indiana, and Iowa. The increase of 
membership in the Western States has been 
veiy rapid of late years. The membership 
of the Society is estimated at 80,000. In all 
the Yearly Jleetings, First Day Schools are 
conducted with ze.al and efficiency. The 
number of teachers ^nd scholars in these 
First Day Schools is about 6.5,000. The 
North Carolina Yearly Meeting has estab- 
lished a Normal Firs^ Day School, for the 
training of teachers of^ these Schools. They 
have three colleges, all of them of high char- 
acter for their thorough scholarship, viz. : 
Haverford College, in Philadelphia county, 
Penn. ; Earlhain College, Richmond, Indiana, 
and Whittior College, Salem, Iowa. They 
have, also, large and admirably conducted 
boarding schools, under the care of their 
Yearly Meetings, at West Town, Pa., Prov- 
idence, R. I., Union Springs, N. Y., and New 
Garden, N. C. They have two or three 
peiiodicals of marked ability, 77ic Friends' 
Revieio, conducted by Mr. AUinson, being in 
li(,erary merit not inferior to any religious 
review in this country. 

II. The Society op Friends (Seced- 
ERS OR HiCKSiTEs). We have already re- 
ferred to the schism or secession which took 
place from the Society of Friends, beginning 
with the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, in 
1827. This secession was led by a preacher 
among the Friends, named Ellas Hicks, and 
hence those who have followed his leading 
are commonly called Hicksites, though they 
repudiate the name and insist that they 
should be known solely as the Society of 
Friends. The points of difference between 
them and the Orthodox Friends seem to have 
been these : Hicks and his followers, while 
maintaining a belief in the authenticity and 
divine authority of the Scriptures, yet do not 
regard them with the same degree of rever- 
ence and faith as the Orthodox. In their 
authorized summaries of Christian doctrine 
and the " advices of their Yearly Meetings," 



niSTOKY AND rnOGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



545 



tiny >ay : '-We acknowledge them to be the 
Oil y lit ou'ward test of Cliristiau doctrines. 
\\ e do not call ihein the Word of God, be- 
cau e tliis appellation is applied by the writ- 
e s o' the iSeri])tures to that Eternal Powei' 

bv which the worlds were made 

We as ign to the Scriptures all the authority 

tliey claim tor tlieniselves In 

tlii'se invaluable wiitings we find the only 
autlientic record of the early history of onr 
race, the purest strains of devotional poetry, 
aiid ihe sublime discourses of the Sun ot God. 
Their frequent peru-al was therefore especi- 
ally urged upon our younger members, who 
Were encouraged to seek lor the guidance of 
divine grace, by which alone we realize in 
our experience the saving truths they con- 
tain We believe it not the 

]'art of true wisdom to dwell upon defects, 
whetlier real or imaginary, in the sacred rec- 
ords, but rather to use them as they were 
intended, > for reproof, for correction, for in- 
struction in righteousness,' remembering that 
it is only through the operations of the Spir- 
it, of Faith upon our hearts, that they can be 
made availing to us in the promotion of our 
salvation." 

In regard to the original and present state 
of man, they differ somewhat from the Ortho- 
dox, as the following extracts show : " It is 
a scriptui-al doctrine that neither righteous- 
lies- nor unrighteousness can be transmitted 
by inheritance, but every man shall be judged 
according to his deeds Ani- 
mal propensities may be transmitted from 
parents to children, but the Scriptures do not 
teach that we inherit any guilt from Adam, 
or from any of our ancestors ; nor do we feel 
any compiniction fur their sins. The lan- 
guage of our Saviour clearly implies that lit- 
tle children are innocent: "for of such," he 
say-, "is the kingdom of heaven." 

The followers of Hicks are generally con- 
sidered Unitarians or Socinians, and yet, 
while they apparently do not regard Christ 
as the Second Terson in the Divine Trinity, 
nor attribute a saving efficacy to his death 
and sufferings, we are inclined to the belief 
that there is a considerable variety in the 
views of the individual members of the Soci- 
ety, and, perhaps, even among their leading 
or representative men on this point. Their 
'•summaries," and "advices" are exceeding- 
ly vague, and sometimes conflicting, on these 
points. The Rules of Discipline of the Phil- 
adelphia Yearly Meeting, say: "If any in 
membership with us shall blaspheme, or 
33* 



speak profanely of Almighty God, Christ 
Jesus or the Holy Spirit, he or she ought 
early to be tenderly treated with, for their iji- 
sti'uction, and the announcement of their un- 
derstanding, that they may experience repent- 
ance and forgiveness ; but should any, not- 
withstanding this brotherly labor, persist ;n 
their error, or deny the divinity of our Lord 
and Saviour, Jesus Christ, the immediate 
revelation of the Holy Spirit, or the authen- 
ticity of the Scriptures, as it is manifest they 
are not one in the fiiith with us, the monthly 
meeting where the party belongs, having ex- 
tended due care for the help and benefit of 
the individual without effect, ought to declare 
the same, and issue their testmiony accord- 
ingly." Samuel M Janney, author of the 
" History of Friends," and one of the leading 
writers of the Seceding party, thus defines 
their views in regard to Christ: "The most 
full and glorious manifestation of the divine 
Word, or Logos, was in Jesus Christ, the 
immaculate Son of God, who was miracu- 
lously conceived and born of a Virgin. In 
him, the manhood, or Son of Man was cn- 
tirtly subject to the divinity, 'ihe Word 
toolv riesh, or was manifested in the flesh. . 

The holy manhood of Christ, 

that is, the soul of him m whom the Holy 
Spirit dwelt witliout measure, is now, and 
a ways will be, the head or chief member of 
that spiritual body w hich is made up of the 
faithful seravnts of God, of all ages and 
nations. 'There is one God, and one Medi- 
ator between God and man, the man Christ 
Jesus.' As Moses was a mediator to ordain 
the legal dis^iensation, so Jesus Christ was, 
and is, the Mediator of the New Covenant ; 
first, to proclaim and exemplify it in the day 
of his outward advent, and secondly, through 
all time, in the ministrations of his Spirit. 
. . . . The great object of the Messiah's 
advent, is thus declared by himself: "To this 
end was I born, and for this cause came I 
into the world, that I should bear witness 
unto the truth. Every one that is of ihe 
truili, heareth my voice.' He could not bear 
witness to the truth, among that corrupt and 
perverse people, without suffering for it. He 
foresaw that they wouhl put him to death, 
and he went forward calmly doing his Fath- 
er's will, hading a life of self sacrifice, 
wounded for the transgressions of the peo- 
ple, baptized spiritually in suH'ering for them, 
and then finally enduiing, on the cross, the 
agonies of a lingering death, thus sealing his 
testimony with Ids blood. His obedience in 



546 



HISTOKT AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMIXATIONS. 



dnnkiiig the cup of suffering was acceptable 
to God, for ' he hath loved us, and hath given 
himself for us, an otlering and a sacritice to 
God, for a sweet smelling savor." It was to 
reconcile man to God, by removing the en- 
mity fiom man's heart, that Je^us Christ 
lived, and taught, and suffered, and for this 
purpose the Spirit of Christ is still manifest- 
ed as a Uedeemer from the bondage of cor- 
ruption It is the life of God, 

or spirit of Truth revealed in the soul, which 
purities and saves from sin. This life is 
sometime-; spoken of as the blood: for accord- 
ing to the Mosaic law, '■die bhod is the life.' 
And when .Jesus told the people, ' except ye 
eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink 
his blood ye have no life in you,' he alluded 
to the life and power of God that dwelt in 
him, and spake through him." How fiir the 
views thus stated agree with those generally 
held by the followers of Ellas Hicks, we can- 
not say. They would seem to stamp Mr. Jan- 
ney and his fellow believers as sympathizing 
with what is sometimes called the Evangelical 
wing of the Unitarians. In their other views, 
the Seceders do not differ materially from 
the Orthodox Friends. They have been, for 
some years past, quite active in humanitarian 
enterprises, being strongly anti-slavery, and 
h iving been active in the promotion of asy- 
lums and hospitals for the insane, the inebri- 
ate, the idiot, and foi- orphans, blind persons, 
and the aged and infirm. They had in 1>S7I), 
six Yearly Meeiings, and an estimated mem- 
bership of betweeir3.i,00l) and 40,000. Tliey 
have not done mui-h iu the way of establish- 
ing First Day Schools, but their boarding 
and high schools in New York, Philadelphia, 
Baltimore, and Richmond, Indiana, as well 
as their smaller scliools, are of very high 
character. Swarthmore College, 8 miles S. 
AV. of Philadelphia, is a well endowed and 
admirably managed institution, designed for 
300 pupils, ot' bolh sexes. They have two 
or three well conducted periodicals. 

III. Pi!Oiiiii:ssivE FiiinNDS. This is a 
religious society, organised in 18.53, at Ches- 
ter, Penn., in part as a result of a division in 
the Kennett Monthly Meeting, of (Hicksite) 
Friends. The division was caused by a dif- 
ference of opinion among the members of 
that meeting, in regard to the propriety of 
activity in measures of reform. It was or- 
ganized as the Pennsylvania Yearly Meeting 
of Progressive Friends, and not long aftei' 
other organizations in New York and Ohio, 
having similar objects in view, as well as 



individuals from Now England, New York' 
and the AVestern States, who sympathized 
with it, gradually drifted into a similar 
organization so far as to attend its Yearly 
Meetings. Mr. Oliver Johnson, formerly of 
the National Anti-Slavery Standard, and the 
Independent, who has been long identified 
with this movement, thus defines its charac- 
ter and principles : " The nevv Society open- 
ed its doors to all who recognize the equal 
brotherhood of the human family, without 
regard to sex, color, or condition, and who 
acknowledged the duty of defining and illus- 
trating their faith in God, not by assent to a 
creed, but by lives of personal purity, and 
works of beneficence and charity. It disa- 
vowed any intention or expectation of bind- 
ing its members together by agreement as to 
theological opinions, and declared that it 
would seek its bond of union in ' identity of 
object, oneness of spirit iu respect to the 
practical duties of life, the communion of soul 
with soul in a common love of the beautiful 
and true, and a common aspiration after 
moral excellence.' It disclaimed all discip- 
linary authority, whether over individual 
members or local associations ; it set forth no 
forms or ceremonies, and made no provision 
for the ministry, as an order distinguished 
from the laity ; it set its face against every 
form of ecclesiasticisra, and denounced as the 
acme of superstitious imposture, the claim of 
churches to hold an organic relation to 
God, and to speak by his authority, maintain- 
ing that such bodies are purely human, the 
repositories of no power save that rightly 
conferred upon them by the individuals of 
whom they are composed." AVith fo radical 
a platfoini, it is not a matter of surprise that 
the yearly gatherings of this Society have 
drawn together ultraists of all shades, the 
" come outers " of thirty years ago, Spiritual- 
ists, the advocates of female suflr.agc, and of 
all manner of jiracticable and impracticable 
reforms, and that while, in the company, were, 
many men of lofty purpose and the true mar- 
tyr spirit, there were others whose whole 
lives Imd been devoted to wild and fanatical 
theories m religions, politics, and social life. 
Generally these gatherings have been largely 
attended, but except a single local association 
at Longwood, near Hamorton, Penn., which 
have kept up for several years, a meeting on 
every First Day, and a First Day School for 
chihlrcn, and discuss freely questions of ethics, 
political economy, and religion at their meet- 
ings, but have never employed any religious 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DF.NOMINATIONS. 



547 



teiiclier. It is obviously impossible to give 
any estimate of the number of Progressive 
Friends, as their meetings are open to all 
wlio choose to come, and there is no enroll- 
ment of member-hip. 

IV. AVe arc inclined to place under this 
general liead, also, the SHAKERS, or as 
til' y style themselves, the Unitf.d Society 
OF Helievehs IV Christ's Second Ap- 
pearing, not because there is much in com- 
mon to them and the Societij of Friends now, 
but because in their origin they were mem- 
bers of that Society, and because their views 
of the influence, and inward teachings of the 
Holy Spirit, though carried to excess, have 
the same original basis. Attempts have 
been made to trace tlieir principles back to 
the Camisards or French prophets, and to 
the schoid of the prophets in Dauphiny 
(1C8S-170.'J), but these are so evidently an 
afterthought, as to be unworthj' of notice. 
About 1747, some members of the Society 
of Friends in the vicinity of JManchester, 
England, formed themselves into a distinct 
organization, of which James Wardley and 
Jane, his wife, were the leaders, and a Mr. 
and iSIrs. Lee were members. Ann Lee, a 
daugliter of the last named couple, born in 
17SG, and always seriously inclined, had 
married, in 17r)G, Aljraham Stanley, and in 
1758, she, with her husband, joined the asso- 
ciation. The religious exercises of this little 
coterie diflered but slightly from those of the 
other associations of Friends at that time. 
Tiiey were noticeable for greater and more 
decided physical manifestations than most, 
such as dancing, shouting, trembling, speak- 
ing with tongues, but these were common in 
that day, and it was oidy when the excite- 
ment was so great as to lead the magistrates 
and others to charge them with breaking the 
Sabbath, that the Wardlej-s, and Ann Lee 
and her family were fined and imprisoned. 
In 1770, Ann Lee, then 34 years of age, and 
to all appearance a womau of no exti aordin- 
ary talents or education, professed to have 
received, by a special manifestation of divine 
light, those revelations which made her the 
foundi'r of a new faith, and liave caused her 
followers ever since to regard her as an in- 
spired being, and to give her the name of 
Mother Ann. 

In 1774, Mother Ann, and nine of the 
more prominent members of the Society, un- 
der autiiority of a special revelation, emi- 
grated to America, and 8 of the number pro- 
ceeding up the Hudson, settled at Niskayuna 



(now Watervliet), seven miles from Albany, 
N. Y., a region then a wilderness. Here 
they remained for three or four years with- 
out any excitement, or considerable increase 
of their numbers. In 1770, a religious revi- 
val occurred at Xew Lebanon, Columbia Co., 
some thirty miles from Niskayuna, and was 
accompanied by those extraorduiary physical 
manifestations which a little later character- 
ized the great revivals in Kentucky and 
Tennessee. In the spring of 1780, some of 
those who had been most affected by these 
manifestations, visited Mother Ann at Water- 
vliet, and found in her revelations, as they 
believed, the explanation of their experiences. 
Led by their statements, others visited her, 
and the number of alherents to her doctrines 
began to increase rapidly, and continued to 
do so until some time after her death, which 
occurred in 1784. Among the revelations 
which she professed to have received was 
one directing that there should be a commu- 
nity of goods among her adherents, and an- 
other requiring their organization into one or 
more unitary households. In 1787, Joseph 
Jleacham, who had formerly been a Baptist 
preacher, and who was one of her earliest 
converts at Niskayuna, gathered her adher- 
ents into a settlement at New Lebanon, and 
established there the first unitary household 
on a large scale, and with com])lete conunu- 
nit_v of goods. He was an able administrator, 
and in five years he had organized 1 1 Shaker 
settlements, in New York, Massachusetts, 
Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Maine. 
No others were established until 180.5, when, 
after some years effort, four were established 
in Ohio, and 2 in Kentucky. All are on the 
same moilel as that of tlie New Lebanon 
Community, regarded from tlie first as the 
mother liou-e. Each settlement consists of 
from two to eight families or households. 
Each family occupies a large dwelling-house, 
divided through the center by wide halls, and 
capable of containing from 30 to 150 in- 
mates, the men occupying one end and the 
women the other. Beside these, there are 
storehou-es, workshops, dairy houses, a 
school house for the children they adopt, and 
a meeting-house or hall. Considerables tracts 
of land are attached to each settlement, rang- 
ing from seven to ten acres to each member. 
They believe idleness to be sinful, and 
hence every member who is able to work is 
em])loyed in some useful labor. They culti- 
vate flowers, medicinal herbs and roots, 
fruits, vegetables, and collect garden and 



548 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



flower seeds, dry and pre-erve fruits, put up 
dried herbs and roots, and make medicinal 
extracts. They have also extensive manu- 
factories connected with their settlements. 
Brooms, wooden and willow ware, some de- 
scriptions of cloths, flannels, etc., etc., are pro- 
duced by them. Their schools are of high 
grade and abundantly supplied with the best 
text books, and apparatus. Their doctrines 
as stated by their chief elder, F. W. Evans, 
are these : " God is dual, there being an 
Eternal Father and Mother in the Deity, 
the heavenly parents of all angelical and 
human beings. The revelation of God is 
progressive ; in the first or antediluvian pe- 
riod of human history, God was only known 
as a Great Spirit ; in ihe second or Jewish 
period, he was revealed as the " I am that I 
am," or Jehovah ; in the third cycle, Jesus 
made him known as a Father; and in the 
last cycle, commencing with 1770, God is re- 
vealed in the character of Mother, an Eter- 
nal Wolher, the bearing spirit of all the ere 
ation of God. This last is regarded by them 
as a revelation of God's affectional nature, a 
manifestation of the divine love and tender- 
ness. They believe Christ to be also dual, 
male and female, a supra-numdane being, 
and, at his first appearing, the cumniuuicator 
of the new revelation to Je-us, who, in their 
system, was a divinely instructed, pure, and 
perfect man, and who, in consequence of his 
divine anointing, became .Jesus Christ. In 
the new revelation maue to Jesus, these 
truths were first brought to light ; the im- 
mortality of the soul, and the resurrection of 
the soul, whiili \\vy define a-! the quickening 
of the germ of a new life, after the death of 
the first, Adamic, or generative life. 

All who marry or are given in marriage, 
or who indidge in the earthly prncreative 
relation, they call ''the children of this 
world," and followers of the first Adam ; 
they do not condemn them for living in the 
marital relation so long as they confine its 
use simply to tlie purpose of procreation, the 
production of offspring being, in their view, 
the only justification of sexual intercourse. 
But Shakers, as Christians, hold that they 
are called to lead a spiritual and holy life, 
not only free from all lust and carnal sexual 
indulgrnce, but even to rise above the order 
o. natural and innocent human reproduction, 
being themselves the "children of the resur- 
rection," and as such daily dying to the gen- 
erative nature, as .Jesus and the apostles 
died to it, and thus becoming new creatures, 



who are able to comprehend the " nivsterit s 
of God." Among the other doctrines in 
which, as they believe, '• Chri>t instructs 
Jesus," were, human brother hood, and its de- 
velopment in a eomnuuiily of goods ; non- 
resistance ; non-participation in any earthly 
government, and the necessity of a life of 
celibacy and virgin pin-ity to a perfect (. hris- 
tianity. 

The second appea ing of the Christ "with- 
out sin unio salvation," they believe took place 
through jMother Ann I.ee, in 177(1. She, "by 
strictly obeying the light revealed in her, be- 
came righteous, even as .Jesus was righteous. 
She acknowledged Jesus Christ as ht r Head 
and I>ord, and fbi med the same character as a 
spiritual woman, that he did as a spiritual 
man." The necessity for a second appear- 
ing of Christ in the female form, rchu'led 
from the dual nature of Christ, and of the 
Deity. " Still it was not Jesus, nor Ann, 
but the principles already stated, v\hich were 
the foundation of ihe Second Chiistian 
Church. Their importance is deiived fiom 
the fact of their lieiiig the fii'st man and the 
first woman perfectly ide'ntif.ed vith the 
principles and spirit of Chrisi." Tlis sec- 
ond appearing of Christ they believe to be 
the true resurrection state, and re] uiiiate a 
[ihysical resurrection as rc|iugnant to science, 
reason, and Scripture. AVe have iiolieed 
their four cycles of human religious prigress; 
they also believe that there are four heavens 
and four hells, the first three of which are 
still places of probation. The first heaven 
and hell were for the good and wicked i f 
the antediluvians, and the "spirits in pris- 
on," to whom Christ preached in the inter- 
val between his death and resurrection, wi re 
the wicked of that cycle. Gehenna is the 
name they give to the second bell, to which 
are consigned wicked Jews and heathen v\ho 
died before the coming of Jesus ; and the 
second heaven is paradise, where the thief 
on the cross had the promise of going. The 
third heaven is that of the church of the fii st 
appearing of Christ, to which Paul was 
caught up. Higher and moie glorious than 
tho.se which ];receded it. it is still not tl e 
home of perfect souls. The hell of the thiid 
cycle is a place of loiment for tlose who did 
not believe iu. nor fobow Christ, according 
to tiie light of tlio-e days. The fourtli hea- 
ven is now forming ; in it .Jesus and Mother 
Ann reside, and to it will all flu se go who 
have resisted teniptat'on until their evil lusts 
and propensities are all desti'oyed, and the 



niSTORr AND PROGRESS OP THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



549 



life of the generative, natural man is dead in 
I them, for such are boin of God, and cannot 
sill. No one but Jesus had ever attained to 
thi-! previous to the second appearing of 
Christ in Ann Lee. It is the Iieaven of hea- 
v.^iis, and to it will be gathered not only all 
wlio aci'ept the doctrines of the Shakers in 
this world, and attaiu to the new birth, but 
all those in the lower heavens and hells who 
shall yet accept them ; and when tlieir deci- 
sion is finally made, the lower heavens and 
hells, and the earth will be destroyed, and 
only the fourth heaven for the true believers, 
and the fourth hell for the finally impenitent, 
wid remain. P^ach cycle has had its own 
Holy Spirit, the spirilual efllux from the 
Church in the heaven of that cycle to the in- 
habitants of earth at the time. They hold 
to oral confession of sins to God in the )ires- 
ence of one or two witnesses, as essential to 
the reception of the power to forsake sin. 
They believe that the second dispensation 
(ihat of J\Ioses) was intended to teach by 
revelation, God's truth pertaining to the 
earth life chiefly, and they regard the princi- 
jiles of the Levitical laws, in regard to food 
and agriculture, etc., as binding to-day as 
when they were given. All physical disease 
they say, is the result of some physiological 
sin against the teachings of Moses, either di- 
rectly or indirectly. They believe in the 
j)Ower of their members to heal ph3'sical dis- 
eases, by means of prayer and the regulation 
of the diet. 

The liible they regard as a record of 
divine angelic ministrations to man, and as a 
more or less imperfect account of the reli- 
gious experience and history of the Jews. 
They believe that the mental and spiritual 
condition of the seers and projihets whose 
prophecies are i herein recorde<l, has mateii- 
ally modified the revelation, and that it has 
been still farther weakened and impaired by 
the imperfections of the translators ; the book 
of Revelations having suffered less than any 
other from these causes, inasmuch as it is 
utterly incomprehensible to the generative 
man, and could not be comprehended even 
by the spiritual until the second appearing of 
Christ (through Mother Ann Lee), as that 
was the only key to unlock its mysteries. 
The revelations of Ann Lee and of others of 
their elders who have been inspired to speak 
the wo]<ls of God, they regard as important 
and bind ng on them. 

Their mode of worship is peculiar. The 
two sexes are usually ranged in ranks facing 



each other, the front ranks being from six to 
ten feet apart. First there is usually an ad- 
dress by one of the elders, " who is moved to 
speak" on some doctrinal subject, or some 
practical virtue, usually closing with a recital 
of the exalted privileges which they enjoy 
over the " world's people ; " after this they sing 
a hymn, and then form in circles around a band 
of male and female singers, and commence 
marching or dancing, and when, as is some- 
times the case, the excitement and fervor 
reaches its height, their motions, though 
retaining the order and rhythm of the dance, 
become inconceivahly rapid. At these sea- 
sons they believe themselves to be under the 
influence of spirit agencies, both of angels, 
and the departed members of their own 
brotherhood, who have attained in the other 
life to a greater freedom from the generati\e 
nature and order, and a more complete res- 
urrection of the soul, than those who are still 
in the body can reach. Their ministry are 
very few in nundjers. Two of their most 
judicious and experienced brethren and the 
same numl)er of sisters are chosen to have 
the oversight of from one to three or four 
vSocieties ; so that there are only twenty or 
twenty-four of these ministers in all. P^ach 
family in every Society has also four elders, 
viz., two brethren, and two sisters, who ha\e 
charge of it, and the temporalities are cared 
for by two deacons, and two deaconesses. 

There are three classes of members: 1. 
The novitiates, who unite with the Society in 
religious faith and principle, but do not enter 
into the temporal connection with it. Believ- 
ers of this class are not controlled by the 
Society as to their property, children, or 
families. 

2. The Juniors, who join one of the families 
of the Society, and unite in its labors and re- 
ligious exercises, but who have not relin- 
quished their propert}- to the Society, or if 
they have given the Society the improve- 
ment of it, may resume it at any time, 
though w'ithout interest; and 3d, the Senior 
class, who, after a full and complete experi- 
ence of the Shaker S3'stem and failh, have 
deliberately consecrated themselves, their ser- 
vices, and all their property to the Society 
never to be reclaimed by themselves or their 
legal heirs. All who retain their connection 
with the Shaker Communities are amply 
provided for in health, in sickness, and in old 
age. The Shaker Communities are all thrifty 
and have acquired by their industry, consid. 
erable, and some of them very large amount^ 



550 



HISTOKT AND PROGRESS OP THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



of property. They had. at tlic late-t reports, 
18 societies, about (5, >0() full members (Sen- 
iors), and, |)erlmps, 1,000 more juniors and 
noviliates, besides a considerable number 
(nearly three thousand, it is said) of children, 
orphans, and others, whom they have adopt- 
ed, and whom ihey carefully educate. They 
are thrifty, industrious citizens, and in all 
the relations of life very exemplary. 



IX. UNITAS FRATRUM, OR MORAVIANS. 
The Moravians, ok Unity op the 
Brethren ( Unitas Fratrum ), as they style 
their religious body, originated with the Bo- 
hemian and Moravian churches of the 9th 
century, but did not assume their present 
organization till 14")7, although they identify 
themselves with the followers of John Huss 
more than half a century earlier. They were 
almost crushed out by the persecutions of 
Ferdinand II, in 1G21 and the following 
years, but through the fostering influence of 
the writings and teachings of Amos Comen- 
ius, one of their bishops, they were enabled 
to maintain a secret existence. About 1720 
a Moravian exile. Christian David, began to 
address them earnestly, and a revival ensued. 
In 1722. two families, subsequently followed 
by others, made their escape from IMoravia, 
and, after a journey of eleven days, reached 
the estate of Count Zinzendorf, a young Sax- 
on nobleman, and were cordially received. 
The Count became thencefortli their leader, 
and in five years had 300 Moravians on his 
estate. They had built a village on the 
Hutberg, called Ilerrnhut. In 17o5, tliey 
had obtained the Episcopal succession of the. 
Unitas Fratrum, and in 174',) they were ac- 
knowledged by the British Parliament as an 
Episcopal Church, ami encouraged to settle 
in North America. They accordingly foun- 
ded several settlements in the American Col- 
onies, and engaged with great zeal in mission- 
ary labors among the Indians, in which they 
were very succesful. They also founded 
missions in Greenland and elsewhere, many 
years before the other Protestant denomina- 
tions had engaged in missionary eHbrt. 
Their plan of " settlements " or villages in 
which no person could be a j)ermanent 
householder unless he or she was a member 
of the Church, as well as their unitary house- 
hold of single men and youths, of single sis- 
ters and young maidens, and of widows, each 
presided over by elders of their own sex, 
their very rigid rules in regard to marriage, 



and their exclusive and earnest devotion to 
the missionary work, while it kept their num- 
bers small, greatly contributed to their pu- 
rity of faith and doctrine. At the period of 
the Revolution, tlicy probably did not num- 
ber, of full communicants, m the United 
State.s, more than o,0U0 souls, and, perhaps, 
not so many. They had, beside, their sev-- 
eral thousand converts among the Indians, 
who remained faithful to their religious prin- 
ciples, and a considerable number of whom 
were martyrs to their fa'th. The distinctive 
settlements, and the brethren's, sisters', and 
widows' houses are now entirely given up in 
the United States. They have two prov- 
inces, a Northern, and a Southern, the head- 
quarters of the northern being at Bethlehem, 
Penn., and of the soulhern, at Salem, N. C. 
They have also large boarding schools, and 
are predominant in the population at Beth- 
lehem, Nazareth, and Litiz, Penn., and at 
Salem, N. C. 

The Moravians are thoroughly Evangelical 
in their doctrines, and while they sympathize 
most heartily and fully with the Evangelical 
churches in all the great cardinal doctrines 
of scriptural Christianity, they regard it as 
their special mission to make the principal 
theme of their j)reaching and teaching, the 
life, merits, acts, words, sufferings, and death 
of the Saviour ; considering the revelation of 
God in Christ as intended to be the most 
beneficent revelation of the Deity to the 
human race. In thus preaching and teach- 
ing, they carefully avoid entering into any 
theoretical disquisition on the mysterious es- 
sence of the Godhead, simply adhering to the 
words of Scripture. Admitting the Sacred 
Scriptures as the only source of Divine Rev- 
elation, they nevertheless believe that the 
Spirit of God continues to lead those who 
believe in Christ, into all truth ; not by re- 
vealing new doctrines, but by teaching those 
who sincerely desire to learn, daily better to 
understand and apply the truths which the 
Scriptures contain. They believe that to 
live conformably to the gospel, it is essential 
to aim in all things to fulfil the will of God. 
Even in their temporal concerns, they en- 
deavor to ascertain the will of the Lord. 
They do not, indeed, expect any miraculous 
manifestation of his will, but only endeavor 
to test the purity of their purposes by the 
light of the Divine Word. Nothing of con- 
sequence is done by them, as a Society, until 
such an examination has taken place : and 
in cases of dilliculty, the question is decided 



HISTORir AXD PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



551 



by 101, lO avoid the undue preponderance ot 
intiueutial men. ai.d in the liuniljle hope that 
God will guide them rightly by its decision, 
where their limited understanding fails them. 
In regard to their general, doctr.nal belief, 
the following summary, revised and put foitli 
b}' tlieir General >Synod in ISGi), is their 
most authoritative statement: 

" We regard every truth revealed to us in 
the Word of God as an invaluable treaMire, 
and sincereh' believe that the loss of life it- 
self would be a trifling evil corajiared with 
ihe denial of any one of them. But most 
especially is this the ease with that truth 
which the Renewed Church of the Brethren 
has ever regarded as her chief doctrine, an 
inestimable jewel, which, by God's grace, she 
still holds fast : 
'That whosoe'er believeth in Christ's redemption, 
May fiiiil free <:race and a complete exemption 
From serving sin.* 

From this great truth, we deduce the fol- 
lowing points of' doctrine most essential to 
salvation : 

a. The doctrine of the total deprai-iti/ of Inr 
tnan nature, — that there is no health in us — 
and that, since the fall, we have no power to 
help ourselves out of the bondage of sin. 

h. The doctrine of the love of God the 
Father, who 'has chosen us in Christ, before 
the foundation of the world,' and who ' so 
loved the world that he gave his oidy begot- 
ten Son, that whosoever believeih on Him 
should not perish, but have everlasting life." 

c. The doctrine of the real Godhead, and 
the real manhood of Jesus Christ ; that God, 
the Creator of all things, was manliest in the 
flesh, and has reconciled the world unto him- 
self — that ' He is before all things, and by 
Ilim all things exist.' 

d. The doctrine of tite atoj^ement and satis- 
faction of Jcsvs Christ for us ; that he 'was 
delivered for our offences, and was raised 
again for our justification,' and tliat in liis 
merits alone we find forgiveness of sins and 
peace with God. 

e. The doctrine of the Holy Ghost and his 
gracious operations ; that it is he who works 
in us the knowledge of sin, faith in Jesus, 
and the witness that we are the children of 
God, and that without him we cannot know 
the truth. 

/. The doctrine of the fruits of faith; that 
it must show itself as an active principle, by 
a willing obedience to God's commandments, 
flowing from love and gratitude, and that 



genuine taith will ever be thus distinguisha- 
ble." 

In their church polity, the Moravians have 
points of similarity to several other denomi- 
nations ; they have bishops, presbyters, and 
deacons like the Protestant Episcopal Church, 
but their bishops are not diocesan, but are 
aj>pointed for the whole church ; they hold 
to Episcopal succession, which they derive 
through the Bohemian and Moravian 
churches, and which, if apostolical, comes 
through Paul in^tead of Peter ; but their 
bishops possess no governing power by vir- 
tue of their bishopiic; it is the General Sy- 
nod and its boards that govern, and the bish- 
ops derive their power, if they have any, 
from their connection with some of these 
boards; their presbjters or elders are preach- 
ers and pastors; their deacons are young 
ministers and mi-sionaries, who can adminis- 
ter the sacraments after receiving their first 
ordination. They have a liturgy consisting 
of a litany, forms for infant and adult bap- 
tism (they are Pa:do-baptisls), the sacrament 
of the Lord's Supper, the rites of confirma- 
tion and ordination, the burial of the dead, 
and marriage. Love-feasts, the apostolical 
offopec, are celebrated, and once a year, or 
oftener, there is the rite of " washing the 
saints' feet." Their General Synod, always 
held at Bethelsdorf, in Saxony, meets only 
once in ten or twelve years. It has cogniz- 
ance of the whole aflairs of the " Unity of the 
Brethren ; " but in most matters, local 
Boards of Elders of the several provinces, 
have control in the interim of the sessions of 
the Synod. Each province has its synod, 
and its Provhicial Elders' Conference, and 
these, and not the Bishops, manage all mat- 
ters connected with the Church in their ])ro- 
vince. The American province is divided 
into two districts, a northern and a southern. 
They are still very active in the missionary 
work, and have, in addition to their mission- 
aries among the heathen, nearly a hundred 
of their ministers who are serving in Luth- 
eran and Reformed churches. In these 
churches, there are many thousands who are 
almost as closely affiliated to them as their 
own members. Every church is divided 
into three cl.asses : the Catechumens, compris- 
ing the children of the brethren, and adult 
converts ; the Communicants, who are admit- 
ted to the Lord's Supper, and are regarded 
as members of the church ; and TIte ferfect, 
consisting of those who have pertevered for 



552 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DCNOMIXATIONS. 



a long time in a (.'ourse of true piety. From 
tliis last class are chosen in eveiy church by 
a |)lu -ality of votes, the elders, who are from 
three to e\'j:ht in luimlier. These elders are 
of lioth sexes, and are assistants to the i)as- 
tors, in the fjeneral church woik. 

The latest statistics we have cf the Mora- 
' v'au Church are only to the close of IbOS. 
Th-y had then live bishops, one of whom has 
since deceased ; CO ministers ; 54 co.igrega 
tions; 0,7G8 commiiuicaiits ; 11.855 mem- 
bers, incliidinj; baptized children, etc. ; 623 
Sunday School teachers, and 5.1)59 Sunday 
School scholars. Tiii'ir boarding schools 
have increased to six by the addition of one 
at Cha-ka, JNIinn., aiid one in Bartholomew 
Co., Ind. Tliey have a theological school at 
Bethlehem, Penn. Their only periodical in 
the United States, T/ie Moravian., is publish- 
ed at Bethlehem. There is no statement of 
the portion of the missionary work, or the 
missionary contributions from the American 
Moravian churches, the mission work being 
conducted from the headquarters in Saxony. 
Tlie entire contributions of the whole church 
for missionary purposes, (which had 15,170 
communicants in 1808) was about $125,000. 



X. UyiTAKIANS AND UNIVERSALISTS. 

I. UNITARIANS. The rejection of the 
doctrine of the Trinity, and the subordina- 
tion of the Son to the Father, with the af- 
ceptance of the otiier docti-ines which have 
Ireen aHiiiatc<l with it, has existed in one 
firm or another since the second or third 
century. At first it was Ariaiiism. contend- 
ing that the expression, " on y begotten Son 
of the Father," implies a beginning and a 
subordination of the Son ; this view, thougii 
maintained even to the ear'y part of the pres- 
ent century in some quarters, gave place g' n- 
erally, to the slightly modified theories of 
Fau-tu< and Laelius Socinus, in the lOtli cen- 
tury, and these, tiiough still prevalent on the 
roiuinent of Europe, and largely held in the 
last century in England, by Priestley and his 
followers, have in their turn been succeeded 
by the Uni'arianism of Channing and his 
suocessors. Priestley's views, founded on the 
priiici|)les of the sensational pluloso|)hv, and 
acci'ptinj; religious truths on llu; evidence of 
miracle, but limiting the number of those 
t"u lis to the canlinal docirines, the unity of 
God, and the general re>urrection, found 
some credence in the American Colonies 
about the middle of the List century. Priest- 



ley himself visited Philadelphia, in 1770. 
Emlyn's ' Inquiry into the Scripture Ac- 
count of Jesus Chri t," was published in 
Bo-ton, in 1750, and there was a gradual 
lapsing of veiy many of the clergy of ,Ma-i- 
sachusets mto Ari:ni views in the latter part 
of the eigliteenth century, the result in jiart, 
doubtless, of ihat loo-eness of doctrine which 
grew out of the adoption of the Half way 
Covenan'. Toward the close of the century, 
the tone of religious society in Boston was 
very generally Unitarian, repudiating the 
Divinity of Christ, and the necessity of an 
atoning sacrifice, but declining to enter into 
]iarticulars in regard to the exact stains of 
Chrir-t in their re igious system. In 180.5, a 
Unitarian was elected professor of divinity in 
Harvard University. But as yet, there was 
no separaiion, and no lines were drawn, 
among the Congregationalists of Massachu- 
setts, liotween Orth' dox and Unitarian. The 
separation came in 1815 and the following 
years, when the eloquent Channing avowed 
liis Unitarian views, and led oftSfrora 15,t)()0 
to '2<i,OiiO members of the Congregational 
churches of Massachusetts, or nearly 200 
congregations. Channing was not an ultra- 
ist in Ills views, and his plan of h itlulrawing 
interest from points of controversial divinity, 
subordinating v- ligious theories to the reli- 
gious life, and bringing into marked promi- 
nence the spiritual eleiuenls of luinian nature, 
and in this way initiating the practice of try- 
ing religious systems by the instincts and 
sentiments of the soul, was exceedingly at- 
tiactive to those restless spirits who had so 
long been in search of some taith which could 
satisfy their aesthetic nature, and quiet their 
perturbed spirits. But Channing's success- 
ors went farther than he, and many of them 
in a ditt'ereut direction. 

It is hard to define the Unitarian bidief, 
because it is not, in any sense, a unity. 
Wh le its adherents have some |)o>!tive 
l>o:nls of belief, in which, however, they 
widely disagree, tln-ir tenets are better ex- 
pressed by a series of negatives, than by pos- 
itive declarations, confessidus, or creeds. 
Tliey agree in holding to the Unity of God, 
.•md the subordiiiatidu of the Son of God; 
but while some of them do not attempt to 
define his real jiosition in their religious sys- 
tem, others hold to e\ery phase of beliftf 
from those who accept the Trinity in a phil- 
oso| Ideal sense, but reject the deity of Christ, 
!o iho: e who hold him to have been mere 
man, a v>eal- and peacetible man, or a myth. 



HISTORY AND P )GK!:SS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



553 



A CDiisiik'ralile numlier. though not a m;ijor- 
ity, believe him to be a super-angelic being, 
divinely eeniniissioned to l)e the mediator be- 
tween <ji)(l and man ; others hold that he 
was a teacher, the projJiet and founder of a 
new religious system ; the major part regard 
him iis sinless and pure in his teachings and 
life, while .1 not inconsiderable minority class 
him with Moses, Zartusht, Gotama, Moham- 
med, and Swedenbcirg, as a reformer, but by 
no means an inliidible one. They generally 
regard the Holy Spirit as an intiuence, while 
some agree in rejecting,' in whole or in jiart, 
the doctrines of man's depravity and moral 
inability, but in regard to the atonement, 
they range all the way from a modified con- 
ception of Christ's otlice as a Redeemer and 
Saviour, to the opinion that his whole func- 
tion was d scharged in his cilice of teacher, 
exemplar, or refoi'mer. A'ery few Unitari 
ans hold to the doctrine of eternal punish- 
ment of the wicked, but here again their 
views vary from those who believe in a pro- 
tracted period of retribution, to those who 
hold to a speedy restoration, or tlio?e who 
entertain the dogma that the only retribu- 
t'on ibr sin is in this life. In regaid to the 
inspiration of the Scriptures, there is a simi- 
lar diversity of belief Chamiing, Andrews, 
Korton, and the early American Unitarian-;, 
like their English and Polish brethren, held 
to the |)lenary inspiration of the Scriptures, 
and some of them wi'ote ably and eloquentlj^ 
in d<d'ence of the doctrine ; but the ''Ad- 
vanced Unitarians" of the present day, "do 
nol appeal to the .Scriptmcs as inspired and 
infallible oracles, but discuss religious ques 
tions on grounds of piiilo ophy alone. Re- 
garding the Hible as the nio-t interesting and 
valual>le part of the world's literature, they 
seek in it illustrations of spiritual laws, but 
not tinal statements of moral and religious 
truth. To soine, the Vedas and Shastas of 
the Hindoos, the Zendavesta, the Koran, 
and the revelations of Swedenborg, are of 
nearly equal authenticity and inspiration with 
the Bible, 

Unitarianism can hardly be said to have 
any distinctive ordinances or sacraments. 
Tlie churches which tirst separated from 
Trinitarian Congregationalism, recjuiied bap- 
tism both of infants and adidts, and especi- 
ally of the latter, but it had lost its signifi- 
cance with their clianged views of the atone- 
ment, and now infant baptism is wliolly aban- 
doned, and adult baptism only maintained in 
a few churches on sentimental groui.ds. The 



same may be said of the sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper. \\ here practiced, it is only 
as a means of cultivatii g the religious life, 
and not as a sacrament at all. In iheir 
clunxh ])olity, they are Congregationalists, 
with, perhaps, s<'mewliat more indepeudi ncy 
than the Orthodox Congregalionalists. Some 
of their churches have adoiited a sort of lit- 
urgy, and maintain a vesper ser\ice of a 
musical and devotional character. They 
have, within the past filteen or twenty jears, 
maniliested an increased spirit of propagand- 
ism, disseminating t hanning's woiks, ai;d 
other Unitarian works ]iublished bj' the 
American Unitai'ian Association, and con- 
ducting some Home and Foreign missionarj- 
operations through their denominational or- 
ganizations, '1 hey have given increased at- 
tention to the (iromolion of education, and 
have maintained among their clergymen that 
high reputation for elegant belles-lettres at- 
taiimients, and rhetorical ability, which have 
characterized them from the first. They 
liave planted Unitarian Societies in most of 
the large cities tiiroughout the countrj', and 
though their congregations are neither nu- 
merous nor large, they have collected in them 
a considerable lumiber of men of line culture 
and a'Sthetic tastes. Still Unitarianism 
proper cnn hardly be said to floinish out of 
New England, haidly, indeed, out of Massa- 
chusetts. Its adherents there and elsewhere 
deserve credit for their active himianitarian 
etTorts. In rescuing vagrant and vicious 
children from the evil uifiuence to which 
they are exposed, in caring for the aged and 
infirm, the sick and homeless, and especially 
for their efforts in behalf of the sick and 
wounded soldiers of our late war, in connec- 
tion with the United States Sanitary Com- 
mission, and their earnest loyalty, the Uni- 
tarians are deserv ng of all honor. 

The Unitarians have under their control 
three colleges, viz : Harvard University, 
Cambridge, Mass. ; Antioch College, Yellow 
Springs, Ohio, and Huiuboldt College, Hum- 
boldt, Iowa. They have also three theologi- 
cal or Divinity Schools; viz: the Cambridge 
Divinity School, wiih 5 professors, and SO 
students; the Hoston School for the j\linis- 
try, Boston, with 12 instruc ors, and 23 stu- 
dents; and the Meadville Theological School, 
with 8 professors and 29 students. They had 
also one nearly organized at Chicago, previ- 
ous to the great fire. 

They had. in 1870, five periodicals : two 
monthlies, '•Oldaitd Xcii;" and the Monthly 



554 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OP THE DIFFERENT DFNOMINATIONS. 



Seliffious Ma'iazlne ; one semi-moutlil_y, the 
Suiidaii School Gazette, and two weelilies. 
The Christian Reyisler, and The Liberal 
Christian. Theii. statistics in 1870, were : 
one National Conference, 347 societies, 39(3 
ministers, of wliom 148 were not in the. pas- 
torate. These societies represent it is be- 
lieved, from 30,000 to 40,000 members, and 
an aillii-rent popnlation of 60,000 to iS;i.000. 
Tlie American Unitarian Association, wliich 
publishes denominational books and aids 
Unitarian edu.'ational institutions, has an 
annual income of $100,000 or over. They 
have four or five mission stations in India, 
also aided by this Association. There are 
Sunday Schools attiiched to many of the 
societies, but no general statistics of tliem 
are published. In most of the cities there 
are Young Men's Christian Unions, with 
libraries and reailing rooms attached. 

II. UNI VERS ALISTS. Though entirely 
distinct in their origin, and giving special 
prominence to a dogma which the Unitari- 
ans keep partially iu the background, there 
is really very little ditference in the doctrinal 
belief of Unitarians and Universalists. At 
first they appealed to diiferent •classes of so- 
ciety ; the Unitarians liaving among their 
adherents, espeii.dly in Massarhusetts, a large 
proportion of the relined and s<diolarly class, 
and their discourses being models of graceful 
rhetoric, while the Universalists gathered 
intD their congregations very considerable 
numbers of working men, sharp aud ready 
reasoners, but with no great amount of cul- 
ture or refinement, and their preachers i ulii- 
vated the power of rough and ready declara- 
tion rather than the graces of oratory. There 
had been very few, if any, acknowledged 
Universalists in the American Colonies pri- 
or to 1770, though undoubtedly some (U'omi- 
nent theologians iiad rather iioped than be- 
lieved in the final restoration of tbo,se who 
had die 1 unpenitent. In that year, however. 
John Murray, who had been an English 
^Vesleyau preacher, but had become a con- 
vert to Universalist doctrines, as taught by 
one James Uelly, came over to America, and 
lauded in New Jersey. He soon went to 
Mas-achnsetts .and commenced a .series of 
it neiant journeys tiirough the states, preach- 
ing his views. At first, he did not make 
raauy converts, and it was not until 1779 
that the first Universalist Society was organ- 
ized, in Glouce-iter, Mass. In 17H1, Rev. 
Elhaiian Winchester, a Baptist clergyman of 
Philadelphia, avowed his belief ia the final 



I restoration of the wicked to h.appiness and 
heaven, and oi-ganized a church of Kestoia- 
tionists, in that city. From that time the 
Univer-alists began to increase, their growth 
being promoted by the very strong o])position 
manifested towards them. In 1791, Rev. 
Ilosea Ballon, who had also been a Baptist 
minister, espoused the views of Murray, and 
advocate<l them with great vigor and earnest- 
ness. The growth of the denomirjation has 
been steady and considerably rapid during 
the present century. The most full and sat- 
isfactory exposition of the doctrines of the 
Universalists we have ever seen is that given 
hy Rev. T. B. 'Ihayer, one of their clergy- 
men, in the New American Cyclnpajdia. Vol. 
XV, pp. 834, 835. It is as follows : I. They 
believe that God is infinite in all his porfec- 
lions, creating man with the fixed purpcse 
that the existence he was about to bestow 
should prove a final and everlasting blessing; 
that foreseeing all the temptations, trans- 
gressions, and stru.igles of man, he shaped 
his govermnent, laws, and penalties witli ex- 
press reference to these emergencies, and 
adapted the spiritual forces to the overcom- 
ing of all evil ; that, being almighty, he can 
convert and save a world of sinners as easily 
as he convi'rted and saved Saul of Tarsus, 
or Matthew the jjublican, and without any 
more violation of free agency in one case 
than in the other. They also believe in the 
perfection of divine justice, and affirm, on 
this ground, that God would- not impose on 
finite beings a law inlinite iu its demands ^nd 
penaltie- ; but that Ix ing perfec ly just, he 
will deal with ail men according to their works, 
whether good or bad. 

II. They uniformly reject the doctrine of 
the Trinitv, giving to Christ the second i)lace, 
and making him subordinate to the Father. 
They believe that he is gifted with spirit 
and i>ower above all other intelligences ; that 
he is " God manifest in the fiesh," i. e. that 
God has displayed in him the biightness of 
his glory, and the express image of his per- 
son, as in no other being tabernacled in 
flesh ; that he was sent of God to be the 
Saviour of the world and that lie will actu- 
ally save it, because God woidd not ofli'r, 
nor would Christ acccjit, a missicni which 
both knew wouhl end in failure ; therefore, 
they say, the work of redemption will be 
thorongii and universal. 

III. They believe that man was and is cre- 
ated upright, but liable to sin ; that trans- 
gression comes not out of any original cor- 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OP Tilt: DIKFIiliKNT UENOMINATIUNS. 



555 



ruplion of lieart, tniu-mittetl Irom Adam; 
but out of iiiiiorance ami unbelief': that all 
men are formed, as Adam was, in the moral 
imaire i.f God ; and that this ima"ft tiiounh 
it may be disfigured liy sm, can never be 
wholly Lst. Faith and lepeneration remove 
the stains and defilements of sin, and renew 
or reform the soul in the divine lilieness. 

IV. They believe the new birth to be that 
thorough change of iieart whieh takes place 
when a man, wrought upon b)' divine grace, 
forsakes his sins, or turns from his foimer 
life of wickedness and indifference, toward 
God and the Saviour, and is drawn into fel- 
lowship with the IIol_v Spirit, and thus quick- 
ened into new spiritual vitality, consecrates 
himself into a life of active goodness and 
piety. Tlie new birth is not supernatural, 
but the result of appointed means suitably 
improved. The Holy Spirit blesses the use 
of these means, and moves upon the heart of 
the siiuier, enconr.iging, comforting, assisting, 
sanctifying. They do not believe in instan- 
taneous regeneration, though tljey allow that 
there may be a turning point in the life of 
every man when his attention is specially 
direc;ed to religion. Conversion is only the 
commencement of religious eflbrt. 

V. Tliey teach that salvation is no., shel- 
ter nor safety, nor escape from present or 
future punishment, it is inward and spirit- 
ual, and not from an_y outward evil, but de- 
liverance from error, unbehef, sin, the tyr- 
anny of the flesh and its hurtful lusts, info 
the liberty and blessedness of a holy life, and 
supreme love to God :ind man. This is an 
important doctrinal and practical point with 
Uuiver.-alists, and is con^tantly enforced in 
their preaching and writings. They urge 
on all to seek salvation, not from lite tor- 
ments of a future hell, but from the present 
captivity of sin. In reply to the objection 
that millions die in sin, in pagan ignorance, 
and unbehef, they answer that no one is 
wholly saved in this life, but that all men are 
saved, in a greater or less degree, after deatli, 
and assert that the power of L'hri^t over the 
soul docs not cease with the death of the 
body, but that he continues the work of en- 
lightenment and redemption, till he surrend- 
ers the kingdom to the Father, which does 
not tnka place till after the resurrection is 
comj)lete. 

VI. The resurrection is not merely a 
physical, but a moral and spiritual change. 
It is not only clothing the soul with an in- 
corruptible body, but it is an anastasis, a 



raising up, an exaltation of the whole being 
into the power and glory of the heavenly; 
for 'as we have borne the image of t:.e earthy 
we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.' 
It is a change, they say, by which we be- 
come as the angils, and are 'children of 
God, being (or because we are) children of 
the resuriection.' It must therefore be 
something more than clo'.hing the soul in a 
spiritual body. It is, beside this, growth in 
spiritual strength and power, in knowledge, 
in holiness, in all the elements and fbrces of 
the divine life, umil we reach a ))oint of per- 
fectness and blessedness described in the 
term heaven. This resurrection or lifting up 
of the soul into the glorilied life of the 
angels, is the work of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
The end of his mediatorial reign, the com- 
pletion of his saving work, and the final sur- 
render of his kingdom back to God, does not 
take place till after this anastasis, this uplift- 
ing of all the dead and living into the 'image 
of the heavenly,' is completed. 

VII. On tin; subject of rew.ards and pun- 
ishments, the Universarist belief is substanti- 
ally, that holiness, p'iety, love of God and 
man, are their own reward, make their own 
heaven here and hereafter ; and that in the 
nature of things no oilier reward is possible. 
If men love God with all their heart, and 
trust in him, they find, and are satisfied with, 
the present heaven which love and faith 
bring with them. They hold the same doc- 
trine respecting puuishinents ; that it is con- 
sequential, and not arbitrary — the natural 
fruits of sin ; that it is for restraint, correc- 
tion, and discipline ; and that God loves as 
truly when ho punishes as when he blesses, 
never inflicting jiain in anger, but only be- 
cause he sees that it is needed, as medicine 
is, to prevent a greater evil. They affirm 
that the law is made for the good of man, 
and, of course, that the penalty cannot be 
such as to defeat the object of the law. 
Transgression brings misery, or jnmishment, 
which is designed to correct and restore to 
obedience, because obedience is happiness. 
They maintain that pain, ordained for its 
own sake, and pcrpetua:ed to all eternity, is 
proof of infinite malignity ; but God, they 
say, is infinitely beneficent, and therefbre all 
suffering must have a beneficent element in 
it, all punishments must be temporary, and. 
end in,good." 

The Universalists are very generally be- 
lievers in the doctrine of Restoration. They 
do not deny tha punishment of sin beyond 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFEBENT DENOMINATION'S. 



this life, but believe tli.at it will be tempo- 
rary, uiid end iu a restoration of tlie entire 
race to lioline.ss, happiness, anil heaven. 

Tlie Universalists are paying much atten- 
tion to tiieir educational institutions. They 
have now five colleges, viz : Tufts College, 
Jledford, Mass., with 1.5 professors, and 
l)roperty valued at $80.5,UHO ; Lombard Uni 
versity, Galesburg, 111., with G professors. 
and property vaHied at $205,000; St. Law- 
rence University, at Canton, N. Y., with i) 
professors, an i property worth .about $-40,- 
000 ; Buclitei College, Akron, Oaio, founded 
in 1870, wi'h $G0,000 eudownient ; and 
Smithson College, Logansport, Lid., al^o 
founded in 1870. They have two divinity 
schools, both well endowed, one in connec- 
tion with Tufts College, the other with the 
St. Lawrence Uiuversity. They have, also, 
eight academies, or institutes of high grade, 
most of them Lioeivdly endowed. They have 
13 periodicals. Their statistics, in 1870, 
were: 83 associations, 911 societies, 620 
ministers, and a ]irobab!e membership of 
their societies of from 9(1,00 J to 10(),00(». 
with an adherent po]Hdalion of over 200,000. 
They have a considerable number of Sunday 
Schools, but do not give the statistics of 
them. Li 1.S70-71, they raised a centenary 
fund in commemoration of Mr. Murray's 
work in founding Universalist societies, of 
$200,000, to be' called the Murray Fund, 
and to be devoted to ihe aid of theological 
students, the distribution of Universalist lit 
eralure, church extension, and the mission- 
ary caiis(;. 

III. TnK IIicKsrTF. OR Sf.cedino Socr- 
ETV OF FiuENDS IN Amf.rica. are Unitari- 
ans, in their view of the divinity of Christ. 
(See V^IIJ, ii.) 

IV. ''The Christian Connixtion," at 
the West, have aftiliat<'d with the Unitarians 
iind a larg3 per. ion of them aie believed to 
iiold Unitarian views in regard to the divin- 
ity of Christ. In the Eastern and Middle 
States, they are generally T. initarians. (See 

n, vii.) 



XI. THE \E\V .ir,I!r'*.\T,EA[ CEirRCII, 
^E\V CUUKClI. OK SWKDENBORUI.VN. 

This denomination refuse to be called a 
sect of the Christian church, claiming to be 
entirely distinct from any branch of the 
Christian church and to belong to a new 
dispensation as fully and as far removed 
from the Christian disj)ensation as that was 



from the Jewish. They insist, indeed, that 
the Christian dispensation passed away and 
came to an end in 1757, and that they are 
the new dispensation, the New Jerusalem, 
which has come down from God out of heav- 
en to take the place. The first congregation 
of the New Jerusalem Church was tbrnially 
organized in London in 1788, by Robert 
Ilindmarsh, a printer in Cierkenwell, who 
was chosen by lot, to baptize and ordain his 
comrades in the ministry. Few if any so- 
cieties were organized iu the United States 
before 1820, altliough there weie undoubt- 
edly some believers iu fl'.e New Church doc- 
trines at an earlier date. Their doctrines 
are those put forth by Emanuel Sweden- 
borg, a Swedish nobleman, statesman and 
philosopher (1688-1772), amanof extensive 
attainmeuts in science and of most pure and 
exemplary life, who, after publishing many 
.scientific and philosophical works, beiievei) 
that he was favored with visions and reve- 
lations from the spiritual world, and in 174.j 
at the age of .57 relin(|uished all ollice and 
gave himself to communion with the invisi- 
ble world and to recording his visions and 
the doctrines he had been therein tauglit, for 
the benefit of those who should come af:er 
him. No one believes Swedenborg to have 
been an imposler. Everything in his cir- 
cumstance- and character relutes such a sup- 
position ; but there are many who regard 
him as suilering under hallncinalions and as 
being of unisound mmd. He lived to be 
nearly 8o years of age, and in the last twen- 
ty-seven years of his life wrote many books, 
all on topics connected with his supposed 
revelation. Some of these books (all writ- 
ten origiiialy in Latin.) contain passages of 
great beauty and interest; but the greater 
part have a my lical character, and are not 
specially attractive except to those who pro- 
fess 10 comprehend them by a spiritual in- 
sig!it. We have not the spai'c for anything 
like a full analysis of the doctrines put forth 
in these numerous volumes. His doctrines 
seem to be based on a theory or science of 
corre-pondences, which he believed himself 
to have rediscovered after it had been lot 
for ages. The law of correspondence is uni- 
versal ; the natural world is a repetition of 
the spiritual world, and the spiritual world 
of the invisible mental worhl. Unseen evil 
is manifested in things hurtful and ugly, un- 
seen good in things useful and Ijcautiful. 
Man is a microcosm, or little Avorld ; nature 
is man in diffusion ; all things iu nature — fire, 



HI3T0KT a::d pnoGRi'.ss OP THE diffeuen't denominations. 



557 



air, earth, and water, every beast, bird, fi-li, 
insect, and reptile, every tree, herb, fruit, and 
flower — represent and express unseen things 
ill the mind of man. The scriptures are 
v/ritten according to correspondences, and 
by aid of the Sfience their mysteries are un- 
locked. This mystical interpretation gives 
us to understand that tlie early chapters of 
Genesis are iiot to be received in any his- 
toric sense. Adam signifies the most ancient 
church, and the flood its dissolution ; Nodi 
an ancient church which, falling into idolatry, 
was superseded by the Jewili. The spirit- 
ual sense pervades the scriptures with the 
exception of Ruth, I. and II. Chronicles, 
Kzra, Neliem'ali, Esther, ,Iob, Proverbs, Ec- 
clesiastes, the Song of Solomon, the Acts of 
the Apostles, and the Epistles. These are 
all gooJ books but not possessing tlie inter- 
n,al or spiritual sense. They are not in- 
spired and consequently not the Word. By 
reason of its symbolism of the inward sense 
the letter of scripture (with the above excep- 
tion) is holy in every jot and tittle, and ha^ 
been preserved in immaculate jierfection, 
since the hour of its divine dictation. By 
this doctrine of correspondences also the con- 
stitution of heaven and hell is revealed. 
There are three heavens, consisting of three 
orders of angels, severally distinguished for 
love, wisdom, and obedience. All angels 
have lived on earth ; none « ere created such. 
They are men and women in every respect, 
the spiritual life corresponding to the natu- 
ral ; they marry and live in societies in cities 
anil countries just as in the world but in 
happirie-3 and glory ineftable. To the un- 
married will be given the honor of caring 
for the little ones, and tiieir pe.formance of 
this duty will crown them with glory. All 
in wiioni lave to God and man is the ruling 
principle, go to heaven at death. As there 
are three heavens tiiere are three lieds, and 
every angelic society has an infernal coun- 
terpart. Hell, as a whole, is called the 
Devil and Satan ; (here is no individual 
bearing that name. All in whom self love is 
the ruling motive go to hell. There is no 
resurrection of the earthly liody. Eveiy 
one passes to the final lot at death, some 
making a short sojourn in an intermediate 
state, designated the World of S|(irits, where 
the good are cured of their superficial infir- 
mities and intellectual mistakes, and where 
the evil reject all their pretences to good. 
The grand and distinctive principle of Swe- 
denborgian theology is, however, the doc- 



trine of life. God, it is maintained, alone 
lives. Creation is dead. Man is dead and 
then apparent life is the Divine presence. 
God is eveiywhere the same. It appears 
as if He were difterent in one man and in 
another ; but this is a fallacy. The differ- 
ence is in the recipients ; by one lie is not 
received in the same degree as another. A 
man more adequately manifests God than a 
tree ; that is tlie only di>tiuction. The life 
of devils is God's presenc e perverted in dis- 
orderly forms. " All things and each of 
them to the very uttermost, exert and sub- 
sist instantly from God. If the connection 
of anything with Ilim were broken for a 
moment it would instantly vanish ; for exist- 
ence is perpetual subsistence, and preserva- 
tion perpetual creation." By ibis law of life 
is explained man's self-consciousness, free- 
dom, and personalit}-. All the.-e sensations 
are communicated from God to man. He 
ilwells in man so cordially, that He gives 
him to feel that he lives of himiclf, even as 
He lives. 

The Swedenborgian doctrine of the Trinity 
and the Divinity of Christ is thus enunciated 
by his followers, in language derived from 
his writings: "That Jehovah God, the 
creator, and preserver of heaven and earth is 
love itself, and wisdom itself, or good itself, 
and truth itself ; that He is one both in essence 
and in person, in whom nevertheless is the 
divine trinity of Father, Son, and Holy 
Spirit, which are the essential divinity, the 
divine humanity, and the divine proceeding, 
answering to the soul, the bod}', and the 
operative energy in man ; and that the Lord 
and Saviour Jesus Christ is that God. That 
Jehovah, God Himself, descended from 
Heaven as divine truth, which is the word, 
and took upon him human nature, for the 
purpose of removing from man the powers 
of hell, and restoring to order all things in 
the spiritual world, and all things in the 
church, that he removed from men the pow- 
ers of hell, by combats again^t and victories 
over them, in which consisted the great work 
of redemption ; that by the same acts which 
were his temjitations, the last of which was 
the passion of the cross, he united in his 
humanity, divine truth to divine good, or 
divine wisdom to divine love, and so re- 
turned into his divinity in which he was 
from eternity together with and in his glori- 
fied humanity, whence he forever keeps the 
infernal powers in subjection to himself, and 
that all who believe in him with the under- 



558 



niSTORY AND PROGRESS OP THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



standing from the heart and live accordingly 
will be >aved. The New Church observes 
tlie ordinances of baptism and the Lord's 
supper, but gives them a mystical signifi- 
cance. The Christian cliu: ch, as establisiied 
by Jesm himself, came to an end, Sweden- 
bor"- says, in the middle of tlie last century, 
and in one of his visions he rtdates having 
witnessi-d the last judgment effected upon it 
in the world of spirits in 17.'i7. Theu com- 
menced the new dispensation, signified by 
tlie New Jerusalem in the Revelation of 
which he was to bo the precursor and re- 
vealer. He made no claim to be a leader 
or divinely inspired person, but only a seer. 
He did not himself attempt to establish a 
church, though it was his early expectation 
that such acliurcli would be raised up among 
some of ihi; gentile or heathen nations. But 
his followers have been active propagandists, 
and though they may have believed, as he 
did, that the Christian cliurch was dead and 
at an end, they have to a large extent re- 
mained in its communions, and have propa- 
gated their views among iis members, while 
retaining their connection with it. A por- 
tion have, it is true, co:ne out and organized 
separate societies or churches, but the New 
Cliurch has been far more conspicuous for 
intellectual ability, both among its secret ad- 
herents and its avowed members, than for 
members. After fifty years of really zeal- 
ous etfort, they report only 65 ministers, 78 
societies and at the utmost not more than 
4,0;)0 avowed members, with an adherent 
population of perhaps ti,00(t. They have an 
etficient publisiiing association, with a capi- 
tal of about Sl.i,<>00; a tract society which 
publishes 30,000 or 40,000 tracts per year; 
three periodicals, a weekly, a monthly, and 
a child's paper, a theological school at Wal- 
tliam, iSIass ; three church schools — one of 
them liberally endowed, a missionary society, 
and several Sunday School Unions. It has 
also a " New Cliurch Union " with a free 
library having heaihpiarters in Boston. 



XII. MORMONS, OR CHURCH OF JESUS 
CHRIST OF LATTER DAY SAINTS. 
I. The Mormons under the control of 
Brigham Young. We have neither time nor 
space to go into the Idslurrj of this imposture, 
the most conspicuous one of mo<leru times ; 
nor is it needful ; for the story of the golden 
plates, and of Solomon Spalding's manu- 
script, of the successive efforts at organiza- 



tion in JManchester, N. Y.; Kirtlund, Ohio ; 
Jackson and Clay counties, Missouri ; Kau- 
voo, Illinois; the impositions, threats, and 
swindles of the Mormon leaders, thi ir expul- 
sion from Missouri, their death at the hands 
of a mob at Carthage, Illinois, the pilgrim- 
age westward, the wintering in Iowa, the 
liiial arrival in 1847 and 1848, at Salt Lake, 
the founding of Great Salt Lake City, the 
building of the Tabernacle, the open prac- 
tice and boast of polj'gamy, their collisions 
with the United States government, their 
Danite band, their murders and outrages, 
and their present condition, have all been 
told so many times as to be familiar to all. 
We will therefore only state their doctrines 
and practices according to their own author- 
ized manuals. They believe that there are 
many gods and that eminent saints may in 
ti.nie become gods, and rise one above another 
in power and glory to infinity. Joseph 
Smith is the God of this generation. Above 
him in power and glory is Jesus Christ, who 
was the offsjiring of the material union on 
the jilains of Palestine of a God with the 
Virgin Mary, the latter being duly married 
after betrothal by the angel Gabriel. Ytt 
Christ had had a previous existence and had 
made the universe out of unformed chaotic 
matter as old as God. The God whom they 
describe as the father of Jesus Christ, had 
once been a man and still retains a human 
form, though he is so advanced in intelligence 
and power that he may now be called, ccm- 
jiaratively speaking, perfect, iniinife, &c. 
The Holy Spirit they believe to be also a 
material being and once human. Above 
tliHse is an older trinity composed of Jehovah 
Elohim, and Michael or Adam, the latter 
being described as the god or superior of 
Christ, and below, beneath, and associated 
with these are gods many and lords many. 
Their whole Theogony seems to be a most 
unintelligible jumble, mingling Brahminism, 
Buddhism, and every other form of belief. 
The second article of their creed affirms that 
men will be punished for their own sins and 
not for Adam's transgressions. The tliird 
artide states that through the atonement of 
Christ all mankind may be saved by obedi- 
ence to the laws and ordinances of the gos- 
pel. The fourth defines their ordinances to 
be : Faith in the Lord Jesus, which is ex- 
pounded as including obedience to the ten 
commandments, and to the Word of Wisdom 
revealed to Joseph Smith in 1833; 2. Re- 
pentance ; 3. Baptism, which is administered 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



559 



by immersion, only to children at eight years 
of age, and also to adults who had not been 
previously baptized. They also ba|itize for 
tlie dead, asserting that at the resurrection 
all the persons fur whuni a man has been 
liaptized will be added to his family ; 4. Im- 
]iosition of hands to confer the gift of the 
Holy Spirit ; 5. The Loi-d's Supjier, admin- 
istered to the recipients kneeling; they use 
water instead of wine, being averse to the 
use of the latter, and receive the sacrament 
every week. Tlie ffth article declares that 
men must be called to the work of God by 
inspiration. The sixth that the same or- 
ganization must now exist that existed in the 
])riiuiiive church. The seventh, that miracu- 
lous gifts — discerning of spirit:^, prophecv, 
revelations visions, healing, speaking with 
tongues, &c., — have not ceased. Among 
Smith's and Hrigham Young's speculations 
in the way of discerning of spirits, one was 
that the soul of man was not created but had 
existed from all eternity, equal in duration 
to God. Another of these revelations was 
that of the transmigration of souls, that re- 
bellious spirits (of men) would descend into 
brute tabernacles, till they yielded to the 
law of the cerlasting gospel. The eighth 
article atfirms that the. Word of God is re- 
corded not only in the Bible and the ]?ook 
of Mormo 1, but in all other good books. 
The coniradictions which exist in the Bible 
and other books can be very easily removed 
by revelations to any of the Mormon leaders 
or anv other inspired prophets. Joseph 
Smith, it is said, left an " inspired transla- 
tion " of the whole Bildc in manuscript, but 
none of the leaders since have thought it 
worth their while to ])u;)lish it. The ninth 
article expresses a belief in all that God has 
revealed, is revealing, or will jet reveal. 
The tenth affirms the literal gathering of 
Israel, the restoration of the Ten Tribes 
(whom they believe to be the American 
Ind ans), the establ'shinent, of the New Zion 
on the Western Continent fthey generally 
insist that this will be in Jackson county, 
Missouri), the miUenial reign of Christ on 
earth, with all his holy prophets and demi- 
gods (of whom .loseph Smith will be most 
con-picuous), and the transformation of 
earth into a parailise. The eleventh article 
maintains " the literal resurrection of the 
bjdy, — to fli-sh and bone, but not blood — 
blood b;'ing the principle of mortalitv." The 
twelfth article asserts the absolute liberty of 
private judgment ia matters of religion. The 



thirteenth declares it to be the duty of the 
saints and all others to be subject to the pow- 
ers that be, whether monarchical or ri-publi- 
can ; and the fourteenth and last is as follows : 
" We believe in being honest, true, chaste, 
temperate, benevolent, virtuous, and ujiright ; 
and in doing good to all men ; also that an 
idle or lazy person cannot be a Christian, 
neither have salvation." The leaders, how- 
ever, by virtue of the revelations they receive, 
can, at will, exempt themselves from the ob- 
ligation of any of these rules or obligations, 
and most of them are notoriously profane, 
unchaste, and accessories to the grossest 
frauds and murders, if they do not commit 
them in person. 

Their most remarkable social peculiarity 
is the practice of polygamy. Among the 
early revelations publi-hed by Smitli, one 
was the strict enforcement of both monogamy 
and chastity ; but about 1838 he became no- 
toriousl}' licentious and as alter a time his 
wife began to complain of his amours, he 
had in 1843 a special revelation directing the 
practice of polygamy not only in his own case, 
but in that of the other saints. This was 
denied by the leaders for some years, but in 
18o2 they openly avowed polj'gamy as one 
of their doctrines and referred to this reve- 
lation as their authority. It is now very 
generally practised in Utah ; Young himself 
having, it is said, sixt}' or more wives. For 
many years the Jlormon leaders have dclied 
the United States government and have 
ruled the teriitory of Utah according to their 
own views, driving out and often murdering 
United States ollicers and citizens who at- 
tempted to enforce national laws ; but the 
opening of the territory by the passage of 
the Union Pacitic and other railways through 
it, and the development of the large mining 
inter(>sts there, have brought in so large a 
population, who are not Mormons, that there 
is a prospect that the laws may be enforced 
there without serious difficulty. By the 
laws of the United States, as well as by com- 
mon law, polygamy is a crime, and actions 
have recently been commenced against 
Brigham Young, Daniel C. "Wells, and other 
of the Mormon leaders for adultery, and for 
being accessories to the murder of some 
men whom they had caused to be put out of 
the way. Young has left Salt Lake Citj', 
and it is generally believed, has fled from 
the territory, and some of the others have 
given bail, while one or two have been con- 
victed of the minor offense. 



560 



mSTOTlY AND PnOOUESS OF THE DltFEUKNT DENOMINATIONS. 



'1 he ilonnons have liabitiially greatly 
overi-ai.eil iheir numbers. They ehiiineil 
early in 1870 a Mormon |iopuhition in Utah 
of 110,000, while the United States census 
of 1.S70 gave the entire population of the 
territory as only 8G,786, of whom not less 
than 17,000 are known not to he Jloi-mons, 
aside from a considerable number of seced 
ers from the authority of Young. Else- 
where in the United States there may be 
(including the seceding Mormons) seven or 
eight thousand ; and in foreign countries 
perhaps 50,000 to Gi i,000. They claim 1 00,- 
000 on the eastern continent ; but they 
have no such following. Their hierarchy is 
of two kinds, the Melchizedec and the Aar- 
ouic priesthood. To the former belong the 
First Presidency of three, of which Young 
is the chief; the twelve apostles, the seven- 
ties, the patriarchs, the high priests and the 
elders. To the Aaronic priesthood belong 
the bi-ihops, of whom in all there are 240, 
the ]ir'ests, teachers, and deacons. Tithes are 
rigi lly exacted from the Mormon believers 
t'j be applied to the support of worship, &c., 
but no inconsiderable portion finds its wa}' 
i.ito the capacious purse of Brigham Young, 
who by adroit management; has become very 
wealthy, his pro|ierty amounting to many 
millions, and being largely invested abroad. 

There have been for the past twenty-five 
years a body of Mormons who did not go with 
the others to Utah, who did not recignize 
Brigham Young as tlie"ir chief, nor practice 
])olygamy. They have had a colony and set- 
tlement for some years in northwestern Iowa, 
on the borders of Dakota, and have had as 
their spiritual chiefs, Emma Smith, the widow 
of Joseph Smith, and of late years Joseph 
Smith, Jr. They have about 5,000 ad- 
herents, and tiie Slormons of Utah are very 
hostile to them. Of late Joseph .Smith, Jr. 
has visited Utah, and a considerable numlier 
of IMormons who were disaffected toward 
Yoiuig, have recognized him as their leader. 
Others of the disaffected, who repudiate 
Young's authority and teachings though not 
y<'t willing to abandon polygamy, have fol- 
lowed a man named Godbe, and are known 
as Godbeitcs. Both these seceding organi- 
zations are bitterly denounced by Young and 
the Mormon hierarchy. 



XIII. ISR.VKLITES OR JEWS. 

I. The OitrnoDox Iskaelites, or Jews. 
This is no place for a history of the ancient 



people of God in all their dispersions, wan- 
derings, and persecu;ions ; we can only give 
very briefly, their history as a religious de- 
nomination in the United States. The first 
Jews who emigrated to North America, it is 
believed, came to the then Dutch colony of 
New Amsterdam, in Hi GO. Although, from 
the first, they have always enjoyed comj)lete 
religious liberty here, and have often been 
called to positions of high honor in society 
and under our government, yet the number 
of Jewish emigrants to the United States 
was, for a hundred and fifty years from their 
- rst coming, very small, and in 1820 they 
certainly did not exceed 15,000 in our entire 
territory. Since that time they have come 
in somewhat larger numbers, attracted by 
the opportunities ofTered them for succesful 
trade and financial operations. After the 
revolutions of 1848, on the continent of Eu- 
rope, many of those, who had participated in 
those uprisings, came here and have since 
been some of our most valued citizens. It 
is difficult to ascertain definitely how many 
are now residents in the United States ; the 
Board of Delegate-i of American Israelites, 
in 1868 reported 200 congregations in the 
countrj^ If these averaged li)0 male mem- 
bers (;i large estimate), the adherent popu- 
lation could not much have exceeded 40,0f)0; 
but there are besides these, the Re- 
formed Jews, a considerable number who 
have embraced Christianity, and many who 
in this country do not conneit themselves 
with anj' religious organization. We are 
inclined to believe that 75,000 is a large es- 
timate of the actual Jewish population of 
the United States, though it has been reck- 
oned as high as 200,000. They have wor- 
ship in their synagogues on the Jewish Sab- 
bath (Saturday), with reading .and expound- 
ing of tlie law, chanting of psalms, etc. The 
reading is usually in Hebrew or Aramaic, 
although many Jews do not understand the 
Hebrew well, but the explanations and dis- 
courses are m English, or in the vernacular 
of the country from which they have come. 
Many of their rabbis are men of extensive 
learning, and specially versed in Oriental and 
linguistic science. It is, of course, under- 
stood that the Jew does not recognize Christ 
in any religious sense, and is a Deist, rather 
th.an a Socinian or Unitarian. The follow- 
ing abstract of their doctrinal creed, com- 
piled from the Thirteen Articles of iNIaimon- 
ides exhibits, briefly, their views on religio!;s 
subjects: "1. They believe that God is the 



HISTORY AND PUOGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



561 



Creator and Governor of all creatures, and 
that he alone has made, does make, and will 
make all things. 2. They believe that He 
is only one, in unity to which there is no 
resemblance, and that he alone has been, is, 
and will be their God. 3. They believe that 
the Creator is not corporeal, not to be com- 
prehended by an understanding capable of 
comprehending only what is corporeal ; and 
that there is nothing like him in the universe 
4. They believe that He is the First and 
the Last. 5. They believe that He is the 
onl}' object of adoration, and that no other 
being whatever, ought to be worshiped. 6. 
Tliey believe that all the words of the proph- 
ets are true. 7. They believe that all the 
prophecies of Moses, their master, are true, 
and that he was the father of all the wise men, 
as well of those who went before him, as of 
those who succeeded him. 8. They believe 
that the whole law which they have in their 
hand at this day, was delivered by Moses. 
9. They believe that this law will never be 
changed, and that no other law will ever be 
given by the Creator. 10. They believe that 
God knows all the actions of men, and all their 
thouglits ; as it is said : ' He fashioneth all 
the hearts of men, and understandeth all 
their works.' 11. They believe that God 
rewards those who observe his commands, 
and punishes those who transgress them. 
1 2. They believe that the IMessiah will come, 
and, though he delays, they will always ex- 
pect him till He comes. 13. They believe 
that the dead will be restored to life when it 
shall be ordained by the decree of the Crea- 
tor. 

The Jews have not been very active in 
educational matters, but have several free 
schools of high grade, and, at Philadelphia, 
jNlaimonides College, founded in 1867, which 
though having a full course, and able in- 
structors, is not well endowed. In matters 
of public charity, the founding of hospitals, 
asylums for orphans, the aged, and the wid- 
ow, and the establishment of public libraries, 
and museums of art, they deserve very high 
praise. These institutions, and their gifts to 
them have not, in any case, been confined to 
their own people, but have been opened 
freely to all, and some of their liberal givers 
have won for themselves undying feme by 
their large handed charity. It is worthy of 
note that they provide always for their own 
poor. They "have three or four well con- 
ducted periodicals. 

11. The Reformed or Progressive 
34* 



Israelites. This organization, which has a 
Rabbinical Conference, which meets annually, 
and has synagogues in the principal cities, 
while not disposed to relinquish their Jewish 
birthright and privileges, yet deem some 
changes necessitated, by the progress of the 
world, in their ancient faith. They do not 
look for the coming of a temporal Messiah, 
or a return to Palestine ; they believe in 
having their exercises in the synagogues 
in the vernacular. They hold to the immor- 
tality of the soul, but not to the resurrection 
of the body ; to God's grace and justice to 
])ardon and bless the being created in his 
image, and not to expiatory rites and sacri- 
fices. We have no means of estimating their 
numbers. 

Eftbrts have been made, and with consid- 
erable success, by several of the Protestant 
denominations for the conversion of the 
.Jews to Christianity. There are several 
congregations of these converted Israelites, 
and a still larger number who have connect- 
ed themselves, as individu.als, with other 
Christian churches. A considerable number 
of Jews said to be mainly from Germany, 
Poland, and Portugal, have, on coming to 
the United States, abandoned all religious 
worship and faith, and given themselves up 
wholly to the worship of mammon. 



XIV. SPIRITUALISTS. 

"We can hardly call the Spiritualists a 
religious denomination, since its professed 
adherents belong to almost all denomina- 
tions, and many of them to none, and their 
single bond of union is in their belief that 
somehow, and in some way, they hold inter- 
course with the spirits of the departed. That 
this belief is a delusion seems to be demon- 
strated by the most incontestable evidence ; 
yet very many cling to it with the utmost 
tenacity. The Spiritualists, and especially 
the so-called " spiritual mediums," may be 
divided into several classes. Among these 
are: 1. Charlatans and impostors, who de- 
liberately profess to hold communication with 
the spirit world, knowing that they are guilty 
of a gross and fraudulent deception, but doing 
so for the sake of gain. This class is nu- 
merous ; to it belong most of the fortune- 
tellers and necromancers, the greater part 
(perhaps we should say all) of the healing 
mediums, clairvoyant doctors, and the like, 
the exhibiting niediunis, rappers, table-tip- 
pers, &c., &c. 2. The self-deluded, who, 



562 



HISTORT AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DKNOMINATIONS. 



possessing a certain amount of magnetic, 
odyllic or reflex-nervous power, really sup- 
pose themselves to be in communication with 
the spirits, when they are only reproducing 
their own thoughts and conjectures or those 
of persons about them and with whom tliey 
are en rapport. 3. Genuine clairvoyants, 
very few in number, but really endowed 
with a greater or less degree of the clairvoy- 
ant or seer faculty, but mistaken in imputing 
tiieir visions to a dift'erent source from that 
from which they really come. The supposed 
conversations held by these persons with an- 
gelic intelligence, or the spirits of the depart- 
ed who were eminent for intellectual or moral 
power in this life, all give evidence, which 
whoso runs may read, that they are "of the 
earth, earthy." Not one of these messages 
professedly from the spiritworld, however 
exalted in intellect in this life were the per- 
sons from whom they purjiort to have come, 
has ever risen above the dead level of bald 
common place, and could the persons to 
whom they were attributed have come back 
to earth and read them, they would have re- 
pudiated them most indignantly. Much the 
same may be said of the professed revela- 
tions of the spiritual world by these professed 
seers. We have read many of them and 
have found them invariably sensuous in their 
descriptions, and giving ample evidence of 
having been borrowed without being im- 
proved from the Koran, the oriental fables, 
or the word painting of Moore, Byron, 
Southey, IJeckford, or Johnson, and some- 
times, perhajis, from the hallucinations of 
P>nianuel Swedenborg. Too much of the 
flesh clings to the seer to make these visions 
in any respect representative of that glorious 
spiritual state which the natural eye hath 
not seen, nor can see ; of those experiences, 
which are only discerned by the spiritual 
man when unrobed from the garments of 
flesh, and made pure even .as God is pure. 

Still this great delusion has its thousands 
of votaries. Beginning in this countiy about 
1843 with some manifestations of power as 
a healing medium on the part of a lad of 
seventeen, named Andrew Jackson Davis, 
at Poughkeepsie ; they were graiiually de- 
veloped into a high degree of clairvoyance 
on his part, which resulted in his dictating 
from 1846 to the present time numerous 
■fcooks professing to give revelations of the 
'condition of the various spheres which he al- 
teged envelope our earth, and communica- 
'uons with the spirits which inhabia-d them ; 



descriptions of the climate, scenery and peo- 
ple of the various planetary bod es of the 
solar system, and eventually a Uieological 
system, with its pantheon of heroes and demi- 
gods which he professed to have received 
from the highest spiritual intelligences. That 
some portions of this system were rather the 
results of earthly study, than of heavenly in- 
spiration, was evident to those who knew 
Mr. Davis's habits of study and preparation 
for his books. These numerous volumes 
have, however, had a very considerable sale, 
and though it would be difficult to say how 
many Spiritualists believed them either 
wholly or in part, yet they have unquestion- 
ably exerted considerable influence in form- 
ing the Spiritualist theology. Many Spirit- 
ualists repudiate them, wholly ; others go far 
beyond them, to a gross and blasphemous infi- 
delity. While Mr. Davis was begiiming to 
dictate his revelations, another development of 
the Spiritualist mania appeared in Rochester, 
where a Mrs. Fox and her two young daugh- 
ter's first made spirit-rapping piofitable. 
This and table-tipping and table dancing 
soon became popular and lucrative exercises, 
and presently it was found that the s])irits 
could spell (not always correctly) by the aid 
of an alphabet card. As time passed, their 
education improved till by the hand of a 
medium (their unconscious instrument, it 
was said) they wrote all manner of plati- 
tudes in prose and rhyme, though quite as 
often without sense as with it. Still lati r, 
they practised a species of phonographic 
writing which expedited matters for them, 
though not always for the unhappy mediums, 
who found great difficulty in puttiig it into 
readable English. Gymnastic and leger- 
demain feats followed, and though most of 
these were exposed, yet they made tl eir im- 
pression on the minds of the gaping multi- 
tude. An adventurer named 1). D. Home 
or Hume was the most adroit performer of 
these alleged Spiritualistic feats in Europe, 
and succeeded in deceiving many eminent 
though unphilosophic minds. The delusion 
reached its culminating point in 1858 or 
1859. .-.Ill 'iiis .^... that time been gradually 
wani] g. Doth the Shakers and the followers 
of Swedenborg had at one time great expec- 
tations from it, of large iucreaSi; to tlieir 
nurabi is; but both have bein greatly di-ap- 
pointtil. ^^ely many who were once de- 
luded by' it have long since abandoned it and 
row winder that 'ley could have been so 
grievo- ly deceived; others not fairly <eou- 



HISTOKV AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



563 



viaceJ of ihe dclu ioa still entertain doubts, 
anJ w.U eventually shake it off; while of 
tho-e whj holJ tirmly to it still, some have 
b^cim; insane, somj profess to derive com- 
fort fio.n their commiinicaiion in hours of 
sorroNV with the d 'ar departed, and others 
have plunged into the abyss of infidelity or 
are on the hig!i road thither. 

T.ie Spiritualists in 1.-558 and 1859 made 
the rajst extravagant statements in regard 
to tlieir numbers ; statements which must at 
that tira3 have been conspicuously inexact, 
and are now too absurd fjr any one to be- 
lieve. In the '• Spiritual Register" for 1859 
it is state 1 that the number of actual Spirit- 
ualists in America is 1,500,000; of those 
who have more or less faith in the doctrine, 
but do not openly espouse it, 4,000,000 ; pub- 
lic advoeates 1,000 ; mediums, public and 
private, 40,000; places for public meeting-!, 
1,000 ; boo'is and pamphlets, 500 ; periodi- 
cals, 30. If mMt of these figures had been 
divided by ten the quotients would have been 
nearer the truth at that time. At present, 
the niimb.-r of periodicals (of which only 
two or three have a large circulation) is ten, 
the number of public advocales of Spiritual- 
ism n:)t over 5;), and the meetings mentioned 
about the same or possibly 75. The number 
of mediums of all sorts, we could not under- 
take to estimate ; there must be several 
thousands ; though some have unfortunately 
been sent to State Prison recently, and 
some others, who have been using their art, 
to aid them in their nefarious business as 
procuresses ought to be. It would be diffi- 
cult to find 150,000 persons who would avow 
themselvi's, to-day. Spiritualists ; and equally 
diffieult to find 200,000 more who would 
acknowledge any leanings in that direction. 
The number of books and pamphlets pub- 
lished pro and con may reach 500, indeed, 
considering the great number issued by Mr. 
A. J. Davis and Mr. S. B. Brittan, we think 
they probably will ; but the sale of Mr. 
Davis's books, the most popular of all this 
class of literature, has not averaged over 
20,000 copies of each. 



XV. jfRKE THINKERS, OR ATHEISTS, 
DEISTS, RATIONALISTS, &o. 

The various forms of unbelief cannot 
fairly be called religious since they are rather 
the negative of all religion ; nor can they 
be classified or numbered, since they are 
found under so many different names and 



forms and commingled with so many other 
doctrines and notions ; yet it is true that 
they include many thousands mostly from 
three classes: 1. Speculative philosophers, 
whose learning is rather superficial than 
profound, and who from the desire to throw 
off control, which is natural to the depraved 
heart, seek to find arguments against the 
authenticity and inspiration of the scriptures, 
against a ruling and controlling Providence, 
and against any plan of salvation which 
admits tiie depravity of human nature. They 
draw their arguments from any and every 
source which they deem available ; at one 
time they deride mira.les as inconsistent 
with reason ; at another they parade geolo- 
gical discoveries as proving the falsity of the 
Sacred Record ; then they are very sure 
that they have discovered that man has lived 
upon the earth 800,000 or a million of yeais, 
and that he was developed from a monad or 
a monkey ; if driven from these positions, 
they find fault with the numbers of the Bible, 
its genealogical records, its narratives of 
events ; the slightest apparent discrepancy 
is magnified, and they either conclude the 
sacred book a tissue of fables, a book of rid- 
dles, metaphors, and conundrums, or a series 
of myths. Rout them from one class of ar- 
guments, and they fiy to another, often in 
exact contradiction of what they had previ- 
ously maintained ; and in default of any 
ground of argument they will fall to abusing 
and cursing the life, ministry, and work of 
the Divine Redeemer, using the coarsest ri- 
baldry,though previously given to only dainty 
phrases ; thus demonstrating that it is the 
enmity of the heart against God which is at 
the bottom of all their unbelief. 2. A larger 
class than the preceding is composed of 
working men, mechanics, who in a crude and 
rough way do a good deal of thinking, but 
being soured by the neglect of their intel- 
lectual tastes and abilities, which thoy believe 
the educated class manifest, and having the 
idea that they are displaying a great deal of 
intellectual independence by avowing them- 
selves free thinkers, plunge boldly into the 
discussion of questions which they are dis- 
qualified, for the want of both early training 
and positive knowledge, from handling. 
Without being conscious of it they are mere- 
ly the echoes and mouth pieces of abler but 
worse men, uttering the falsehood, which 
their leaders know to be such, but which 
these poor men believe merely on their as- 
sertion. With them, too, the desire that 



564 



HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



these views may be true, tliat they may be 
thereby freed from responsibility and the 
goadings of conscience, has much to do wiih 
their earnestness in endeavoring to believe 
them. 3. AnotRer and still larger class of 
unbelievers, we can hardly call them free 
thinkers, for they do very little thinking of 
any sort, are the men and women utterly 
brutalized by a vicious life, who are witliout 
hope and without God in the world, and 
who stolidly conclude that no other life, if 
there is another, can be worse than the 
present ; and that somehow they will be 
better off after death, since, as they express 
it, they have had no show or chance here. 
These need almost a new creation to bring 
tliem up to the plane of morally accounta- 
ble beings. They constitute the dangerous 
classes of our large cities, the material of 
mobs, the gangs of thieves, dead rabbits, 
shoulder hitters, prize fighters, burglars, and 
if women, the shop lifters, prostitutes, and 
degraded women of the slums and back 
alleys of the great cities. We might name 
as recruits in this army of unbelief, those 
who under the influence of the worst phases 
of spiritualism have lost all faith in humanity, 
and those in higher circles of society who 
departing from their early training in sound 
doctrine have wandered and fioundered 
through the mazes of German rationalism, 
transcendentalism, and at last merged in 
Pantheism or utter unbelief. 

A very considcraljle portion of the edu- 
cated German emigrants, and the English 
workingmen who migrate to this country 
are Freethinkers or infidels, and in many of 
our large cities as well as in the newer 
towns and settletnents at the West they have 
organized Infidel or Liberal clubs, and seek 
to bring others into their way of thinking. 
They have united and brought out their lull 
strength on several occasions in the effort to 
have all Sabbalh laws abrogated in several 
of the AVestern cities. In some of the new 
.settlements of the West they have been so 
largely in the majority that they have pro- 
hibited all effort for religious worship or 
Sal)bath observance. Their periodicals 
yary in character according to the class 
whom they address. Some are decorous in 
tone but aim at subverting Christianity by 
appeals to reason and philosophy ; others 
are ribald and blasphemous, and denounce 
ince-^santly all Christian organizations, and 
Christian men. Those conducted by foreign- 
ers and in German or French, are generally 



revolutionary in their character, and have 
much to say of priestcraft and restrictions 
upon the rights of the people. There are 
in all fifteen or twenty of these papers, but 
they give no indications of the number of 
the Freethinking class, since many of them 
do not read anything. There are no means 
of estimating with any apjiroximation to ac- 
curacy their actual numbers. Men who 
have made rdigious statistics a study, and 
with equal opportunities of observations 
differ as widely as between 250,000 and 
1 ,000,000 ; and the larger number is quite as 
likely to be correct as the smaller. 

There are a number of small and minor 
sects which did not properly come under the 
classification we have adopted. With a 
brief notice of them we close this sketch 
of Religious Denominations in the 
UNiTed States. 

I. Adventists, a recent sect of Millina- 
rians, owing its origin to William Miller of 
Vermont, from whom they are often called 
Millerites. He commenced his public teach- 
ings in 1833 and jiredicted the second ad- 
vent of Christ in 1843. Among his 
disciples was one Joshua V. Ilimes who had 
been a Campbellite preacher and who sur- 
passed Miller in earnestness and energy. 
After the failure of their first prediction in 
1843, others were made but the adherents 
of the sect fell off. llimes however con- 
tinued to advocate his doctrine in the 
Advent Herald and from the pulpit, and suc- 
ceded in drawing around him a considera- 
ble number of followers, of whom, since 
Miller's death, he has been the leader and 
apostle. lie is said to be inclined to 
Unitarian views in regard to the divinity of 
Christ, and with most of his followers to 
hold that the wicked will be annihilated at 
the second coming of Christ. There are no 
definite statistics of the numbers of the Ad- 
ventists, but they are estimated at about 
20,000. Their other views are generally 
those of the Evangelical churches, though 
inclining somewhat to Metliodism ; but they 
have no regular creed or form of discipline. 
II. Anniiiii.ationists. The doctrine of 
the Annihilation of the Wicked is not con- 
fined to Adventists. Nearly forty years 
ago it was defended by Rev. Henry Grew, 
and since that time Dr. McCulloh of Baltic 
more, George Storrs (an Adventist) and 
Rev. C. F. Hudson have published works 
advocating the doctrine. They have not a 



HISTORI AND PROGRESS OF THE DIFFERENT DENOMINATIONS. 



565 



large following aside from the Adventists, 
and most, of those who believe in the 
doctrine remain members of Evangelical 
churches. 

III. Catholic Apostolic Church or 
Irving ITES, a small denomiuaticwi which 
originated with tlie teachings of Rev. Ed- 
ward Irving in London about 1830, but 
afterwards considerably modilicd through 
the influence of Mr. Henry Drunimond, a 
member of Mr. Irving's congregation. They 
hold to the present existence in the Chris- 
tian Church of the Charisms or gifts men- 
tioned by Paul in Cor. xii. 27-31, Eph. iv. 
1 1-13, 1 Thess. v. 19, 20, viz. healing, speak- 
ing with tongue=, prophesying, &c. In 
their other doctrines they agree generally 
with the Evangelical churches though they 
make confirmation or sealing by the laying 
on of hands of the apostles a third sacrament 
or ordinance. In organization and polity, 
however, they differ from most of the 
churches in having four orders of the min- 
istry, apostle-, prophets, evangelists, and 
angels or chief pastors, and under the latter, 
a fourfold ser\ice of elders and deacons, to- 
gether with under deacons and deaconesses. 
The deacons, under deacons, and deacon- 
esses are ordained by the angel or chief pas- 
tor, all the superior ministers or servants by 
the apostles who are not themselves ordained 
but called of the Holy Spirit to their work. 
In their worship they use incense-lights on 
the altar, the ftdl catalogue of priestly vest- 
ments, and a very imposing and impressive 
ritual. They celebrate the Eucharist, every 
Lord's day, as well as on other occasions, 
and receive tithes during the service. They 
also have auricular confession of sin with 
absolutions and prayers in fourfold form. 
At their meetings for extemporaneous pray- 
er and confession they encourage the speak- 
ing with tongues and prophesying. The 
number of congregations of the Catholic 
Apostolic Church in the United States is 
small, not more than eight or ten in all. 

IV. Brethren or Plysiouth Breth- 
ren, a denomination which originated about 
1830 under the leader.-hip of Rev. John 
Darby, an English barrister of high social 
position, who became a clergyman of the 
Church of England and devoted himself to 
missionary labors in Ireland for several 
years, but being conscientiously opposed to 
the doctrine of Apostolical Succession he 
left that church and proceeded to found one 
which recognized no distinctive ministry 



and no formal organization. Mr. Darby 
was a Millenarian and thought it the duty 
of all true Christians to gather in small 
bands and pray, labor, and wait for the 
speedy second coming of Christ. The Ply- 
mouth Brethren recognize no other tit-le 
except that of Brethren or Christians ; they 
are Calvinistic (thoroughly so) in doctrinal 
belief; but believe that all the Lord's chil- 
dren are priests and kings in his service and 
that any one of them who feels that he is 
called to the work lias a right to preach or 
to administer ordinances. They permit no 
licensure or ordination, and all preaching 
is voluntary and without salary or compen- 
sation. They baptize adults on a profession 
of faith (usually immersing them) though 
they do not consider this indispensable to 
membership. They do not allow infant 
baptism. They exclude persons from par- 
ticipating in the Lord's Supper, who have 
been guilty of gross sins. 'Ihe Lord's Sup- 
per is celebrated every Sabbath morning. 
In the afternoon or evening of the Lord's 
day they preach to and pray for such as are 
not converted. They believe in the efficacy 
ofprayer for special blessings temporal as 
well as spiritual, and one of the Brethren, 
George Miiller has maintained an extensive 
Orphan Asylum and large missionary enter- 
prises at Bristol for many years, solely by 
praying for the needed funds, which as they 
came in were most judiciously exjiended. 
The denomination has had a rapid growth 
in England and on the continent, and num- 
bers many eminent men among its adher- 
ents. In this country they have a consider- 
able number of congregations, but are very 
reticent concerning their increase and 
growth. 

V. Sandemanians or Glassites. This 
denomination, which a hundred years ago 
was quite numerous is now nearly extinct. 
It derives its name from Rev. Robert San- 
deman, who was not, however, its real found- 
er, his father-in-law. Rev. John Glass of 
Dundee, having originated the sect. Mr. 
Sandeman, after preaching their doctrines for 
twenty years or more in Scotland, emi- 
grated to the United States in 1764, and 
settled at Danbury, Connecticut, where he 
died in 1771, having established several 
Sandemanian churches in Connecticut and 
Massachusetts. Their distinguishing doc- 
trines are : That faith is a simple intellect- 
ual assent to the teachings and divinity of 
Christ ; that all mystical or double inter- 



506 



HISTORY AND PUOGKESS OF THE DIFFERKNT DENOMINATIONS. 



pretation of the scriptures is to be rejected ; 
that none of their members must take part 
in any games of cl'.ance ; that they are to 
abstain strictly from all blootl and " things 
strangled ;" that all collegiate training for 
the ministry is wrong ; that no prayers 
should be made at funerals ; that weekly 
love feasts in which all the members of the 
Church should dine together should be ob- 
served every Sabbath day ; and the kiss of 
brotherhood should pass between all their 
members, male and female, at their solemn 
meetings ; and that a plurality of elders is 
necessary in the church, two at least being 
required for all acts of discipline and the 
administration of ordinances and ritual. 
The ordinance of feet-washing originally 
practised by the sect has been discontinued. 
There are not more than two or three con- 
gregations of Sandemanians now existing 
in the United States. 

VI. Church of the Mf.ssiah, a sect 
founded in Maine in 1803 by a person named 
Adams, who had previously been a Mormon 
elder. He claimed to have visions and spe- 
cial inspirations. Among the points of the 
new faith was, that its members were of the 
tribe of Ephraim and that the time had 
come for them to return to the land of their 
fathers, where the Messiah was to set up the 
throne of David. In 1800, 150 of the mem- 
bers of the sect sailed from Maine for Pal- 
estine under the leadership of Adams and 
landed at Jaffa, where through the efforts of 
the American Vice-Consul, land had been 
procured for them and where they erected 
houses and a hotel. Dissatisfaction soon 
occurred. Adams was accused of misman- 
agement, and through the kind oflices of 
the United States government a considera- 
ble number returned in 1867, and the re- 
mainder in 1868. The sect is probably 
extinct. 

VII. Perfectionists. I. Free Lov- 
ers, Bible Communists or Perfection- 
ists, a small American sect founded about 
1840 by John H Noyes, in Putney. Ver- 
mont, but removed subsequently to Oneida, 
New York, where it is now known as the 
Oneida Community. Branches of it are 
also established under the same regulations 
at Wallingford and Brooklyn, Connecticut. 
This organization is a singular medley of 
Biblical doctrine and unholy practice. They 
profess to believe that a reconciliation to 
God is necessary for salvation, that this is 
accomplished through faith which is simj)ly 



an intellectual belief, and that confessing 
this belief the man's sins are immediately 
washed away, and thenceforth he is above 
and beyond all law, being a law unto himself; 
though in practice he surrenders a portion of 
til is liberty to the family or Community in 
which he lives. The}' hold to a community of 
goods, community of women, or as they term 
it, a complex marriage ; no legal marriage 
being considered binding and the parties to 
it in the community being at liberty to make 
new selections at will, their liberty, however, 
being somewhat abridged by the necessity 
of m;dving their proposals through a third 
party and their being subject to the approv- 
al of the family and in accordance with 
what they pronounce physiological laws. 
The Community or Communities now num- 
ber in all about 000 members, that at 
Oneida having 300. They have prospered 
financially, having attained large wealth by 
their mamifactures and .agricultural produc- 
tions. They are saiil to be harmonious and 
contented. The men dress like the citizens 
of the adjacent towns, but the women have 
adopted a sort of Bloomer costume and 
wear their hair short. The influence of 
these Communities can only be evil on the 
society around them. There are several 
other communities in various parts of the 
United States, practising a community of 
jOods but not of wives. We have already 
described the Shaker Communities, which 
have all prospered ; but there are others 
which do not find a new theology neces- 
sary to their success, such as the German 
Socialist Village of Economy, Pennsylvania, 
the Seventh Day German Baptist C'ornmu- 
nity at ILphrata, Pennsjdvania ; the more 
recently organized one, near Broctim in 
Western New York, which from the past 
history of Rev. T. L. Harris, one of its 
founders, we suppose to be .Spiritualistic, 
and one in Iowa, which admits only male 
members. 

II. Another and more numerous sect of 
Perfectionists, though, perhaps, we should 
hardly call them a sect since they have very 
generally retained their connection with the 
denominations to which they had previously 
belonged, are those persons, who in con- 
nection with Methodist, Congregationalist, 
Baptist, and Adventist Churches, hold to 
the doctrine that it is not only possible 
to attain, but that they have actually 
attained to a condition of sinless perfection, 
complete freedom not only from sinful acts 




Q 






g 






id 

a.1 



CHURCH ARCHITECTURE, PAST AND PRESENT. 



5G7 



and deeds but from all sinful thoughts or 
■^ords and from uny ])romptings to sin. This 
dueti-ine, sometimes called the doctrine of 
Perfect Holiness, sometimes Oberlinism. 
since it was strongly advocated at Oberlin, 
Ohio, has a considerable following ; and 
under the names of " I'he Higher Christian 
I>ife," or " Complete Sanctitication," has 
been largely preached and written about 
within a few yeiirs past. We cannot say 
that in our experience, those who professed 
it have generally given evidence of greater 
purity or real holiness than others who 
made no such exalted profession ; but while 
conformity to the Divine model is a thing to 
be sought after and labored for, we do not 
believe it is often attained in this life. 

With our notice of these believers in Per- 
fection we close our sketch of Religious De- 
nominations in America. We may have 
omitted some small sects, but if so, it has not 
been for want of careful search for them. 
AVe have not deemed it necessary to say 
anything of Mohammedans, Buddhists, or 



Sintauists, though we believe there are two 
or three congregations of each in California, 
and perhaps one or two in New York. The 
Ilusso-Greek Church has a chapel in New 
York City, one in San Francisco, and one 
or two in Alaska, but its adherents are 
probably less than 500 in all. The religious 
rites and ceremonies of the Indian tribes of 
the West, vary too much to be described 
within our limits. The Pueblo Indians of 
New Mexico, and the small remains of the 
Toltec tribes still found in New Mexico and 
Arizona, yet maintain some forms of that 
Sun and Fire Worship which so clearly 
fixes their origin in the plains of Mesopo- 
tamia. In some sections of the South, the 
Negroes, and especially those who were na- 
tives of Western Africa, stOl maintain in 
secret the Fetich or 0-be-ah Worship. In 
considering the nearly one hundred and fifty 
denominations here enumerated with their 
widely varying creeds, we find it as true 
now as in olden times, that " God made man 
upright, but he sought out many inventions." 



CHURCH ARCHITECTURE, PAST AND PRESENT, IN THE UNITED STATES. 



In connection with the preceding history 
of religious denominations in the United 
States, it seems appropriate that we should 
touch briefly on the edifices devoted to reli- 
gious worship. During the Colonial period, 
and indeed till about fSJO, the church edi- 
fices making any pretension to architectu- 
ral beauty, were very few. One or two in 
Pxiston, two or three in New Y'ork, per- 
haps two in Pliiladelphia, one or two 
beside the Roman Catholic cathedral in 
Baltimore, one in Charleston, and one in 
Providence were so far beyond the ordinary 
churches in style and ornamentation that 
they were regarded as marvels. In the 
ciiuiitry, especially in the newer settlements, 
the church edifice, like the rude dwellings, 
was of logs, and the seats of hewed slabs, 
thrust between the logs at one end and sus- 
tained at the other by a block or some rough 
wooden legs. The pulpit was a section of 
the butt of a tree dug out and sometimes 
had a hewn slab pinned on it with wooden 
pins. The floor was oftenest of hard beaten 



earth, but sometimes of split planks; the 
roof of bark or thatch and in rare cases of 
half-hewn logs with clay cement for the 
chinks. Glass in the windows was a rarity ; 
oftener they were mere wooden shutters, ad- 
mitting the light when thrown open but ad- 
mitting, in their season, the wintry breezes 
also. There were no means of warming the 
house of God even when it was of better 
architecture than this, for two reasons: one 
that at this period stoves and furnaces 
were not in existence on this side of the 
Atlantic ; the other that it was incom- 
patible with the ideas of the fathers, that 
people should be allowed to take comfort 
in the house of Gtod, except in the 
preaching of the Word. Was not the 
promise made on this very condition "K 
thou refrain thy foot from the Sabbath, from 
doing thine own pleasure on my holy day," 
&c., and did not that evidently mean that 
people should not go to a good comfortable 
church, nicely warmed and ventilated lest it 
should be a doing of their own pleasure? 




J'\rst Church m ConnecciciU. 




Ancient Dutch Church in Albany. 




Ancient Swedes' Church, Philadelphia. 

It is impossible to give anything like a general variety in modern styles of church 
edifices in our illustrations, they are so numerous ; but the specimens of the old and new 
we here introduce, will give a good general idea of the improvements which have been 
made. 




SOUTH CHURCH, NEW BKITAIN, CONX. 



[^CuityiCjUtiunal.) 



570 



CnrUCH AECHITECTCRE, PAST AND PKESEyT. 



Thev might get asleep if they were so com- 
fortable. In the older settlements, the log 
cabin churches and school houses had given 
place to hu2e barn-like structures, lofty and 
bare and cold, with great square pews as 
lariie as the bed chambers of a modem 
dwelling, with high partitions, where each 
family sat by itself like the witnesses in a 
court, the jury in the jury-box, or, in many 
cases, like the criminal in his pen, when the 
judge is about to pronounce sentence on him. 
The mother or grandmother, in respect for 
their age aud dignity, were allowed to bring 
their footstoves, little square boxes of perfo- 
rated tin, having a little iron dish of live 
coals within them, and with these, while in- 
haling the charcoal ftimes, they were fain 
to keep their feet from freezing in the win- 
ter: but the father, and the sons, and the 
little children were allowed no such foolish 
indulgence. After tramping through the 
snow perhaps for mUes, they took their 
seats in their pews with the temperature 
anywhere from 32^ to zero, and listened as 
well as they could, while the preacher read 
his discourse, going on often to seventeenthly 
or eighteenthly, while the children either 
played with the house dog, who was a regu- 
lar attendant upon the church and had his 
place in the pew, or amuse 1 themselves with 
some of the few objects in which they could 
find occupation for their mental and physical 
activity. The number of panes of glass in 
the great windows were counted over and 
over again ; the calculation was made 
with an elaboration of the doctrine of chan- 
ces, wor;hy of a Babbage or De Morgan, 
how manv weeks, months, or years woidd 
elapse before the huge sounding board over 
the pulpit would fell, and whether it would 
come down on the minister's head like an 
extinguisher on a candle, and whether the 
little tub perched on a post in which he 
preached would be crushed in the downfall. 
Occasionally a child of uncommonly quick 
perception would find some gratification, as 
the minister announced his " tifteenthly " 
and •• sixteent'dy " in computing how much 
time he woidd be likely to consume in the 
heads yet to come ; but such an idea as a 
child's being able to understand what the 
minister was preaching about, never entered 
the heads of parent or minister. How should 
it? The sermons were mostly doctrinal, 
masterly expositions and logical arguments 
on the great points of the Cahinistic theolo- 
gy, but it required the matured minds of 



] the sturdy thinkers of those days to com- 
prehend their force and pertinence. Uhe 
sermons of that time were long : not merely 
an hour, but often two and three hours in 
duration. We read of one of the worthies 
of that time, a shming ligiit in the Massa- 
chusetts ministry, that " Le was a most god- 
ly and /)ai'n/W preacher " (don't laugh, read- 
er, painful in those days meant painstakirg) ; 
and that on one occasion he preached to his 
people a good three hours, in the niomiEg 
of a very wintry day: and after tl ey had 
taken food, he belabored them for their sins 
and shortcomings, in the afternoon, by the 
space of four hours more." In the cities, 
the churches were mostly frame buildings, 
though a few brick and stone were put up. 
One or two of the Dutch churches in Ntw 
York were built of small red and black 
brick imported fi-om Amsterdam, but very 
few had any architectural beauty. The Old 
Brick Church in !New York, (Rev. Dr. 
Spring's) on Park Row, was in its day con- 
sidered one of the finest churches in the 
city ; if standing now it would hardly be 
considered a respectable stable (the use to 
which abandoned churches are generally 
put in that city). Indeed as late as 183(i, 
forty-two years ago, there were not in the 
whole country twenty churches which could 
be considered specimens of graceful arclii- 

j tecture. The great fire of 1635. which de- 
stroyed the second church edifice whith the 
corporation of Trinity church had erected, 

! as well as several other churches in that 

I part of the city, was incidentally the impulse 
to great improvements in church architec- 
ture. The present Trinity church, " a jot ra 
in stone," was erected on the ruins of its 
predecessor, and Grace church soon after. 

. From that time New York began to be 
noted for the beauty of its • church edi- 
fices, many of them erected at enormous 
cost. Other cities followed the example ; 
some, indeed, had already commenced the 
erection of beautifiil churches. The Gothic 
styles, Early, Norman, Spanish, Mediaval, 
and English, were the favorites for many 
years, and even now have their advocates. 
Of late years, however, there has been a 
greater independence of the forms of Ancient 
and Medieval art on the part of our archi- 
tects, and while the styles of the Renais- 
sance, and the ancient classical, are foimd 
more fi-equently than formerly, there is a de- 
sire which now and then finds expression in 
stone, iron, or bricks and mortar, to origin- 



CHURCH ARCHITECTCRE, PAST AND PRESENT. 



571 



ate designs more appropriate to our own time, 
our climate and the new materials for build- 
ing which we have. Sometimes this leads 
to very singular structures, experiments, it 
would seem upon public taste and endurance. 
Under the name of Italian Renaissance we 
have particolored buildings of red and cream- 
colored stone, or black and white marbles, 
with a profusion of spires, turrets, and finials, 
and crowned with a massive dome ; in one 
of the so-called American styles we have 
broad, squat iron buildings, low, but crowned 
in the center with a high, towering dome, 
reminding one of a huge foundry. Another ' 
American style studiously plain, and un- 
doubtedly capacious and comfortable for 
accommodating an audience, seems intended j 
for two towers, whereof one is cut short at 
the height of the ridge-pole of the church, 
and the other forgetting its original intent 
presently shoots up into a lofty spire (usual- 
ly of wood, but covered with slate) so slen- 
der and fragile, that it seems most like a 
monster darning-needle, set up on end. But 
these partial failures only serve as waymarks 
to a more perfect architecture which shall in 
the end attract the attention of the world by ] 
its grace and adaptation to the purposes for ' 
which it is intended. City churches are not ' 
as yet all models of beauty, but they are 
improving in these respects very rapidly. In 
their interior arrangement there has been a 
great advance. The old-fashioned pew has 
been banished and the modem slip or cush- ' 
ioned seat, low, easy, readily accessible and 
attractive has taken its place. The pulpit I 



is not now a perch or eyrie from which the 
preacher can get a bird's eye view of his 
congregation, but a simple reader's desk on 
a raised platform. PiUars are either entirely 
dispensed with or are so small as not to in- 
terfere with the view of the pulpit. Warm- 
ing and ventilation have been the subject of 
anxious and protracted thought, and though 
we can hardly say as yet that either is per- 
fect, yet we are so rapidly approximating to 
perfection in these particulars, that the pres- 
ent generation will probably be able to 
realize it. The Sunday School and Bible 
Classes have come to be such important 
agencies in religious progress, that special 
accommodations are required and provided 
for them, usually in a separate buUding, but 
attached to the church. And so strong are 
the demands for social life in connection 
with the church, that most of the newer 
church edifices have their parlors, retiring 
rooms, ante-rooms, committee rooms, and 
many of them pastor's studies and church 
libraries in connection with the church edi- 
fices. 

The churches in the country come up 
slowly to these improvements, and those of 
the Southern and Western States more 
slowly than those of the Eastern or Middle 
States ; but the progress in all is encourag- 
ing. Still great as has been the advance of 
the last forty years, we are, as a nation, far 
behind most foreign nations in the number, 
the splendor, or the costliness of our temples 
for religious worship. 



INDEX 



Accident insnrance companies, 227. 

"Academician,"" the first educational ptriodical,S93. 

Academies and hiEjh aclioots, 8S8. 

"Academy," an, in Virginia. 377. 

Adams, Hannah, works of, 2So. 

Adams, Mr., designer and wood engraver, 332. 

Adams, Juhn, extract from, upon education, 352. 

Adams, John Quincy, wnrks and career o£^ 376; extract 
from, upon education. 353. 

Adams press, the, 2!)7 ; illustration oi, 295. 

Adirondac iron mines. 25. 

Adventure copper mine, the, 54. 

Advertising, newspaper, 304. 

jEtna Insurance Company. 222, 

Agricultural macliines, use of, at the "West, 176. 

Agriculture, schools of. 402. 

Alabama, iron mines and furnaces of, 2S; banks and banking 
in, 203. 

Albany, iron foundries of, 36. 

Albion coal mines, Nova Scotia, 129. 

Alcuin, Bible copied by, in 22 years, 26t. 272. 

Alfred, King, price foi- a book paid by, 2G2, 

Alison, liev. Francis, 349, 

Alleghany mctuntain, iron ores of the, 28. 

Allston, Washington, e-irecr of, as a painter and author, 321. 

Almaden quicksilver mines, Spain, 111. 

Alphabets for the blin<i,440. 

Aluminum, discovery and uses of, 251. 

Amalgamation for extraction of gold, 74 ; Eaton's Improve- 
ment in, 76. 

AmaUams, uses of, 114. 115. 

America, discovery of, 22S; colonization of, 229, 234. 

American Academy of Fine Arts, 320, 335. 

American Academy of Natural Sciences, museum and library 
of the, 427. 

"American Annals of Eilucation," 39S. 

American Asylum for the Ueaf and Dumb, 435, 436 ; view o£ 
4:37. 

American Bible Society, formation and issues of the, 2fit. 

American Biblo Union, organization and imblieations of the, 
264. 

American Institute of Instruction. 397. 

"American Journal of Educatitm.' 39-5. 399. 

American Female Guardian Society. 449. 

Am.'rican Philosophical Society, origin of the, 349. 

American Telegraph Company, 313. 

Ames, Messrs., foundry of, GS. 

Ancram lead mine, New York. 82. 

Anifisthesia, discovery and use of. 261, 

Anderson. Dr., early engraving hy, 332. 

Andover Theological School, 393. 

Aniline, origin and value of. 149. 

Annapolis, Md., Naval Aeademy at, 396. 

Anthracite coal, use of, in iron-making, 23; first successful 
application of, 25-6; tirst knowledge and use of. 120; 
ecological position of. 122; composition and varieties o^ 
123; strata oC illustrated, 131-2; mining of. 142; open 
quarries of. 14:i; c<mcentr.ation of bc-ds of, 144; breaking 
and screening of, 147; employment of, in house-warm- 
ing, 24S. 

Appalachian coal-basin, IW. 

Appalaehian mountains, gold mines of the. 64. 

Apidet(m. D.. Al Co., sales of Wobator's Spelling-book, Jcc, 
by, 2U, iOS. 



Aquaregia, 107. 

Aquatint engraving. 334. 

Architecture, domestic, 245; modern improvements In, 247, 

Argentiferous lead ores, methods of working, 90. 

Arizona, ricti gold deposits of, 71 : silver mines of, 115, 

Arkansas, magnetic iron in, 32; zinc in, 98; banks in, 207. 

Arks, transportation of coal by, 136. 

Arrastre, the. description and illustration of^ 75. 

Arsenic associated with zinc. 100. 

Arts of <Iesign in America, 816. 

Assay office. New York, gold deposits at the, 79 ; establish- 
ment of the, 215. 

Associated Press, the, 303 ; use of the telegraph by, 313. 

Astor Library, 424. 

Atlantic cities, account of the, 181 ; table of exports of the, 
187; of imports, 192. 

Atlantic Mutual Marine Insurance Company, 223. 

Atlantic Telejraph, history of the, 314. 

Atwood. Luther, patent coal-oil kiln of, 153. 

Audubon. John James, career and works of, 283. 

Austin, Moses, mining operations of, 86. 

Authors, American, 274; younger, list of, 231. 

Bachus, Elijah. manuf:ictnre of cannon by, 19. 

Backus, Li-vi S., deaf-mute editor. 4;i9. 

Backus. Senator F. F., report of, upon the instruction of 
idiots, 443. 

Bacon. Uov. Samuel, proposal of, for an educational journal, 
393. 

Bain's electro-chemical telegr.aph, 310 (lllustratitm), 812. 

ilaldface Mountain. N. H,, iron ort'S of, 24. 

Baltimore, ir*on mines U'-ar. 22; the charcoal iron of, 23; 
copper smelting at. 59 ; chrome at US; recei[>ts of coal 
at, 139; oriirin, growth, and commerce of, 183; orphan 
asylums in. 445. 

Baltimore Gotnpiiiy's open coal mines. Wilkesbarre, Pa., 
pieture of. opposite 137; account ol^ 144. 

Baker. (Jeorgo A., painter, 325. 

Bakoo. thi- petroleum of, IGl. 

Bancroft. George. 284. 

Bank note engraving. 3:33. 

Bank of the United States, the, charter of, 200-201 ; winding 
up and rccharter of. 201; ojK^rations of. 201-2; removal 
of the deposits from, '.J02 ; State charter and failuro of, 
203. 

Banking, method of, in New York, 193; Suffolk system of, 
203; safety-fund and free, 2W; National and private, 
2U. 

Banks, disastrous speculations of, 170, 172; State, establish- 
ment anil operations of. 199; over-issues of. 200; oppo- 
sition of, to the United States Bank. 201 ; suspension of, 
in 1^14,201; increase and expansion of, 202; failure o^ 
in ls;J7. 203; history of, 203-9 ; table of, 1791-1860,209; 
method of transacting business bv, 210* settling of bal- 
anci'S by, 210-11. (See National banks.) 

Bare Hill copper mine. Maryland. 49; chromium at. US. 

Barnard. Henrv, educational journals edited by, 398-9. 

Barm-s, A. S„ Ji Co.. sates of school books by, 268. 

Bars, iron, how made, 39. 

Bartlett J. R.. illustration of the New Almaden quicksilver 
mine bv. 1 14. 

Barytes, Bu'lphate of. used In adulterating white lead, 95. 

Beaumont's method of arresting lead fumes, 90. 

Bedsteads and bedding formerly used, 250. 



573 



Beecher, Miss Catharine E^ 2S5 ; efforts of, for female educa- 
tion, 405. 

Bel;;iuin. zinc manufacture in, 101. 

Bc-lieville. N. J., cupper mine at, 49. 

Beil-meial, composition and use of, 6:3, 120. 

Bells, production of, GS. 

Bonnet, William James, painter, 820. 

Bc-nnett, James Gordon, 303. 

Benton, Thomas IL, works of, 277. 

Benzole, character and use of, 14S. 

Berkeley, Sir William, report of, upon education In Virtjinia, 
341. 

Berk'i county, Pa., iron mines of, 26. 

Bi-rkshire, Mass., iron mines and furnaces of, 24. 

BethK'liem, Pa., manufacture of zinc at, 99, lU4 ; MoraviaD 
female seminary at, 349, 404, 

Beuthen, Silesia, zinc mines at. 103. 

Bible, the. early printing of, SGi ; issues and Ion- price of, by 
the Bible Society, 254; Charlemagne's, 264, *2t'i ; vhe. 
educational influences of, 3S1-2. 

Bible Societies, formation of, 264. 

Bills t>f credit. State, constitutional prohibition of. 199, 

Binjrham, Caleb, girls' school of. 405. 

Birch, Thomas, marine painter. 322. 

Birmingham, Eng., manufacture of nails at, 41. 

Bishop sleeves, 258. 

Bituminous coal, first trade in, 121 : geological position of, 
122; character and kinds of, 122; spontaneous combus- 
tion of, 124; beds of, 129 ; mining of, 141. (See Gas, and 
Coal oils.) 

Blackjack, 96. 

Black river. Wis., iron mines of, 30. 

Blanc de neige, 104. 

Blast furnaces in the colonies, 17 ; construction and working 
of, 32; American, superior economy of. 3;i ; illustrations 
of. 34, 35; tables of production and distribution of. 46. 

Bleaching powder, manufacture of, from manganese, 119. 

Blende, zinc ore, 96. 

Blind, the, institutions for the instruction of, 439; alphabets 
for, 440; course of instruction of, 441 ; printing for, and 
writing by, 441 ; statistics of, 457. 

Block-tin lining of lead pipe. 92. 

BlomU'ood &. Ambler, silver-lead smeltinsr works of. 9i. 

Blooinaries, description and working of, 36; localities of, 37. 

Blooms, iron, how made, 39. 

Blue mass, preparation of, 115. 

Blue Ridge, the, copper ores of, 49-50; lead mines of, S3. 

Botfhead canncl coal, 123; composition of, 14T. 

BoiT ores, iron, 22. 

Boiler-plate iron, production of, 41. 

Boise Basin gold mines. Idnho, 71. 

Bonnets, fashions of, 254, 257, 25S. 259. 

Book-binding, 269; illustrations of machines for, 270, 271; 
origin of, 272; processes of, 272. 

Books, ancient cost of, 262; effect of the discovery of print- 
ing upon, 263; early market for. in New England. 2&i ; 
religious, cheapening of. 264 ; pr<»cess of the manufacture 
of, 264; methods of the sale of. 265; old. the trade in. 261); 
subscription, publication of, 267; sreat sab's ot^ 267; sta- 
tistics of, 209 ; increased cost and use of, 269; sizes of, 
272. 

Booksellers, American Company of^ 263, 264; number and 
clas.ses of, 265. 

Book stalls, the business of, 266. 

Book trade, the, 262; competition in, 264 ; number engaged 
in, and operations of, 265; the st4iListics of, 269. 

Book trade sales. 265. 

Borneo, platinum from, 107. 

Boston, origin, growth, and ci^mmerce of. 1S5; b.anking sys- 
tem ot^ 203--4; early bookselling at. 26:3; early town pro- 
vision for schools in. 3:39; past experiences in the high 
schools of. 390, 391 ; orphan asylums in. 445. 

Boston AtheniBum, art gallery of the, 335 ; library of the, 423, 
427. 

Boston City Library, 424, 425-6 (illustrations). 

" Boston Courant," the, 301. 

Bniidwood, Thomas, in Vii-ginia. 435. 

Bniidwoiids, the. deaf-mute in^tructors, 435, 439. 

Braille's system of writing and printing for the blind, 441. 

BramaVs pump for making lead pipe, 92. 

Eniss, mimufacture and uses of. 62. 

Bray, Ilev. Thomas, libraries in Maryland established by, S4S. 

Bread, kinds of, formerly most used, 252. 

Breckenridge Coal Oil Works, Kentucky, 154. 

Bremen, regulations for emigrants at, 233. 

Bnck, invention of machines for, 244. 

Bridir** water, Vt.. gold at. 64, 

Bridijewater copper mine. New Jersey, 49. 

Bristol, Conn., copper mine at, 49. 

British coal-fields, the, 133. 

British immigration into the United States, 234-5. 



Brokers, board of. New Tork. 195. 
Bronze, composition ot, 62, 63 "i20, 
Brooklyn, manufacture oi white lea(' in, 940; orphan asylums 

in, 445. « 1 / 

Brooks, Mrs. Maria, 2S5. 
Brown, Charles B^ works of, 27>t. 
Brown, Henry Kirk^, sculptcir, works o.', 325. 
Brown, Thomas, deaf-mute. 439. 

Brown. William, process of, for dry distillation of coal oil, 158. 
Brown coal, beds of, 122. 
Brown University, origin of, .344. 
Brownson, Orestes A,, writines of. 2S2. 
Bruce, George, Jr., type-cnsting machine invented by, 298. 
Bruce, Ge<»rge, Sr.. stereotyping introduced by, 300. 
Bryant, Wilii;:m C, 2&4, 
Buckingham, Joseph T., letter of, upon his early school ex* 

perience, 359. 
Buckminster, Joseph -S., 2S2. 
Buffalo, origin, growth, and trade of, 1T6. 
Biihrstone iron ore, 22. 
Building associations, fallacy of, 225. 
Buildings, ventilation of, 249. (See Houses.) 
Bulls and bears, in stock operations, 196. 
Burden, Henry, rotary squeezer invented by, 39 ; machinea 

of, for spikes and horse-shoes, 43. 
Bureaus, former style of. 250. 

Burke rocker, the, ilhistration and description of, 74. 
Burrnah, the petroleum of, 161. 
Burnett, John T., deaf-mute writer, 439. 
BurninET-tiuid, use of, for light, 253. 
Burr, Thomas, process of, for makinc: lead pipe, 91. 
Buna Bnrra Mining Company, 50, 51. 
iiushnell, Horace, 2S2 ; extract from, upon the homespun era 

of common schools, 369. 
Bushnell s anthracite stove. 24S. 

Bussey, Benjamin, bequest of, to Harv.ard College, 401. 
Bustle, use and construction of the. 258, 
Butler, E. H., & Co., sales of school books by, 268. 
Butler, W. Allen, 281, 

Calamine, silicate of zinc, 96, 97. 

(;;ilash, the. for the head, 254. 253. 

Calhoun, John C, career and works of. 277. 

California, history, methods, and yield of gold-mining in, 71-3 ; 
quicksilver mines of,lU-12; silver mines of, 116; petro- 
leum in, 167. 

California Quicksilver MiningjAssociatton, 112. 

Camphene, introduction and use of. 25:3. 

Canada, railroads of, 173; public improvements and trade of^ 
179; effect of the reciprocity treaty with, 179. 

Canada East, gold mines of, 64. 

(_'anada West, oil region of, 167. 

Canals, in California, for gold-minin;:, 72 ; built for coal trans- 
portiition, 139, 140(tal)le); opening of, 171,172; effect of, 
upon Western trade and settlement, 172. 

Candles, paraffine, manufacture of, 159 ; use and varieties of, 
253. 

Cannel coals, use of, in manufacturing gas, 150. 

Cannon, manufacture of, in the revolution, 19. 

Cape Breton, coal-field of, 129. . 

Carbonate of iron, ores and mines of. 21. 

Carlin, John, deaf-mute artist, 439. 

Carlisle tables, the, of average duration of life, 224; inaccura- 
cy of, 226. 

Carpets, early use of, 250. 

Casiillero, Andres, working of cinnabar by, 112. 

Cast iron, manufacture of. 32 ; uses of, 30; decarbonizing o!^ 
36; manufacture of steel from, 44, 

Castle Garden. New York, emicrant depot, 240. 

Central Park, the, of New York. 190, 

Ceracchi, sculptor, career of, 326. 

Chairs, old and new varieties of. 250. 

Champlain canal, opening of, 171. 

Chandler, Abiel, 401. 

(.-handler Scientific School. 400. 

Channing, William E., writings of, 291. 

Chapman, John G.. painter and designer, 328^ 

Character, formation of, 3S3. 

Charcoal, use of, in iron-making, 22. 

Chariemagne's Bible, 204, 272. 

Charleston, origin, growth, and commerce of, 1S3. 

(Charleston Library Society, 423. 

Charlotte, N. C, branch mint at, 64; gold deposits at, 19, 

t'hatham, Conn., cobalt mine at, IS; nickel at, 117. 

Chaudiere river, gold mines of. 64. 

Cheever, Kev. George B.. D. D., 280. 

Cheever, Ezekiel. schoolmaster, 340. 

Cherokee lands, the, of Georcia, 69. 

Chesapeake, iron mines on the, 22. 

Chesapeake and Ohio canal, charter for, 171. 

Chester coonty, Pa., lead mines ot\ 83. 



574 



INDEX 



Chestnut Hill iron mine. Pa., 20; account of, 27. 

Chica^u. tradt; and railroad system of, 177; shipments of flour 
and iri'iiiii Iroiii, Hi. 

Chicago City University, view of, 412. 

Clii!d, Mrs. Lydia Maria, worlts of, 265. 

Children's Aid S<»ciety, New York, 449. 

Chilian mill, the, 75. 

Chillicothe. Ohio, first land office opened at, 169. 

Chin.i, qnifksilver mines of. 111. 

Chinese immigration into California, 282. 

Chlorine, mannfaetiire of. from mrinffanese, 119. 

Chromi'. ccimposition and sources uf, 118; uses and treatment 
of, 118. 

Chrome Iron In Maryland, 27, 23. 

Chrysncolla, 4S. 

Church, landscape paintinss of, 325. 

Cinnabar, 111; early knowledgo of, in California, 112; metal- 
lui'gic treatment of, 114. 

Cincinnati, orisin, prowth. and trade of, 180. 

Circular s iw, invention ot the, 247. 

Cities, lake, account of, 176; recapitulation, 178; river, ISO; 
recapitulation, ISl ; Atlantic, 181. 

Clausthal, lead-melting at, 69; treatment of argentiferous 
ores at, 116. 

Clay, Henry, 277. 

Clay^B plan fur making wrought Iron, 87. 

Clearing house system, the, 2ln. 

Clerc, Laurent, deaf-mute, 435, 439. 

Clergymen, distinguished, list of, 282. 

Cleveland, origin and trade of, 176J; direct trade of, with Eu- 
rope, 177. 

Clevenger, Shobal Vail, sculptor, 826. 

Cliff cn[)per mine, the, 5=}. 

Clinton, I>i^ ll\'itt, extract from, upon education, 353. 

Clinton county, New York, iron works of, 25; bloomsrios 
in, 87. 

Clocks, tormer styles of, 251. 

Clymer ]»res9, the, 2S7. 

Coal, early neglect and first use of, 120; varieties ct 121 ; the 
ash of, 123; composition of dirt'erent kinds of, 122, 123 
(table); qualities of, 123; relative values of, 124 (table); 
geological and geograpUiail distribution of, 124; strata 
of, illustrated, 121», 13U; amount of, available, I^iS; rela- 
tive amount of, in Europe and America, 134 (tabic); pro- 
duction of, in eastern Pennsylvania and Maryland, 
1820-18GO, 134-5 (table); transportation of, to market, 
135; Uible of public works for, 140; mining, general 
account of, 140; useful aiiplications of, 144. (See An- 
thracite, Bituminous, &c.) 

Coal Hill lead mine. New Y<.rk. 83. 

Coal mining, early, on James river, 18. (See Coal.) 

Coal oils, manufacture of, 105; table of American factories of, 
155; history and method of the manufacture of, 156; 
coals used for, 157; retorts for, 157; kilns and pits for, 
158; process of refining, 153; uses of, 160; use of, lor 
light, 160, 252. (See Petroleum.) 

Coal tiir, nr(»duction and composition of, 143. 

Coats, fas^iioiis of, 25;^. 257, 258. 

Cobalt, mine of, at Cliatham. Conn., 18; useof,116; ores and 
mines of, 1 17 ; treatment of, 1 17. 

Coinagi", colonial, 212-13; adoptiim of Jefferson's plan of, 
213; modifications of, 214. 215; table of, 1T93-1SG0, 214; 
of silver, number of pieces, 216; process of, 217 ; of pla- 
tinum, 107. 

Coins, fori-'ign. in the colonics, 213. 

Coke, production of, 150; from coal-oil works, 159. 

Cole, Thonuis, career and paintings of, 324. 

College of New Jersey, charter (if, 348. 

Colleges in the XTnite'd States, 392; table of. 452-8. 

Colliery slope and breaker at Tuscarora, I'a., picture, oppo- 
site 139; description of, 142, 144. 

Colonies, ttie, is^uo of paper monev bv, 193; coinage in, 
212-13; literature in, 274; education'in, 337. 

Colorado, gold mines of, 71. 

Cnilumbia (.'ollese. New York, origin of, 347. 

Columbian or Clymer press, the, 2^7. 

Colu[ubite and columbium, discovery of, 13. 

Combination press, the, 287. 

•^ ComrntTeial Advertiser," New Yorli, 302. 

Commercial schools, 403. 

** Common School Almanac," 393. 

"Commttn Schocd Assistant," 393. 

Common pchools, act^ounts of the early state of, 855-80 ; State 
provisions for the maintenance of, 385-6; present condi- 
tion of, 387. 

"Common Sense," Paine's, 275. 

Communipaw, N. J., zino manufacture at, 104. 

Congress, school laws of, 354 ; library of, 42;}, 427. 

Conneolirut, early mining in, 17 ; iron mines and furnaces of, 
24; copper mines of, 48 ; lead minrs of, 82; manulactiire 
•f tin in, 120; town action for scboole Id, 339; colonial 



legislation of, upon education, 844; provisions of, for the 

support of schools, 8s6. 
"Connecticut Common School Journal," 898. 
C(|ntinental money, issues and depreciation of, 199, 245. 
Cooking, former method of, 253, 
Cooking ranse, the, 253. 
Cooper, James Fenimore, difficulty experienced by, in getting 

a book printed, 264; works of, 279. 
Cooper Union, New York, 434. 
Copley, John Singleton. 318. 
Copper, ores of, 43; mines vf.i^etaeg.; process of mining, 

on Lake Superior, 52 ; statistics of, 5G-8 ; ancient uses o^ 

60; ni'idern uses of, 61 ; sheet, manufacture of, 61 ; alloys 

of, 61, 62-3; mines of, 116. 
Copper mining in the colonies, 18. 
Copper-plate engraving, 333. 
('opper-snudtinp^ 53; processes of, 59. 

Coram, Itobert, account of country schools by, in 1791, 878. 
Cornell's lead-pii>e machine. 92. 
Cornwall, Pa., iron iiiiuis of, 26. 
Ctistume, chani^'es in, illustrated. 2.%3. 
"Courier and Enquirer," New York, 302. 
Crawford, sculptor, career and works of; 82T, 
Credit syst.-m, of New York. 191-2. 
Cretins, Dr. Guugenbubrs school for, 443. 
Crockery, former style of, 251. 
Croton aqueduct, the. 249. 
Crucibles for steel-making, 44, 45. 
Cuba, the bitumen of, 161. 

CummiuL's, Thomns S., miniature painter, 323. 
Cupellation of arsentiferous lead, 90. 
Cupcda furnaces for copper sines, 60. 

Currency, national issues of. 211. (See Banks, Paper money.) 
Curtius, Dr. Alexander Carolus, 347. 
Cut nails, invention of, 41, 246. 

Dagnerreotyping, intmduction of, 261 ; American use and 
improvement of, 835. 

Dahlonega, Ga., branch mint at, 64; gold-mining at, 70; gold 
deposits at, 79. 

Damascus Steel Company, 44. 

Danville. Pa., iron furnaces at, 24. 

Darley, F. O. C, desiirner, 325. 

Darliiiirttm, William, letter of, upon country schools, 370. 

T)artmouth College, origin of, 345. 

Davenport, Itev. John, 8:19, 340. 

Davidson county, N. C. gold in, 69 ; lead In, 84. 

Davidson sisters, the, 286. 

Davis, John, account of an old field school in Virginia by, 877. 

Davy, Sir Humphry, improvement in copper sheathing by, 61. 

Day, Benjamin H.. "first penny paper published by, 30.1 

Deaf and dumb, the in-titntions for the instruction of, 434; 
natural cmdition of. 437; methods of instructing, 438; 
distinguished individuals among, 439; statistics of, 456 
(table). 

Deep Kiver co.il-beds. North Carolina, 129. 

Delaware, banks in, 205; colonial school legislation of, 849. 

Delaware and Hudson canal, coal transportation of, 139. 

I)e rE|»ee's method of deaf-mute instruction, 435, 43S. 

Demand notes issued by Government, 211. 

Dentistry, use of platinum in, 109. 

Detmold, C. E., report of, 104. 

Detroit, copper-smelting at, 60 ; origin and railroad connec- 
tions (.f, 177. 

De%vey, Orville, works of, 282. 

Die sinking, 334. 

Discounts bv banks, 109, 200. 

District of Columbia, banks in, 209. 

Dollar, the Sp.nnish, 213. 

Dorn gold mine. South Carolina, 69. 

Doughty, Thomas, painter, 324. 

Drake, Col. E. L., petroleum production developed by, 168L 

Dress, styles of. by periods, 25;i; illustrations of, 256-6. 

Drummers fttr New York jobbing houses, 183, 

Dry digirinirs, gold, 73. 

Dubuque, discovery of lead mines at, 18. 

Dubuque, Julien. lead mines worked by, 84. 

Dummer, Gov. William, educati<mal legacy of, 844. 

Dunlap, William, ]iainti'r and author, 319. 

Durand, Asher B., landscape and portrait painter, 323. 

Dutch colonization in America, 229. 

Dutch ;:<dd-lcaf, 60. 

Dutch West India Company, educational policy of the, 883. 

Dutchess countv. N. Y., lead mines of, 82, 

Dwight, Hon Edmund. 4iK). 

Dwight, Timothv, D. D., works of, 281 ; school of, at Green- 
field, 40.\ 

Dyestone iron ore in Tennessee, 23. 

East India School, the, at Charles City, Va., 337. 

Eaton, A. K., inventions of, for decarbonizing caet iroa^Stf ; 



575 



for makinfT Steel, 44; improvement of, in amalgamatioD, 

76; C'lmiiounds of chromium obtained by, 119. 
Eaton, Governor, of Kew Haven, promotion of education by, 

840. 
Eaton, N. II., lead mine at, 82. 
Eaton copper mine, Pennsylvania, 49. 
Edmonds, Francis W,, painter, 323. 
Education in thi* colonies. 83T ; revolutionary and transitional 

period of, S^A ; extracts upon the benefits of, 352 ; action 

of Conaress upon, 8M ; social influences favorable to, 3S0 ; 

considerations upon the nature of, 383; upon the pn-sent 

system of, 385; w<»rk3 on the principles and methods of, 

897 ; journals of, S9S. 
Edwards, Jonathan, 274. 

Ehniny:er, .lohn W., painter and designer, 325. 
Electrotypin^, process of. 300. 
Eliot and Storer, analysis of zinc by, 100. 
Ellenville. N. Y., lend and copper mines at, 82. 
Elliott, Charles L., portrait jminter. 320. 
Emancipatinn proclamation, effect of the, upon the book 

trade, SCO. 
Emb'issinir machine, for books, 271 (illustration), 272. 
Emerson, George B., voung ladies' school of, 405. 
Emers'»n, Rev. Joseph, young ladies' school of, 405. 
Emiprati'm, early, to America, 2"29; from German v. 232; from 

Great Britain, 234; from Ireland. 235; English law for 

the regulation of. 23G; Commission o(^ at New York, 

operations of, 240 ; statistics of, 240. 
Emlfrrants, treatment of. at Liverpool, 236; cjire of, at New 

York, 240; table of location of, 242 ; expenses and capitid 

of, '14^; remittances of. 243. 
England, introduction of illuminating gas into, 145; origin of 

newspapers in, 801-2. 
English, the, cnlonizatron of America by, 229. 
English basement houses, 247. 
Engraving in the United States, present and past state of, 

illustrated, 329, 831 ; wood, improvements in, 332; cop- 
perplate and steel, 833. 
Enreqiiita quicksilver mine. California, 112. 
Einiitable Life Insurance Company, London, 225. 
Erie canal, construction of, 171 ; effect; of, upon western trade 

and settlement, 172. 
Erie, Pa., building of Perry's fleet at, 169-70. 
Erie railroad. 172. 

" Essays lo do Good," by Cotton Mather. 274. 
Essex county, N. Y., iron mines of, 25 ; bloomaries in, 3T. 
Etching, jfrocess of, 334. 
Eureka copper mine, Tennessee. 50. 
Eveleth and Bissell. petrcdeum operations of, 162. 
"Eveninir Post," New Y< irk. 302. 
Everett, Alexander, career of. 277. 
Everett, Edw:ird, career of. 2T7; account of former school life 

in Bost<in by. Sftl ; ;tt Harvard College, 392. 
Exchange, course of, at New York, 193-4 ; par of, how ascer- 

Liined, 212. 
Exports of the Atlantic citi.*s, table of, 187. 
Express, transmission of newspapers by, 306. 
Expresses, origin and extension of, 1S3. 
Extension tables, inveniion of, 250, 

Faculties, development of the, 3S4. 

Fairm<umt Water Works, 249. 

Falling Creek, Va., iron woiks at, 17. 

Family instruction. coloni:(l law for, in Massachusetts, 343. 

Family training, educatiunal influence of, SSI. 

Fanny Fern, 2S5. 

Farmers' Hiirh t^chool of Pennsylvania, 402. 

Fashions, changes in, illustrated, 253. 

Fay, Theodore S.. works of, 2S0. 

"Federalist," the, 275. 

Felt hats, introduction of, 253. 

Female education. 404. 

Female writers, list of. 2S5. 

Fiction, ereat sales of books of, 267 ; writers of, 27S. 

Field, Cyrus W., est.iblishment of the Atlantic telegraph by 

the efforts of. 314. 
Fine arts, instruction in the, 404. (See Arts of design.) 
Fire, losses by, 223. 

Fire insurance companies, 220; statistics of, 222, 22;! 
Fire-places, old-fashioned, 246. 
Fisher, Alvan, painter, 320. 
Fiske, l:ev. Wilbur, 405. 
Fletninston copper mine. New Jersey, 49. 
Flint, Timothy, works of, 2S1. 
Flint fflass made with oxide of zinc. 107. 
Florida, csslon of, 171 ; banks in, 2(»9. 
Folding machine, the, for books, 272; for newspapers, 306. 
Food, f'irmer kinds and preparation of, 252. 
Foreigners in the United States, 22S. 
Forks, kinds of. 251. 
Foundries, iron, 86. 



Four-color printing press, the, 297; illustration of, 294. 

Fowie, William B., account of the early ISoston schools br. 
390. ■" 

Fractional currency, national, 211. 

Fninconia, N. U., iron mines and works of, 24. 

Franklin, Benjamin, bequest of, t». the city of Boston, 199; 
works of, 275; the press used by, 2S6, 2S9 (illustnition); 
first editorial experience of, 301"; the " Phila-lclphia Ga- 
zette" of, 305; educational proposals of, 349; lyceuma 
oritrinated by, 433. 

Franklin, Pa., jietroleum at, 103. 

Franklin co[i[ier mine. New Jersey, 49. 

Franklin copper mine, the, of MichigMo, 54; production of, 58. 

Franklin Institute, the, 403. 

Fninklinite iron ore, 25. 

Fninklinite, manufacture of, from zinc ores, 105-6. 

Frasee, John, sculptor, 326. 

Fraser, Charles, miniature painter. 321. 

Fremont, Col., the mining operations of, 73. 

French indemnity, payment of the, 215. 

French Revolution, fashions during the, 254. 

Friedlunder's alphabet for the blind, 440. 

Frock coat, introduction of the. 257. 

Fry, Richard, bookseller, advertisement of^ 263. 

Fuel, use of gas for, 153. 

Fuels used in iron-smelting, 20 ; for puddling, 38. 

Fuller, S. Margaret, 2S5. 

Fulton, Robert, as an artist, 318. 

Furnaces, iron, construction of, for nnthracite, 23; location 
and working of, 23; for copper-smeltine. 58, 59; for lead- 
smrlting, S8; for zinc, 99, 104 ; for quicksilver, 114; hot- 
air for beatinc, 248. (See Blast furnaces.) 

Furniture, manufacture and varieties of, 249. 

Galena, lend ore. 81. 

Gah'ua and (. liicago railroad, 173. 

Gallaudet. Rev. Thomas H., labors of, for the instruction of 
the deaf and dumb. 435; system of, 43S. 

Galvanized iron, invention, manulacture, and uses of, 40. 

Game, former use of, for food, 252-3. 

Gap copper mine, the. IS. 

Gas, illiiminatin2. history of, 145; cost of, 146; table of com- 
panies for, 146; table of works for, by states, 147; con- 
stituents of, 147; combustion of, 148; construction of 
works for, and process of manufacturing, 149; coals used 
for, 150; the measurement of, 150; economy in the use 
of, 151 ; mnde of testing the quality of, 152 ; from other 
materials than coal, 152; for steamboats and ruilroad 
cars, l&J ; use of, for fuel, 153 ; introduction o^ for light- 
ing streets and houses, 2-19. 

Gas-holders, construction of, 151. 

George IV., fashions introduced by, 257. 

Georgia, iron mines and fnrnaces of, 28 ; copper mines of, 50 ; 
gold mines of, 63, 69 ; banks in, 208; early schools of, 350 ; 
school holiday in. 373. 

German inimi-^raiion into the United States, 232; motives of^ 
233; home etlorts t-. check, 234; causes of, 234. 

German silver, composition of, 63, 117. 

Gitl-book system, the. 266. 

Girard, Stephen, purchase of the United States Bank by, 201, 

Girard College, view of, 40S ; organization of, 446. 

Gisborne, F.^N., ttle<:raph engineer, 814. 

Glass made with oxide of zinc, 107. 

Gleason's " American gas-burner," 152. 

Gold, imitations of. 62: localities and mining of, in the Ap- 
palachian r.inge, C3-T0; in the Rocky Mountains, 70 ; in 
California, 71 ; production of. 1S4S-1S52. 73 ; natural dis- 
tribution of, 73; v.iriation in the value of native, 77; mint 
deposits of, 77-79 (tables); uses made of, SO; platinum 
associated with, 107; iridium, 110; course of the trade in, 
193; coinage of, 214; coins of, 215; mint deposits oi^ 216. 

Gold Hill, N. C, gold-mining at, 69. 

Gold-leaf, manufacture and uses of. SO. 

Gold-mining, iIlu:?trations of. 65-8; processes of, 72-77. 

Gong, Chinese, American manufacture of the, 63. 

Gordon, J. W. W.. 115. 

Gotha Life Insurance Company, Germany, 225. 

Gonl.l, Miss Hannah F., 2S6. 

Grafton, Ohio, the petroleum of, 167. 

Graham, Augustus, process of, for making white lead, 94. 

Grain, tibles of Western shipments of, ITS. 

Grand Trunk railway, the, of Canada, 179, 

Graphite, gerdogical position of, 122. 

Grates, use of, for anthracite, 24S. 

Gravel walls, 246. 

Gray, Henrv Peters, painter, 325. 

Great Brita"in, development of the iron manufacture of, 19; 
lead mines of, 67 process of zinc manufacture in, 99; 
thickness of the coal-beds of, 133 ; succession of races in, 
228; emisrration from. 229. 

Qre«a Mountains, the, iron mines ot^ 24 



676 



INDEX 



Greenbacks, 211. 

Greene, E. L). E., painter, 825. 

Greenough, Horatio, sculptor, career of, 826. 

Greenwood furnace, the, 25. 

Grii'-'Stown, N. J., copper mine near, 49. 

Guadalupe quicksilver mine, California, 112. 

GuKSenbuhl, Dr. Louis, institution of, for cretins, 443. 

Gun"metal, composiiion and uses of, 62-3, 120. 

Guyton de Morveau, zinc paint first recommended by, 1U3. 

Habersham county, Ga., eold mines of, 63. 

Hall, James, works of, 280. , , . j k„ 

Hall, Key. Samuel Read, first teachers' seminary opened by, 

899. 
Halleck, Fitz-Greenc. poems of, 281. 
Hamilton's report, 27.'). 
Hangin<; Kock iron district, the, 29. 
Hardins, Chester, portrait painter, 821. 
Hare, Robert, fusion of platinum by, 109. 
Harnden W F., e-vpress business originated by. !»«. 
Harper & Brothers, publishers, 264, 265; the operations of, 

268. 
" Harper's 'Weekly," 307. o >, i. 

Hartford Society for the Improvement of Common Schools, 

S93. 
Harvard, John, bequest of, to Harvard College, 342. 
Harvard College, foundation of, 342; Everett's account ot life 

at, fifty years ago, 392. 
Harvard University, Scientific School of, 401 ; library of, 424. 
Harvey's or Salter's plan for making wrought iron, 37. 
Hats, fashions of, S.M, 257, 258. 
Hauy, Valenlin. labors of, for the blind, 439. 
Havre, Gennin emigration by w.ay of, 233. 
Hawthorne, Natlianiel, career and works of, 280. 
Hays, W. J., animal painter, 32.5. 
Head-dresses, old styles of, 2.54. 2.58. ^ 
Heinicke's method of deaf-mute instruction, 43.5, 438 
Hematite iron ores and mines, 20; distribution of, 24. 
Henry, Alexander, copper mining by, 61. 
Henry, Patrick, 27.5, 

Hewitt, Abrara S., on iron production, 19. 
Hicks, Thomas, portrait painter. 32.5. 
Hi-hlanders, emigration of, to the Lnited States, zaP. 
HiFdretli, Richard, 284. 
Historians, minor, list of, 284. 
Hitz, John, first American maker of zinc, 99. 
Hoe, Richard M., inventor of the type-revolving press, 2S8. 
Hoirman, Charles F., works of. 280. 
Holbrook Josiah, labors ot; in founding lyceums, 4-33. 
Holmes. Oliver Wendell, 281. 
Homes for the Friendless. 449. 
Homoeopathy, introduction of. 260-61. 
Hoofstetter, attempts of, to manufacture zinc, 99. 
Hooker, Herman. 2S2. 

Hoop skirts, use and construction of, 258. , .v 

Hopkins, Gov. Edward, grammar schools founded under the 

will of, 340. 
Horn-book, the, 41.8. , ,o 

Horse-shoe nails and horse-shoes, machines for, 4.i. 
Hose-washing in California, 72. 
Hosmer, Harriet, sculptress, works of, 328. 
Hotel, the modern American, 261. 
Hotels of New York. 196. 
Houdon, statue of Washington by. 826. 
Houghton, Dr. Douglass, exploration of the Michigan copper 

mines by, 61. 
Houses, early style of building. 245 ; improvements in, 246-7 , 
in the Soutliern States, 247; Improvements in warming, 
243; lighling of, 249, 251. 
House's printing telegraph, 310 (illustration), 811. 
Howe, Mrs. Julia Ward, 286. 
Howe, Dr. Samuel O., 439, 443. 
Huancavelica quicksilver mines, Peru, 111. 
Hubbard, Wis., immense iron bed of, 30. 
Hudson river, iron furnaces on the, 28 ; early trade of the, 

186. 
Hughes's system of telegraphing, 311. 
Humphrey, lleman, D. D., letter of, upon the early state of 

common schools, 856. 
Hnntington, Daniel, painter. 825. 
Iluron coplier mine, production of, 58. 
Hydraulic gold-mining, 65. 
Hydraulic works of California, 73. 
Hydrocarbon gas. manufacture and character of, 152. 
Hydrocarbon or coal oils, l.'vl. (See Coal oils.) 
Hydropathy, introduction of, 261. 

Idiots, Institutions for the training of the, 442 ; modes of 

teaching. 444. 
Idria quicksilver mines. Carniola, 111. 
Illluois, lead mines of, 84 ; coal in, 124 ; banks In, 206. 



Illinois Central railroad, 1 18. 
" Illustrated News," the. 307. 

Immiffiation inlo the United States. 230; laws regulating, 
231- table of, 1820-1856, 231; sources of, 232 et seq. ; 
statistics of. 241. 
Imports and exi.orts of Canada, 179; of Cincinnati, 180; of 
New Orleans, 183; of Charleston, 183; of Baltimore, 1S8; 
orl'hiladel|ihia, 184; of Boston, lai ; of New York, 187. 
Indiana, binks and banking system of, 20,5. 
Indian corn. Western crops of, 174 ; importance of. 175. 
Industrial schools. 449. 
Ingham, Charles <.'., painter. 322. 

Inkballs. use of, in printing, 2S7. , ,. , . »v j 

Inking machine, hanil, 287, 290 (illustration); patent hand- 
press steam. 290 (illustration). 
Inman, Henry, painter. 823. 
Inoculation, vaccine, introduction of. 260. 
Insurance, principles of. 219; cr.mpanles, classes of, 220, 221. 

(Sec Accident, Fire, Life, Marine.) 
Intelligence, general, causes of, 380. 
Intercourse, social, importance of means of, 260. 
Interest, fallacious idea of. 226. 
Iowa, lead mines of S4; banks in. 206. 
Ireland emigration from. 235; effects of misgOTemmcnt and 

the" famine in, 235; reformatory measures in, 286. 
Iridium and osmium, use and sources of, 110. 
Iridosniium, 110. ♦.j^v- 

Irish emigrants, impositions upon, at Liverpool, 236; tricks 

of, 238 ; the passage of. 239. 
Irish emigration to the colonies^ 229. r 10,0 lain 

Iron early exportation ot pig, 18; production of, 1828-1850, 
20- principal ores of, 20; comparative cost of the pro- 
duction of, 23; distribution of the ores of. 24; kinds of; 
82; production and importations of, 46; domestic, amount 
aiid value of, 47 ; chromate of, 118. 
Iron manufacture, hi.Uorical sketch of, 18; advantages of the 
United States for, 19; materials employed in, 20; fuels 
useil ill 22; furnaces for, 23; processes of, 82 (see Cast 
Iron. Wrought iron. Sheet iron. Puddling, &c.); statistics 
of, 45 ; effect of the war upon, and prospects of, 47. 
Iron Manufacturers. Association of, 45. 
Iron mines, distribution of, 24 et seq. 
Iron mountain. Mo.. 31. 

Iron works, early, in the colonies, 17; table of, in IboS, 40. 
Irving. Washington, works of. 278. 

Isle Royale. copper mines of. 52, 58. . v , v 

Ivison. Phinney, Blakeman & Co., sales of school books by, 
268. 



Jackson, N. H., oside of tin nt, 120. 

James River coal mines, first working of. 18, 121. 

Japanese ambassadors, bill for the entertainment of the, 

197. 
Jarvis, John Wesley, painter. 320. 
Jay, John, extract from, upon education, 353. 
Jay, Vt, chrome mines in, 118. , „,, . 

Jefferson, Thomas, plan of coinage by, 218; w-.-itincs of, 275 , 
plan of a school law by, 342; extract from, upon educa- 
tion, 352. 
Jewelry used in gift-book sales, quality of, 266. 
Johnson. Eastman, painter, 325. . . , , 

Jones, Rich.ard, process of, for making white oxide of zinc 

from the ore, 104. 
" Journal of Commerce," New York, 803. 
" Journal of the I'.hode Island Institute of Instruction, 89S. 
Juvenile Asylums, 449, 450. 

Kansas, coal-beds of, 124. 

Keeseville, N. Y'., nail factories of, 2.5. 

Kenible. Mrs. Frances Anne, 2S6. 

Kennedy, John P., works of, 2T8. 

Kent, Chancellor, extract from, upon education, SSi. 

Kent ore bed. Conn., 24. .„..,., <• »v., 

Kentucky, iron mines and furnaces of, 29 ; thickness of th» 

coal-beds of, 133; banks in, 207. 
Kerosene Oil Works, Newtown, L. I., 154, 153. 
Keweenaw Point copper mines, 51, 62 ; production of, 57. 
Kidder's gas-regulator, 151. 
King. Chas. B.. painter. 320. 
King's College, New York, fonndation of, 347. 
Kirklanil, Mrs. Caroline M.. 285. 
Knife-handles, balanced, 251. 
K5nigshutte, Silesia, zinc works at, 101, 102. 
Kossuth hat, introduction of the, 258. 

Lakes, cities of the. 176 ; aggregate trade of the, 178. 

Lambdins, the. painters, 82.5. 

La Motte lead mines, Missouri, 85, 86. 

Lamps, varieties of, 251-2. 

Lancaster. Pa., zinc mine near, 97. 

Lancaster county, Pa., nickel mine In, 117. 



577 



Land, railroad grants of, 1T3; sales of, 1821-1S60. 1T4; war- 
liiuis and dun;itioiis of, 114 ; amount of, unsold, 176. 

Land olliees, opening of, 1G9. 170. 

Laud sales, government system of. 169 ; amount of. 17!>'>-1S20, 
171 ; increase of, from hpeculntion and public works, 172. 

Land speculation, evil etfects of. 171. 172. 

Land States, increase of population in, 175. 

Landscape painters, S'25. 

Lapis i-alaminaris, 9S. 

Lard oil, 154. 

Lawn-nce, Abbott. 400, 401. 

Lawrence Scientific School, 400. 

Law schools, 894 ; table of, 455. 

Lead, ores of, SI; localities of. S2-6; shipments of, from S. 
W.Virginia, 84; from the upper Mississippi, So; dimin- 
ished production of, 86; table of production and imports 
of, 1832-1S5S, ST; smeltin:;. methods of, 87; fumes of, 
methods of arresting. 90 ; manufactures of, 91 ; separa- 
tion of silver from, 116. 

Lead mining in the colonies, IS. 

Lead pipo, manufacture of. 91 ; use and danger of, 92. 

Leclaire, process of, for making zinc paint, 103; 

Lectures and lecturers, 433^. 

Legai-tender notes, national issue of. 211. 

Legare, Hutrh S.. career and writings of, 278, 

Lfg-of mutton sleeves, 258. 

Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company, 136, 

Lehigh Coal Mine Company, 121. 

Lehigh cnimty, Pa., zinc mines of, 97. 

Lehigh region, the, coal produced in, 1820-1860, 135. 

Lehigh river, slack-water navigation of, 186; railroad. 139. 

Lehii^h vallev, iron furnaces in the, 23 ; iron ores of, 26. 

Leslie, Mrs. Eliza, 2&5. 

Leslie's "■ Illustrated Newspaper," 807. 

Le Sueur, discovery of load mines by, 18, 84. 

Letter-writers of the llevolution, '275. 

Leutze. Emanuel, historical painter, 325. 

Liberty, Md., copper mines near, 49. 

Librai-ies in the United States, 423; principal, table of, 
429^52. 

Life insurance, statistics and principles of, 224 ; in different 
countries, 225; table of comparative rates of, 226; ten 
years' non-forfeitablo plan of, 227. 

Liglit, materials used fur, 249. 2.il-2. (See Gas, Coal oils.) 

Lignite, formation and beds of, 122. 

Limestone as a flux for iron ores, 20. 

Line eni^raving, process of, 333. 

Lippincott, Mrs. Sarah J., 2S6. 

Lippincott & Co.. publishers, transactions of^ 263, 

Liquors, former universal use of, 253. 

Litchfield, Conn., girls' school at, 405. 

Literature, American, 274. 

Lithography, 835. 

Liverpool, fleecing of Irish emigrants at, 236. 

Live-stock insurance companies, 227. 

Lloyd's, marine insurance, 223. 

Loadstone, the, 21. 

Locust Mountain coal-measure, section of, 182. 

Log houses, construction of. 247. 

Looking-glass plates, preparation of, 114. 

London, marine insurance at. 223. 

Longfellow, Henry W., works of. 2S0. 

Longstreefs "■ Georgia Scenes," extract from, 874. 

Lossing, Benson J., works of, 2S4. 

Louisa county, Vn., gold mines of, 64. 

Louisiana, purchase of, 170; banks in, 203. 

Louisville, origin and growth of, ISO. 

Lovell's Latin School, Boston, account of, 390. 

Lowell, .Tames Kussell. 2S1. 

Lowell Institute. Boston. 434. 

Luhricuting oils from coal, 161. 

Lucesco oil works, 157. 

Lumpkin county, Ga., gold mines of, 70. 

Luyck, Kev. Dr. ^gidius. 347. 

Lyceum movement, the, 403. 

Lyceums, 4^52 ; for mutual instruction, history of, 433. 

Lyon. Miss Marv, Mount Holyoke Female Seminary estab- 
lished by, 405. 

Mackintosh, Miss M. J., 235. 
McCormack gold mine. Georgia. 70. 
McDowell county, N. C, gold-mining in, 69. 
McLean, J. S.. first American pianoforte patentee, 260. 
Madison, James, works of, 275; extract from, upon education, 

353. 
Magdalen Asylums, 450. 
Magnetic iron ores, 21; localities of, 24. 
Magnetic Telegraph Company, 313. 
Maine, lead mines of, 82. 
Maine law, the. 260. 
Ualno Telegraph Company, 313, 

35* 



Malachite, green, 43. 

Maibone, Edward G., miniature painter, 820. 

Mallet's method of making galvanized iron, 40. 

Manassas Gap, Va.. copjter ores at, 49. 

Man-catchers of Liverpool, 236-7 ; tricks of, 233. 

Manijanese. use, sources, and treatment of, 119. 

Manhattan Gas Light Company, 145. 

Mann, Horace, 387.' 

Manual labor schools. 403. 

Mnrieopa Mining Company (silver), 116. 

Marine inMirance,223 ; t:ible of, in New York, 224. 

Mari|iosa county, Cal., quartz-mining in, 73. 

Marshall, John, works and character of, 276. 

Maryland, iron mines and furnaces of, 28; copper mines o^ 
49 ; eold in, 64 ; cobalt in. 117 ; chromium in, IIS ; coal- 
field of, 124, 185; banks in, 205; colonial legislation of, 
upon educixtion, 347. 

Maryland Agricultural College, 402. 

Massachusetts, early iron works in, 17; lead mines of, 82; 
manganese in, 119 ; coal in, 129 ; colonial issues of paper 
money in, 19S; colonial coinage of. 212; marine in- 
surance in, 224; life insurance in, 225: colonial legisla- 
tion of, upon education, 842; the constitution and laws 
of, upon education. 3S5. 

Massachusetts Ilospit.tl and Life Insurance Company, 224 

Massachusetts School for Imbecile and Feeble-mindea Youth, 
443. 

Mather, Cotton, works of, 274. 

Mauch Cliunk railroad and coal business, 136. 

Mauch ("hunk Summit mine, section of, 132. 

Mecca, Ohio, the petroleum of, 1G7. 

Mechanics, schools for, 403. 

Medical schools, 394 ; table of. 455. 

Melville, David, efforts of, to establish the use or gas, 145. 

Mentely, Messrs., bell foundry of, 63. 

Mercurial metlicines. preparation of, 115. 

Mercury, use of, in gold-mining, 74, 76; uses of. 110; ores of, 
111 ; mines and yield of. 111; mining of, in California, 
112; total production of, 112; metaliurgio treatment oi 
114; useful applications of, 114. 

Mezzotint engraving, S;J4. 

Michigan, iron mines and furnaces of, 29 ; copper mines of, 
61; coal-field of. 120; banks in, 206; Agricultural Col- 
lege of, 402; Univer.'^ity of. scientific course of, 402. 

Middletown, Cunn., argentiferous lead mine at, 18, 82. 

Mitrration, universality of, 22S. 

Milit^u-y Academy, the. 395. 

MiliUiry schools in Virginia, South Carolina, &c., SdG. 

Mills, Chirk, sculptor, 82S. 

Milsuii, Mr. Call isle tables constructed by, 234. 

Milwaukee, origin, growth, and trade of, 173. 

Mimbi'es copper mines, 116. 

Mine Hill, N. J., zinc mines at, 97, 

Mine la Motte lead mine, Stj; cobalt at, 117; nickel at, 117. 

lis. 

Mineral paints, 247. 

Minesota co])per mine, the, ancient and modern working of, 

54; production of, 5(5. 
Mining, the earliest American charter for, IS. 
Mining industry of the United States, history of, 17. 
Minnesota, banks in, 206. 
Mint, the United States, establishment o(^ 218 ; operations of, 

214 et seq. (See Coinage.) 
Mini* table of gold deposits at the, 7S~9. 
Mirwrs, silvering of, 114. 
Mississippi, banks and banking in, 207. 
Mississippi basin, settlement of the, 170. 
Mississippi valley, the, early style of house furniture tn, 25T. 
Missouri, iron mines of, 31; lead mines of, S5; cobalt and 

nickel in, 117, llS; hanks in, 208. 
Money, oriijin and nature of, 212. 
Monroe, N. V., iron beds of, 25. 
Mont^ina, iri'M and silver mines of, 71. 
Mrmtoni s riiK'e, Pa., iron mines of^ 27. 
Moor's Indian Charity School, 345. 
Moravian schools in Pennsylvania, 849, 404. 
Moresnet, Belgium, zinc mine at. 101. 
Morse, S. F. B., career of, as a painter, 822. 
Morse's telegraph appar.atus, 303, 309 (illustration). 
Morris, liohert, repi.rt of, ui)on coinage, 213. 
Moselem iron hrd, the, 26. 
Motley, John Lothrop. works of, 284. 
Mount, "William S., paintiuirs of, 323. 
Mtuint Pi>u'ah coal mini-p.iyU; railroad plane, description and 

illiisti-.itions of, 136. 137, 139. 
Muntz"s yellow metal, 61. 
Music books, sales of, 263. 

Nack, James, deaf-mute poet, 439. 

N.icoochee valiey gold mines, Georgia, 63, 70. 

Nails, manulacturo of, and American Improvements In, 41; 



578 



table of factories and production o^ 42 ; process of making, 
42; horee-shoe, 4:3. 

Napier press, the, description of, 287; improvements in, 288, 
297. 

National Academy of Design, establishment of the, 319, 323; 
origin and pm-rress of the, 335. 

National Bunk. See Bank of the United States. 

National banks, system of. 211. 

Naturalization laws, the, 230. 

Naval Acadeinv, the. 396. 

Nazareth, Pa., Moravian school at. 349. 

Nickel, uses and mines of, 117 ; ores of, 113. 

Neal, Joseph C, writings of, 281. 

Neal, Mrs. Alice B. (Haven), 235. 

Nebraska, banks in, 207. 

New Aluiaden quicksilver mine, California, 112: picture of, 
113. 

Newark, N. J., luannfactnre of zinc at. 104. 

Newberry. Dr. J. S., opinion of, upon the source of petro- 
leum", 1G4. 

New Brunswick, N. J., copper mine at, 49. 

New England, early iron works in, 17; iron mines and fur- 
naces of, 24; use of peat in, T22; decline of the whaling 
business of, 154; banks in, 203; fire insurance in, 222; 
origin and progress of the book trade in, 268; colonial 
school system of, 33S. 

New England Primer, specimen of the, 414. 

Newfane, Vt., gold found at, 64. 

Newfoundland, ancient Norse colony in, 228. 

New Hampshire, iron mines of, 24; copper in, 49; leadin,82; 
tin mine in, 120; colonial legislation of, upon education, 
345; State law for education in, 8S6. 

New Haven, early town action for schools in, 338. 

New Jersey, early copper mining in, 18; iron mines and fur- 
naces of, 25; copper mines of, 49; zinc mines of, 97; 
banks in, 205; early schools in, 348. 

New Jersey Franklinite ('ompany, 106. 

New Jersey Zinc Company, 104. 

New Orleans, gold deposits at the branch mint of, 78; acqui- 
Bition and early commerce of, 170; origin, growth, and 
commerce of, 181 ; trade and valuation of, lft04-1859, 182; 
course of trade and exchange at, 182; competition of 
other places with, 183. 

Newsam, Albert, deaf-mute sculptor, 439. 

Newspapers, establishment of, in England, 801 ; in the United 
States, 302; in New York, statistics of, 8iU; advertising 
in, 304; daily, former and present business management 
of, 305; other classes of, 807; aggregate number and cir- 
culation of, 307. 

New York, iron mines and furnaces of, 24; copper in. 49; lead 
mines of, 82; petroleum in, 167; the canals of, 171; tho 
railroads of, 172; issues of paper money by, 199 ; banks 
and banking systems of, 204; fire insurance in, 221 ; ma- 
rine insurance in, 223; life insurance in, 224; number of 
foreigners in, 242 ; Dutch colonial school system in, 33S ; 
colonial legislation of, upon education, 346; State school 
law of, in 1795, 3S6; school superintendent appointed in, 
386-7; State Library of, 427. 

New York Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, 436. 

Nl'W Yuik Central railroad, 172. 

New York Children's Aid Society, 449. 

New York city, shot towers in, 94 ; introduction of gas into, 
145; extentof gas pipes in, 146; early trade of, 1^ trade 
and finance centred at, 186; course of trade at, IW; pop- 
ulation, commerce, and valuation of, 1684-1860, 1S7; 
speculation at, 187; mode of business in, 188; etfects of 
discovL-ries an<l public improvements upon, 188; move- 
ment of business and population in, 190; railroads and 
telegra[)hs in, 190; subdivisions and methotte of business 
in, 191; exports and imports of, 187, 192; trade in gold 
at, 193 ; exchange, banking, and stock operations at, 194 ; 
hotels in, 196; the retail trade of. 197; assay office at, 
215: insurance in, 222-4; newspapers of, 3(t2; eireulation 
of the, 803; Sunday press of, 807; Mechanics' School of, 
403 ; or[ihan asylums in, 445. 

»'New York Express," the, 805. 

New York Gas Light Company, 145. 

*^New York Heniid." the, 803. 

New York Home for the Friendless, 449, 450, 

*' New York Hhistrated News," the, 807. 

''New York Journal," the, 307. 

New York Juvenile Asylum. 448. 

*'New York Ledger." the, 807. 

New York Society Library, foundation of, 347, 

New York Life ajid Trust Company, 224. 

New York Mercantile Library, 427. 

New York Society Library. 423. 

New York State Asylum for Idiots, 448; view of, 444. 

"New York Times." the. 804. 

• New York Tribune." the, 304 

Normal schools, 397, 399. 



Norsemen, discovery of America by, 22S. 

North Carolina, iron mines and furnaces of, 23 ; copper mines 

of, 50; gold mines of, 63, 69; lead in. 84; cobalt in, 117, 

nickel in, 118; coal-beds of, 129; banks in, 208; colonial 

legislation of, upon education, 349. 
Northeast, N. Y., lead mine at, 82. 
Norton, Andrews. 282. 

Norwich Free Academy, Conn., view of^ 411. 
"Notes on Virginia," Jefferson's, 276. 
Nott, Elipbalet, D. D., letter of, upon school- teaching, 362; 

the anthracite stove of, 248. 
Nova Scotia, coal-field of, 129. 

Ohio, iron mines and furnaces of, 29 ; petroleum in. 162, 167; 

government land sales in, 169, 170; banks and banking 

system of, 205. 
Ohio Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, 436. 
Ohio State School for Idiots, 443. 
Oil, whale, diminished production of. 154; lubricating, from 

coal, 160. (See Coal oil. Petroleum.) 
Oil Creek, Pennsylvania, petroleum on, 162. 
Old field school in Virginia, account of an, 377, 
Olefiant gas, composition of, 147. 
Olmsted, Prof. Denison. 399. 
Olmsted's anthracite stove, 24S, 
Oneida Lake, iron mines near, 25. 
Ontona:ion copper mines. 52, 54; production of, 57. 
Orators, celebrated American, 275. 
Oregon, platinum in, 107; iridium in, 110. 
Oreide, discovery of, 251. 

Orphans, institutions for the education and training of, 445. 
Orr, Hugh, manufacture of ciinnon by, 19. 
Orr, Isaac, inventor of the air-tight wood stove, 243. 
Osgooii, Mrs. Frances, 286. 
Osmium, 110. 

Oswego, oritrin, growth, and trade of, 176. 
Ovens, construction of, in <dd-f:ishioned houses, 246. 
Ovid, N. Y., agricultural college at. 402. 
Oxide of cobalt, 117; of manganese, 119; of zinc, see Zino 

paint. 
Osy-hydrogen blowpipe, fusion of platinum by the, 109. 
Owen, D. D., survey of the lead region by, 84. 
Owyhee gold and silver mines, Idaho, 71. 

Packer C-ollegiate Institute, the, 405, 409-10 (illustrationsX 

Page, William, painter, 323. 

Paine, Thomas, revolutionary writings o^ 275. 

Painting, academies and schools of, 335. 

Painting and painters in the United States, 316. 

Paints, new kinds of, 247. (See White lead, Zinc paint.) 

Paletot, introduction of the, 258. 

Palmer, sculptor, works of. 828. 

Pantaloon, definition of, 257. 

Paper, printing, sizes of. 272. 

Paper money, origin, kinds, and use of, 193; comparative de- 
preciation of, in the colonies, 213. 

Paratfine, preparation and use of, 159. 

Parley, Peter, school recollections of, 863, 

Parton, Mrs. 8. P. W. (Fanny Fern), 285. 

Partridge. Captain Alden, military schools or, 89(5. 

Passaic Mining and Manufacturing Companv, 104.106. 

Passengers, arrivals of foreign, 18:J0-1859, 240 ; of native, from 
abroad, 244. 

Patents, number of, issued. 259. 

Pattinson's method of treating argentiferous lead, 90. 

Paulding, James K., works of. 278. 

Pawnbrokers, the business of, 197. 

Peabody, George, 427. 434. 

Peabody Institute, Baltimore, 427. 

Peale, Charles Wilsr)n. 820; art academy foimded by, 335, 

Peale. Rembrandt, career and pamtings of, S20. 

Peat, formation and beds of, 122, 

Peelo, J. T., painter, 325. 

Peet, Harvey P., 436. 

Peet, Mrs. Mary Toles. deaf-mute poetess, 439. 

Pennsylvania, iron mines and works of, 26; copper mines of, 
49; lead mines of, 83 ; zinc mines of. 97; chromium in, 
118; manganesein,119 ; first use of thccoal of. 120; chart 
of the anthracite region of. 126-7; coal strata of, 129; 
thickness of the coal-beds of, 135; production of coal in, 
1820-1860, 134-5; public improvements of, for coal tnins- 
portiition, 135; history and pr<>diicti<tn of petroleum in, 
162-3; banks in, 205; early educational laws and institu- 
tions of, 349. 

Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. 335. 

Pennsylvania and Lehigh Zinc Com[iany, 104. 

Pennsylvania Asylum for the Blind, view of, 441. 

Pennsylvania canal, opening of, 171. 

Penn-^ylvania Institution for the Denf and Dumb, 436, 

'•Pennsylvania Packet," the, first American daily newspaper, 
301. 



INDEX 



579 



Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company. 163. 

Pennsylvania Society for the promotion of public schools, 393. 

Pennsylviiuia Training Sehuol for Idiots, 443. 

PenokiL^ range, "Wis., iroo mines of. 30. 

Perkinmen copper mine, Pennsylvania, 49. 

Perkins, Jacob, invention of, in'stcel engraving, 833. 

Perry's Ica<l mine, Missouri. S6. 

Peru, quicksilver mines of, 111. 

Petroleum, foreign sources of, 161 ; Burmese, products of the 
distillation of. 161 ; in the United States, localities and 
history of. 162. 167; the question of the source of, 164; 
boring wells for, 164-5; tlow of, 1G6; qualities of, 167; 
work." for refining, 168 (table). 

Pewabic copjier mine, the. 54 ; production of, 58. 

Pewter, composition of, 120. 

Phelps. Mrs. Almira H., 2S5. 

Phelps's electro-magnetic governor, 312. 

Philadelphia, resources, origin, and business of,lS4 ; manage- 
ment of a model store at, 1S4; account of early school- 
tenching in, 371 ; orphan asylums in, 445, 446. 

"Philadelphia Gazette," Franklin's, 305. 

*' Philadelphia Ledger," the, 304. 

Philadelphia Library Companv, 423. 427. 

Phillips, Cul. David M.. de.af-mute. 439. 

Phillips Academy, account of, by Josiah Quincy, 8S8, 

Pha?nixville lead mines, Pennsylvani;i. SI. 

Photography, introduction and use of, 261. 

Photometer, the, 152. 

Phrenology, introduction of the study of. 260. 

Pianofortes, American manufacture of, 260. 

Pictou coal mines. Nova Scotia, 129. 

Pierraont, N. H., iron ore of^ 24. 

Pi^golt, A. Snowden, on copper-smelting, 59. 

Pig iron, manufacture of, 32; classificiition of, 86; table of 
production of, -iG. 

Pilot Knob, Mo., iron at. 81; works at, 82. 

Pine-tree shilling, the, 212. 

Pins, manufacture of, 62. 

Pittsburg, copper-smelting at, 59, 60; coal mires at, 181 ; cost 
of mining at, 141 ; origin, growth, and business of, 180. 

Pittsburg and Boston copper mine, production of, 58. 

Planing machine, invention of the. 247. 

Platinum, localities, character, and working of, 107; appara- 
tus for working, illustration and description ol^ lOB, 109; 
American consumption of, 110. 

Plumbago, geologrical position of. 122. 

Plymouth colony, appropriation for schools in, 343-4. 

Poe. Edgar A., 281. 

Politics, educational influence of, 3S2. 

Polk county, Tenn.. copper mines of. 50. 

Polk County Mining Company, 50, 51. 

Polytechnic schools. 403. 

Pony expresses in California, 188. 

"Puor Kichard," 275. 

Population, progress of, in the 'Western States, 171,174; de- 
crease of. in Ireland, 235. 

Porcupine mountains, copper mines of, 52. 

Portage lake copper mines, 52,53-4; smelting works, and 
production of, 57. 

P<)rt Henry, N, T., iron mines of, 25. 

Portland canal, the, around the falls of the Ohio, ISO. 

Portsmouth, R. L, coal mine at, 129. 

Post, Edwin, first successful use of anthracite by, 25. 

Postage, cheap, establishment of. 261. 

Potato crop, the, dependence of Ireland upon, 285. 

Pot ore, iron, 2S-9 (note). 

Powers, Hiram, sculptor, career and works ol^ 827. 

Preaching, educational effects of, 3S1. 

Prescott, William H., works of, 2S4. 

Press, the, of Franklin (Ramage press), mode of working, 2S6; 
picture of, 289. (8ee Printing press.) 

Preventive and reformatory institutions, 446. 

Printing, introduction of, in England, 263; processes of, 299; 
for the blind, 441. 

Printing ink, qualities and composition of, 2S6. 

Printing-press, the, 286; improvements in, 287; illustrati(kis 
of, 2S9-97. 

Professional schools. 893; tables of. 454, 455. 

Providencia quicksilver mine, California, 112. 

Prussia, attempts of, to check emigration, 234. 

Publishers, book, number and classes of, 265, (See Book 
trade.) 

Puddling, the process of, 37. 

Putnam county, N. Y.. iron mines oC, 25. 

Pyrites, freeing of gold from, 76. 

Pyritous copper ore. 48. 

Pyrolnsite, ore of manganese, 119, 

Pyromorphite lead ore, 81. 

Quartz mining. 73. 

Queen's College, New ■I'lrsey, foundation of, 348. 



Quicksilver. See Mercury, 

Quincy, Josiah, account of Phillips Academy by, 88S. 

Railroad iron, table of production of, 40, imports of, 178. 

Railroads for coal transportation, 139, 140 (table); American, 
historical sketch of, 172; extent and cost of, 173; stimu- 
lating effects of, 173-4; Canadian, 179; street, in New 
York, 190. 

Railroad ticket machine, illustration and operation of, 296. 

Rainanghong, Burmah, [letroleum at, 161. 

Randall's Island Nursery, 445. 

Readers, large proportion of, in the United States, 262; In- 
crease of, 2G9. 

Reading railroad, construction and operation of the, 135. 

Reciprocity treaty, trade under the, 179. 

Redwood Library, the, 423. 

Reed's gold mine. North Carolina. 63. 

Reformatory institutions, management of, 447. 

Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, 400. 

Renton's plan for making wTought iron, 87. 

Retorts in gas works, 149 ; in coal-oil works, 157. 

Reverberatory fui'naces. 38; for lead-melting, 89. 

Revere, John W., invention of galvanized iron by, 40. 

Revere Copper Company, the, 58. 

Revolution, orators and writers of the, 275; influence of the, 
upon education, 351. 

Reynolds, L. G., inventor of horse-shoe nail machine, 48. 

Rhine, valley of the. emigration from, to the United States, 
232; destitution in, 234. 

Rhode Island, coal-field of. 129; early town action for schools 
in, 340 ; colonial legislation of, upon education, 344. 

Roberts, Dr. E. A. L., apparatus and process of, for manufac- 
turing platinum plate, 108, 109. 

Rocker, gold-washing, picture and description of, 67. 

Rockera, use of, in gold-mining, 74. 

Rocky Mountains, gold mines of the, 70. 

Rogers, Prof. H. I>., estimate of the extent of American coal- 
fields by, 133; of the amount of coal in Europe and 
America, 134. 

Rolling machine, the, for books, 271 (illustration), 278. 

Rtdling mills in the United States, table of, 40. 

Roofing, use of zinc for, 103. 

Roosevelt & Sons, manufacture of mirrors by, 114. 

Rosin oil, manufacture of cas from, 152. 

Rossie lead mines. New York, 83. 

Rossiter, Thomas P., paintings of, 325. 

Rothermel, P. F., historical painter, 825. 

Ruirgles job press, the, 287. 

Rush, Benjamin, extract from, upon education, 353; on ardent 
spirits, 260. 

Russ, Dr. John D.. 43. 

Russia, platinum found in, 107. 

Russian-American telegraph, the, 815. 

Russian sheet iron, 40. 

Rust, Samuel, press invented by, 287. 

Rutgers College, New Jersey, origin of, 348. 

Sack coat, introduction of the, 258. , 

Safety Fund banks, 204. 

Sailor, ore of cobalt, 117. 

St. John's C^olleg-e, Annapolis, origin of, 349. 

St. Lawrence county, N. Y., iron mines of, 25; lead mines 
ot, 83. 

St Lawrence river, navigation of the, 179. 

St. Louis, origin, growth, and trade of, 181. 

Salisbury, Conn., iron mines of, 20, 24. 

San Francisco, gold deposits at the branch mint of, 78; pold- 
dealing at, 193; branch mint at, 215. 

S.ans-serif alphabet, the, for the blind, 440. 

Santa Barbara quicksilver mine, Pern. 111. 

Santa Clara Mining Company (quicksilver), 112. 

Santa F6, New Mexico, iron at, 32. 

Santa Rita del Cobre mines (copper), 116. 

Sargent, Wilson &. Hinkle, sales of school bf«ks by, 268. 

Saucon zinc mines, Pennsylvania, 97 ; analyses of ores from, 
98. 

Sawing machine, the, for books, 272. 

Saxe, J. G., 281. 

School apparatus, past and present, illustrated, 422. 

School-books, early manufacture of. 263; mode of introducing, 
266 ; great sales of, 268; improvements in, illustrated by 
specimens, 418-21. 

School holidav in Georgia, 373. 

School-houses', early, character of, 357 ; past and present, illus- 
trated, 406-7. 

Schoolcraft, Henry R., 283. 

Schools, town action in behalf of, in the New England colo- 
nies, 339 ; C(»lonial legislation for, 341 ; effect of the Rev- 
olution upon, 351 ; laws of Congress upon, 354; true nso 
of, 382-3; secondary or higher, leeislativo neglect of,3S8; 
professional, scientific, and special, 892. 



580 



INDEX 



Schools of (leslErn for women, 336. 

Schuylor copper mine, New Jersey, IS, 49. 

Schuylkill, Iron uiiuea ami furnaces on the. 2fi, 27. 

Schuylkill region, coal produced in the, 1820-1&60, lai. 

Scientiftc scliools, 400. 

Scotch eniiirratiun to the colonies, 229. 

Scotch hearth, tlie, description and iUustration of, S3. 

Sculpture anil sculptors in the United States, 325. 

Sedjrwick, Miss Catharine M., works of, 2S5. 

Seguin, Dr. Kdward, labors of, for the instruction of idiots, 

443, 444. 
Selli^ue, manufacture of coal oil by, l-'G. 
Seneca Indians, use of petroleum hy, 102. 
Seneca oil, 102. 

Sewini; machines, introduction and benefits of, 201. 
Shaking' tal>U'S, in gold mining, 75. 
Sharp Mountain, section of the coal-measure of, 132. 
Shawangunk Mount,iin, lead mines of, 83. 
Shaw, Joshua, landscape painter, 322. 
Shoar-steel, manufacture of, 44. 
Sheathing, use of copper for, 61. 

Sheet iron, manufacture and uses of, 40; production of, 41. 
Sheet leail, manufacture of, 91. 
Shelhurne, N. H., lead mine at, S2. 
Shepherd mountain. Mo., iron at, 32. 
Shingles, use of, 246. 
Shoes, fashions of, 253, 254, 257. 
Shot, manufacture of, 92-3; towers for, 94. 
Siberia, platinum in, 107. 

Sicard, Abb6, 435; method of, for deaf-mute instruction, 433, 
Siilel.oanl, useofthe, 250. 
Sii.-u'''nite, nickel ore, 118. 
Sierra Xevaiia, the, gold mines of, 71, 72. 
Sigourney, Mrs. Lydia H., 265. 

Silesia, I'pper, zinc works of, 101 ; their production, 102. 
Silver, in tlie Lake Superior copper mines, 53 ; in Idah<i, 71 ; 

in lead ores, SI; methods of separating from lead, 90; 

American mines of, 115; ores of, and their treatment, 

116; coin ago of, 214; circulation of foreign, 215; pieces 

of, 216. 
Silvering of mirrors, 114-15. 
Silver-ware and forks, 251. 
Sini^bmv, Conn., copper mine at, IS, 43. 
Siinms, William G.. works of, 2S0. 
Skirts, fAshions of, 251. 25S. 
Sl.-eves, fashions of, 25S. 
SIiiicL-washing for gold, 72. 
Suiatt, preparation and use of, 117. 
Smi-lting. See Copper, Iron, Lead, Ac 
Smith, David, shot-making process of, 93. 
Smith, Mrs. E. Oakes, 2S5.'" 
Smith, Peter, 2S7. 
Smithsonian Institute, library of tlie, 4^7; lectures, &e., of 

(the, 434. 
Sniithscuute, zinc ore, 9G. 

S;tu hurt, John, portrait painter, 316; Kathaniel, 817. 
Suowhill, Md., bog iron of, 22. 
Social and domestic life, 245. 
Social distinctions, former, 254. 
Society, treneral progress of, 259. 
Sd'Ia aud its carbonates, use of, in making steel, 44. 
Soliier, soft, composition of, 120. 
Scnirrville, N. J., copper mine near, 49. 
Soiii-ra fouipany's silver mine, Arizona, 115. 
S('titli;un|.fnn, Mass., lead mine at, S2. 
South Can. lina, iron mines of, 28; gold mines of, C3, 64, G9 ; 

manL.'anose in, 119 ; banks in, 203; colonial legislation of, 

upon education, 350. 
Southern States, the, iron mines and furnaces of, 2S; domcs- 

llG architecture of, 247. 
South JoL,'u'ins cliffs, coal-measures at, 129. 
Southworth, Mrs. K. D. E. N., 2S5. 
Spain, quicksilver mines of. 111. 
Spanish colonization in America, 229. 
Sparks, Jared, works of, 233. 
Specie, amount of, 217. 
Specie circular, the, 202. 

Sjiecular iron ore and mines, 21 ; localities of, 24. 
Si»eculum metal, composition of, 63. 
Spelter. See Zinc. 

Spikes, wrought-iron, machines for, 43. 
Spurzhcim, plirenology introduced by, 260, 
Squibb, Dr. E. It., preparation of blue mass by, 115. 
Stamping mills for quartz-mining, 74. 

S tamps l< >r copper mini nc, 53 ; for gold -crushing, picture of, 68. 
Statesmen, American, 276. 
State Teachers'' Associations, 393. 
States, new, etfcct of land Bpeculatlon upon the increase of, 

171. 
Steam, use of, in coal-oil making, 158; house-warming by, 
243 ; social importance of, 260. 



j^tcamers, ocean, introduction of, 1S3. 

Steduian, E. C. 2sl. 

Steel, qualities and manufacture of, 43; American methods of 

making, 44. 
Steel engraving and engravers, 833. 
Stephens. Mrs. Ann S.. 285. 
Stereotyping, process of, 300. 
Stewart & Co., New York, the business of, 190. 
Stippling, process of, 334. 
Stirling Hill, N. J., zinc mine at, 97. 
Stirling's gas-regulator, 151. 
Stocks, origin of the trade in, 194; method and amount o^ 

195, 196. 
Stores in New York, 190. 
Story, Joseph, works of, 276. 
Stoves, m.anufacture of, at Albany, 36; use and kinds of, 243; 

for cooking, 2513. 
Stowe, ilrs. Harriet Eeecher, works of, 285. 
Street, Alfred B., 281. 
Street railroads in New York. 100. 
Stuart, Gilbert, prirtrait painter, 318. 
Subscription books, publication and sale of, 267. 
Suffolk Bank system. 203. 
Sully, Thr)mas, career and paintings of, 321, 
Summit coal mine, open quarry, picture of, 133; account oi^ 

1413. 
Sunday press, the, of New York. 307. 
Superior, Lake, iron mines of, 29; copper mines of, history, 

extent, working, aud production ol the, 51-58; shipmenta 

of iron from, 57. 
Susquehanna, iron mines on the, 26. 
Sutter's mill, discovery of gold at, 71, 
Swansea, copper-smelting at, 53; zinc works at, 96. 
Sydney coal-mines, Cape Breton, 129. 
Sykesville, Md., iron aud copper mine at, 23,49. 

Table furniture, varieties of, 251. 

Tables, o!<l and new styles of, 250. 

Tait. Arthur F., painter, 325. 

Tar Lake, Trinidad, 161. 

Tarentum, Pa., petroleum wells at, 162. 

Taylor, Bavard, 2S1. 

Taylor, Orville J., 898. 

Teachers, training of, 897; associations of, 897; conventions 

of, 393. 
Teachers' institutes, 899. 
Teaching, works on, 397. 

Telegraph, the, introduction and extension of, 133; use of. by 
newspapers, 803; principles of, and apparatus for, 308 et 
seq. ; lines of, 313 ; the Atlantic, history of, 314. 
Telegraphing, charges for, 314. 
Temperance reform, the, 260. 
Tennessee, iron mines and furnaces of, 28; copper mines of, 

50; gold mines of, 70; zinc in. 97; banks in, 207. 
Territories, the, surveys and sales of land in, 169. 
Theologians, colonial, 274. 
Theological schools, 893 ; table of, 454. 
Thevenet, Dr., account of iridium gathering by, 110. 
Thomas Iron Company, description of the furnaces of, 84. 
Thompson, Laimt, sculptor, 828. 
Ticknor, Elisha, 899. 
Tidioute Island Oil Company, 163. 
Tight-lacing, 258. 
Tin, alloys of, with copper, 63; sources and uses of, 119-20; 

alloys with, 120; sheet, preparation of, 120. 
Titusville, Pennsylvania, petroleum at, 162; operations at, 

163. 
Tomatoes, introduction of, 252. 

Torrey, Prof. John, analysis of zinc ores by, 93. 

ToUd abstinence si>cieties, origin of, 260. 

Trade, progress of, between the East and "West, 170 ; con- 
struction of lines of communication for, 171 ; course oi^ 
175; of the lakes, 178. 

Trade sales of books. 265. 

Training, mental and corporeal, 334. 

Travel, importance of facilities for, 260. 

Travelers' Insurance Company of Hartford, 227. 

Trexler, B., anthracite stoves made by. 248. 

Trimming nuichine, book and pai)er, 270 (illustration), 272. 

Trinidad, petroleum and as|>haltum in, 161. 

Trinity School, New York, origin of the, 847, 

Trouncing in school, how performed, 390. 

Trowsers, introduction of, by the Duke of "Wellington, 257. 

Troy, iron foundries of, 86. 

Trumbull, Colonel John, career and paintings of, 319. 

Tuomey, M.. on iron ore in South ('arolina, 28. 

Tuscarora, Pa., cidliery slope and breaker at, picture of, oppo- 
site 139; account of, l42, 144. 

Type-founding, process of, 293; machine for. 293. 

Type-revolvini: press, the, construction and operation ot, 
233 ; illustrations of, 29^-3. 



INDEX 



581 



Types, sizes of. 29S; prnportions of. in fonts, 299; cases fur, 

and setting of, 2S9 ; copper-facing of, 301. 
Type-setting luachines, 299. 

T'lster lead mine, copper from the, 49. 

rister count}', is'. Y., lead mines of, S'2. 

Union Consolidated Mining Company. 50, 51. 

United States, tiie,odvantai:es of, fur iron manufacture. 19; 
coal-fields of, 124; table of gasworks in, 14"; table uf 
coal-oil works in, ir>l; total imports of, 192; ininiiLrra- 
tion into, 230; comparative number of readers in, 202. 

Tnited States Bank. See Bank. 

I'nitfd States Military Academy, 460, 

Uiiitrd States Zinc Ci)niiiaiiy. ll)(j. 

Universal Life Insurance Company. 227. 

University of Pennsylvania, origin of, 349. 

U^her, Ilezekiah and John, early booksellers of Costnn, 203. 

Tulle's lead mine, Missouri, 86. 

Vunderlyn, John, career and paintings of, 820. 

Van Dyke, Dr. U. M., guld-mming of, in Georgia, 70, 

Vassar Female College. 4itr). 

Venango county, I'a., petrideura in, 1G2. 

Ventilation of bnildinj^s, 24S-9. 

Vermont, iron mint's and furnaces of, 24; copper mines of, 
49; gold mines of, 04; chrDminiu in, US; manganese in, 
119 ; constitutioniil provision of, for education, 3S6. 

V(.'rp!anck, Gulian C. 2b3. 

Vietiniii, Queen, zinc statue of, 103. 

Aii-ille Montague zinc mines and works. 100. 

Vinci-nt de Paul, instructiun of idiots by, 4-13. 

Virginia, early mining industry in. 17 ; irun ores and furnaces 
of, 28; copper mines of, 49 ; shipments of ores from, 5U ; 
gold mines of, 03, 04; lead mines of, 8=3: bituminous coal- 
lield of, 129; petroleum in, 167; banks in, 20S; early 
schools in, 337; colonial legislation of, upon schools, ;^1 ; 
' first general school law in, 342 ; account of an old field 
schod in, 377. 

Virginia Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, 436. 

Vitreous copper ore, 4S. 

"Waldo & Jewett, portrait painters, 822. 

AA'alker, Parker & Co.^s product of silver from lead, 91. 

"U'ar b«>oks. trreat sales of, 267. 

"V\'are, William, works of. 2S2. 

"Warner. Miss Emily, works of, 2?5. 

Warwick or Jont-s* iron mine, the, 26. 

W^ishiui^ton, iloudon's statue of, 320; extract from, upon ed- 
ucation, 352. 

Washington Cullege, Maryland, origin of, 34S. 

Washington countv. Mo,, iron-smelting in, 31. 

Wa^hinL'ton gold mine, North <'arolina, 69, 84,115. 

Washin-ton itr^.'^.s. the, 2s7; jtieture of. 2S9. 

Washiuglon's FaiL-urll Address, manuscript of, 301. 

Washoe silver mines, 115, 116. 

Washstinds, movable and fixed. 251. 

Waterbury, Conn., brass manufacture at, 62. 

Wat(-r-cure, introduction of the, 201. 

Water gas, manufactur.i and introduction of, 152. 

Wuli-rhouse, Dr., vaccine inoculation introduced by, 2G0. 

Water-works in cities, introduction of, 249. 

Watkinson, David, library founded by, 427. 

"Watson, John, portrait painter. 316. 

Waverlcy n<jvels, effect of the. upon the book trade, 264. 

Waviand, Francis, works of, 2S2. 

Weitlth, what constitutes, 200. 

AVebster, Daniel, Speeches of, 277; extract from, upon educa- 
tion in New England, 853. 

Webster. Noah, account of schools and educatitm in New 
England by, 845; observations of, upon a liberal policy 
of education, 352 ; upon the early state of common schools 
(letter), 355; upon errors in education. 355-6. 

"Webster's Elementary Spelling-book aud Dictionary, publi- 



cation and. influence of. 203, 264; aggregate sale of, 267; 
Spelling Hook, specimens of, 4=16-19. 

Weir, Kohert W., painter. 823. 

Welby, Mrs. Amelia B., 286. 

Welland canal, construction of the, 179; and railway, effect 
of. upon the trade of Iluffalo, Oswego, and Cleveland. 176. 

Wellington, Duke of, trowsers, frock-coats, and boots intro- 
duced by, 257- S, 

Wells, petroleimi, the bonng of, 164-5; pipes for, 166. 

Wells, John, printing-press inventor, 287. 

West, the. coal-fields of, 124, 133; surveys and sales of land 
in, 169; early trade and settlement of, 170; effects of 
speculation in, 172; can.als in, 172; railroads in. 173; 
railroads, population, and corn crop of, 1850 and 1857, 174 
(table); importance of corn to, 175; use of agriculturai 
machinery in, 175. 

West, Benjamin, career of, 317; chief pictures of, 81S. 

West, William E., painter. 820. 

West Point, Military Academy at, 395. 

Whalinu' business, di-ciine of the, 154. 

Wttherill, Sanuu.-!, manufacture of zinc by, 99, 104. 

White, Edwin, painter, 325. 

Whitefiehi, George, Oi"i)han Ilouse in Georgia founded by, 
350, 445. 

Wharton. .Tuse[ih, manufacture of zinc by, 99. 

Wlu^atU-y lead mine, Pennsylvania, S3. 

Wheaton, Ilenrv, work of. on international law. 276. 

Wheelock. Dr., "first jiresident of Dartmouth College, 845. 

White lead, manufacture and uses of, 94 ;adulteration of, 95; 
works, table of, 96. 

Whittier, John Greenleaf, career and works of, 281. 

Wisrs, former use of. 257. 

Wiibraham, Mass., Methodist Conference Seminary at, 405. 

Wilbur, Dr. H. B., 443. 

Wilkcsharre, open coal-mines at, picture, opposite 137; ac- 
count of, 144. 

Willard, Mrs. Eumia,works of, 2S4 ; the female seminary of, 405. 

William and Mary t'ollege, foundation of, 342. 

Williams, Mr., painter, 817. 

Willis, N. P., career and works of, 2S0. 

Willson's "School and I-'amily Readers," specimens of, 420-21. 

Windham County Teachers' Convention, S9S. 

Windows, weights and catches for, 247. 

Winthrop, Governor, mining grant to, 17. 

Winthrop, John, mineral specimens collected by, IS. 

Wire, iron, manufacture and uses of, 41; brass, 62. 

Wirt, William, works of, 270. 

Wisconsin, iron mines and furnaces of, 30; lead mines of, 84; 
banks in, 206. ' 

Wood, manufacture of pas from, 152 ; for engraving, 332. 

Wood's chrome mine, 118. 

Woodworth, William, planing machine introduced by, 247. 

Worcester, Mass., wire made at, 41. 

Writers, American, 274; female, list of, 2S5. 

Wrought iron, mauufactur'e of, 36; plans for the direct pi>o- 
duction of, 37. ■ 

Wyoming region, the coal produced in, 1829-1800, 134. 

Wythe lead mine, Virginia, S3. 

Tale College, foundation of, 344; Scientific School of, 400. 

Yankee curiosity, useful results of, 262. 

"Yankee Notions," the, 307. 

Yellow metal, Muntz's, 61. 

Y'oung, James, manufacture of coal oil by, 154. 

Zaffre, ore of cobalt, 117. 

Zinc, use of, in coating iron, 40; in br.aes-making, 62; ores of, 
96; mines of, 97; metallurgical treatment of, 99; impu- 
rities of, 99-100 ; Eurojiean manufacture of, 101 ; total 
production and consumption of, 102 ; uses of^ 108; manu- 
facture of white oxide of. 108. 

Zinc paint, manufacture of. 103; American process of mak- 
ing, 104-5 ; cost of, 100 ; importance of, 106. 



EXTRACTS FROM COMMENDATIONS. 



The following Testimonials must convince 
the most sceptical person of the merits of 
this work. We do not remember of ever 
seeing a list of names attached to any pub- 
lication in this country whose opinions are 
entitletl to more confidence. They were 
not given hastily, without examination, as 
it required about one year to obtain them. 

PUBLISHERS. 

No. 1. 

From A. Jackson, D. D., President Hobart College, OeneTa. 
I have examined, as far as time would allow, 
your new work. I think it a very convenient book 
of reference, and a valualile addition to our statis- 
tical knowledge. I have .already found it a very 
useful work to consult, and I gladly add it to our 
College Library, where it well desenes a place. 



Kg. 2. 



From C. Nott, B. D., President of the Indiana State Uni- 
versity, Bloomingtou, Ind. 

I htive examined your recently published work 
and from the examination I have been able to give 
it, I believe that it merits richly the highest com- 
mendation. The great variety and importance of 
the subjects, the felicitous style in whicb they are 
clothed, and tbcir numerou.s and beautiful illustra- 
tions, render this work peculiarly attractive. They 
embrace subjects of great and universal utility, and 
deeply interesting to all classes of community. 
Every profession and calling in life is here exhib- 
ited, with the latest improvements in every dcpart- 
mect of industry and art. 



No. 3. 



From the President of the Wesleyan University, Middletown, 
Conn. 

I have exatnined with much pleasure and profit 
your new work. It contains a great amount and 
variety of information, |U'intcd in an attractive 
style on subjects of the highest importance. It is 
eminently a practical work, and brings within the 
reach of all, stores of knowledge heretofore inac- 
cessible to most readers. The novelty of the title, 
the great truths illustrated and established, give it 
increased attractiveness and usefulness. 



No. 4. 
From President of Girard College, Philadelphia, Pa. 
Dear Sir, — I have been interested and instructed 
by the perusal of your national work, for a copy of 
which I am indebted to your courtesy. 

An illustrated history of the various branches of 
industry and art in the United States, jjrepared 
with the ability and truthfulness which character- 



izes this work, will he highly acceptable to all 
classes of readers. In its artistic and mechanical 
execution, nothing has been left to be desired. 1 
am not acquainted with any work in which so 
much reliable information on so great variety of 
subjects may be found in so small a compass. It is 
emphatically a book for the people. 

Yours respectfully, 

William H. Allen. 



No. 5. 

From the President of Genesee College. 
Lima, November 6, 
With as much care as my time would allow, I 
have examined the work published by Mr. Stebbins. 
It contains a large amount of valuable information, 
in jtist the form to be circulated widely among „ha 
)ieople. It is in fact a brief and interesting history 
of our progress as a nation, in both science and tha 
arts. I am willing that my name and influenca 
should aid in its circulation. 

J. MOKRISON BeED. 
I fully concur in the above. 

James L. Alvison, 
Professor in Genesee College. 



No. G. 
From the President of Marietta College, Ohio. 

Dear Sir, — The work on the " Development of the 
United States " was received by mail a few days 
since. I have given what attention I could to it, 
and write you now, as I am expecting to be absent 
from home for some days. 

The examination of this work has given me 
much pleasure. The idea of furnishing this most 
valuable knowledge in a comparatively small com- 
pass, was a most happy one. As a people we want 
information — reliable intbrmation. We need to 
know our own history, in art and science, as well as 
in government. The people of one section should 
know how tliose of others live — the progress of one 
should lie made known to all. 

The idea of the work you have undertaken seems 
to have been well carried out, as well aji ha])i)ily 
conceived. On a great variety of topics, in which 
all the ])eople are interested, you have furnished a 
Large amount of valuable information. All, except 
those of the lowest grade of intelligence, will avail 
themselves of the 0])portinuty to secure this work, 
and, unlike many books, the more it is exam- 
ined the more valuable will it seem. I anticipate 
for it a wide circulation. 



No. 7. 

From the President of the University of Rochester, N. T. 

I have looked over, somewhat hastily, your new 

work. The plan seems to me excellent, the idea of 

presenting in a short compilation the present state 



COMMENDATIONS. 



583 



and rate of progress of the various iiuiustvia! arts 
is one which can not fail to be thought worthy. In 
general, the work seems to be successfully and cor- 
rectly done. 

No. 8. 
From Preaident Read, University of 'U'iseonsia. 
I h.'ivc examined, with a pleasure I can hardly 
express in too strong terms, your new work on the 
United States. During the few days the work luis 
been on my table it has saved me, in the examina- 
tion of facts, labor worth many times tlie cost of 
tlie volume. For the school library, the business 
man, tlie scholar, or the intelligent family, it will be 
found a cyelopiedia presenting, in a most interest- 
ing form, the progress of the various arts of civi- 
lized life during the period of our national exist- 
ence. I most heartily recommend the work. 
Very truly yours, 

Daniel Read. 



describe, but one who, like myself, can recognize 
tlie history of half the period, can testify to the 
faithfulness and fullness of your exhibition of the 
growth and power of this great country. 
Very I'espectfully yours, 

0. r. HUBBAED. 



No. 9. 

From the President of Columbia College, N. Y. 

Sir, — I thank you for the copy of your work 
on the " Progress of the United States," published 
by you. 

ft seems to me of great value as containing 
inlijriiiation of interest, more or less, to all, and 
not easily accessible, except to varied labor and 
research. 

The idea, too, of illustrating national progress, 
not by war, nor annexation, nor diplomatic legerde- 
main" but by the advance in the institutions of 
learning, in useful iriveutions, in the growth of 
manufactures, agriculture, and commerce, in all the 
arts of peace, m morals and civilization, in the 
inner life, so to speak, of the people themselves, 
seems to me both original and founded in the true 
notion of jirogress. 

Your obedient servant, 

C'H. King, 
Pres. of Columbia College. 

Mr. Stebbins. 



No. 12. 

From the President of "Williams* College. 
Dear Sir, — I have no hesitation in saying that 
the work proposed to be done has been well done. 
For those who wish a book of the kind, yours can- 
not fail to be Ihe book. 

Respectfully yours, 

Makk Hopkins. 
Mr. L. Stebbins. 



No. 1.3. 
From Pres. Woolset, Yale College, New Hayen, Conn. 

Yale College, Nov. 1."), 
Mr. L. Stebbins ; Dear Sir, — Your book is a 
good and useful one, but it is not my practice to 
recommend books. 

Y'our obedient serv.ant, 

T. D. Woolset. 

No. 14. 
College of New Jersey, ) 
Princeton, Jan. 28, ) 

Dear Sir : — Your work I regard as a valuable 
publication, richly meriting the attention of the 
general reader, as well as the more careful examin- 
ation of the student interested in observing the 
advancement of our country in the useful arts and 
learning. Very respectfully yours, 

John McLean. 
L. Stebbins, Esq. 



No. 10. 

From the President of Tvifts College. 
Jamtart/ 27, 
Mr. Stebbins : Dear Sir, — I was led to expect 
much from the title of your work, and resolved to 
give it a careful examination. I have been richly 
repaid for the time thus spent, in the great pleas- 
ure and profit I have derived from its perusal. 
Heartily thanking you for this generous contribu- 
tion to generous knowledge, I trust you may reap a 
rich reward for your ciforts. 

John P. AIaeshall. 



No. 11. 

From the President of Dartmouth College. 
January 20, 

L. Stebbins, Esq. : Dear Sir,-^\ received some 
davs ago your very handsome work, but have found 
leisure onlv within a day or two to examine its 
contents. Those persons who have been longest 
on the stage can best appreciate the amazing con- 
trasts in the state of the country which you 



No. 15. 
From Rev. Dr. Smith, Lane Theological Seminary, Ohio. 
Mit. L. Stebbins : Mi/ Dear Sir, — I have run 
my eves with great interest over your beautiful 
work" It contains, in a condensed yet attractive 
Ibrm, a mass of information touching the progress 
and present condition of our country. It is, more- 
over, inlbrmation, of which every man, at some 
lime, feels the need ; and it would be a grand con- 
tribution both to the intelligence and patriotism of 
our whole population, if you could succeed in 
])laeing a copy of it in every family of the land. I 
shall place your book on my table for constant ref- 
erence. 

Wishing you all success in your enterprise, 
I am very truly yours, 
Henry Smith, 
Prof. Ch., Hist, and Sac. Rhetoric. 



No. 16. 

From Profeipor Fom.™, of Amherst College. Editor of the 
Vniversity Edition of Webster's Dictionary, Series of Clas- 
sical Books, etc. 

The work which vou placed in my hands I h.ive 
taken time to examine, in order that I might learn 
its intrinsic value. I find that the subjects selected 
are such, and the manner of treatment such, as to 
sui.nlv a felt want in the public mind, winch, in its 
own pro<'rcss, was demanding higher and better 



584 



COMMENDATIONS. 



help than it ciijovetl before the puMieation of j-our 
work. Tills niijrlit be inferred from the liare men- 
tion of the subjeets and the authors. These sub- 
jects are treated by tliese writers with that correct- 
ness of the statement of the general principles, and 
with that fulness of detail which make the work 
just what it ought to be as a guide to the people. 
Every young man who wishes to elevate his mind 
by self-culture, ought to read this work carefully. 
Yours resijeetfuUy, 

William C. Powlek. 



No. 17. 

From Profes.sor B. SrLLl.M.\N, Yale College, New IlaTen, Ct. 
I have carefully looked through your rich and 
foithfid work, observing the co])ious tal>lcsof con 
tents, glaiicing at every page of the work, and at 
all the numerous illustrations, with occasional 
reading of paragraphs. A more thorough c.xamin 
ation it has not been hitherto in my pcjwer to make ; 
but even this general survey has left on my mind 
the decided conviction that you have performed an 
important service to j'our country in thus mapping 
out and condensing and explaining the wonderful 
progress made in this country, in all the most impor- 
tant arts of life. B. Sillman. 



No. 18. 
From the Secretary of Boanl of Traile, Philadelpliia. 
L. Stebbins, Esq. : Dear Sir, — I examined with 
interest the volume published by you, and found it 
particularly valuable. The design struck me very 
favoraiily, and the execution of the several parts 
could not have been intrusti'd to more competent 
hands. The last one hundred years of the history of 
the United States has been one of unexampled prog- 
ress, and it is now more than ever inijjortant to 
bring in review before the i)eople of every section 
the leading facts of this marvelous progress. 
Very respectfully yours, 

LoRix Blodget. 



No. 19. 
From the Secretary of the Board of Trade, Boston. 

My Dear Sir, — I h.ave found time to acquaint 
myself with the general topics and objects of the 
work, and do not hesitate to declare that I have not 
read nnn-e intei'csting pages for years. Indeed, the 
best intbrracd among us, cannot, as it seems tome, 
foil to find much that is new, while to the young 
and to those who lack the means of research, so 
authentic and well-digested arcount of our coun- 
try's " Progress," will be of immense service. We 
all boast of our wonderful march in commerce, in 
manufactures, in mechanics, and in the arts ; and 
here we have it, step by step, in " facts and figui'es," 
and in brief and pithy narrative. 

With all my he.irt I hope that the sale will be 
extensive, and that you mav be well rewarded for 
your outlay of time and capital. 

Very truly, your friend, 

IjORKSZO S.IBINE. 

L. Stebbins, Esq., Hartford, Cona. 



No. 20. 

From Wm. W. Turver, Prinrip:il of the American Asylum 

for Deaf aod Dumb, Hartford, Coun. 

I have examined your new national work on the 
"United States," and find that the iuformatioa it 



contains on the wide range of sidijects treated of 
must make it cxce^'dingly valuable as a standard 
hook of refcircnce. The names of the writers of 
the dirt'erent articles afford a sulHclent guaranty 
that the facts and statements may be relied on a's 
correct. I consider the work a very important 
accession to this deiiartment (vf literature, and have 
no doubt that it will tind its way into the liljrary of 
every private gentleman and every public institu- 
tion. Very truly yours, 

Wm. W. TnKNER. 



No. 21. 



From John D. Philbricic, Superintendent; Common Schools, 
Massachusetts. 

I have examined your work with great satisfac- 
tion. I consider it a work of great value, and it is 
one which I should lie very unwilling to spare from 
my library. It is not only such a Ijook as the liter- 
ary or professional man woidd like to possess, but 
it is a liook for every household, and for every 
school library. Very truly yours, 

John D. Piiilbkick. 



No. 22. 
From the Secretary of Board of Kduc.ation. 
Boston, Mass., Sc/>t. 6, 

Dear Sir, — I beg leave to thank you for your 
noble work. 

After such an ex.amination as I h.ave been able to 
give, I do not hesitate to pronounce it a work of 
unusital interest and value. 

As a depository of facts illustrative of the prog- 
ress of our country in tbcdeiiartmeiits of industry, 
it is invaluable. 

Its wide circulation, at tills eventful period, can. 
not fail to arou.se and deepen that piatriotic love of 
our institutions which is the jiressing demand of 
the hour. KcspeetfuUy yours, 

J. WllITE. 

L. Stebbins, Esq. 



No. 23. 



From S. S. Easdall, City Superintendent Public Schools, 
New Vorlc. 

Mr. L. Stebbins : Dear Sir, — The great press 
of official engagements has hitherto prevented my 
acknowledgment of the reeeijit of the very In-anti- 
ful and interesting work published by you. I have 
not had time to peruse them thoroughly, but take 
great pleasm-e in stating that, so far as I have 
looked into them, tlie ]dan aiul general execution 
of the work seem to me to 1« admirable, and well 
adapted to the wants, as well of the rising genera- 
tion, as of our fellow-citizens generally. I cheer- 
fully recommend it to the favorable regard of school 
officers, parents, teachers, and others, as a very val- 
uable compend of scientific and historical knowl- 
ilge, and as a work well worthy of a place in every 
school or private library. 



No. 24. 
From R. G.Dana, Mercantile .\gency. New Yorft. 
From a cursory glance at its contents I feci war- 
ranted in saving It possesses information of much 
value and usefulness to all classes. 

Very respectfully, R. G. Dana. 



COMMENDATIONS. 



585 



No. 2.'). 
From B. J. T os>:ng, tlio Historian. 

Sir, — I Iiave cxaniincil, witli great satisfaction 
your work. It is a wovlc of inestimable value to 
those who desire to know, in minute detail, some- 
thing more of the history of tlie country than the 
events of its political and industrial lite as exhib- 
ited in the politician's manual, and the bold state- 
ments of the census; especially at this time, when 
the civilized world is eagerly asking what we are 
and what we have been, that the old governments 
may attempt to solve the more imixjrtant ciuestion, 
to them, what we will lie. Your work, in fact and 
logical prophecy, furnishes an answer of which any 
people may be justly proud. Surely, no nation of 
tlie earth has ever experienced such bounding 
progress as this. No American can peruse your 
pages without feeling grateful for the privilege of 
being an American citizen. 

I will use a very trite phrase and say, with all 
sincerity, I wish your work could go "into everj' 
family in our land," to increase their knowlege and 
to strengthen their patriotism. 

Yours respectfully, 

BliNSON J. Lossixo. 



agriculture, commerce, and trade ; very little that 
develops the material prosperity of a country, and 
marks its growth, has escaped their industrious 
research. Undoubtedly, minute criticism might 
detect slight errors, but in a work of so compre- 
hensive a character, strict accuracy would seem 
almost nnattainalilc. The statistics given arc full 
and clearly arranged ; the grouping of the subjects, 
and the evident method which the authors have 
observed in the accomi)Iishment of their not incon- 
siderable task, are worthy of all praise. The work 
is one whicli wo particularly need, as it is a 
lamentable fact that few people are so deficient in 
general knowledge of facts relative to growth and 
development of their native country, as ours. The 
Englishman generally has an arsenal of statistics 
at his 5ngers' ends; he can tell you when the first 
shaft was sunk in the first mine; when the first 
loom was erected in Manchester. The panojdv of 
facts in which he is arrayed makes him rather a 
ponderous and far from s])rightly comijanion, at 
times ; but tlien he always proves formidable as an 
adversary. Germans, too, have nearly evervthiug 
by rote that relates to their own country. 



No. 26. 
Office of Superiatendent of t'ul>lic Schools, Chicago. 
The work which you have ])repared with so much 
care and labor, presenting the p.-ogress of our 
country, is peculiarly adapted to gratifv and instruct 
all classes of citizens. No work could be offered to 
the public at the present time m(tre worthy of a 
place in family libraries, and school libraries, than 
the one which you now present. 

Yours truly, TV. H. Wklls, 

Sup. of Public Schools. 



No. 27. 

From Isaac Ferris, D. D., Chancellor of the University in 

New York. 

I have looked into the work and am happy to 

unite with the worthy men who have examined it, 

in commending it to my friends. 

New York. Isaac Ferris. 



No. 2S. 
From J. M. Mathews, D. D., Ex-Chancellor of the Univer- 
sity in New York. 
The object of the work is highly commendable ; 
and, so far as I have been able to examine it, has 
been executed with ability aiul fidelity. I freely 
commetid it to public patronage. 

New York. J. JI- JIatiiews. 



No. 29. 
From Prof. E. W, Hosford, of Cambridge University. 
It is a work of very great value for popular ref- 
erence. The articles having been prepared by 
writers who have made specialties of the subjects 
U]X)n which they have written, are, as a consequence, 
eminently attractive. I find them an unfailing 
source of valuable information and important sug- 
gestion. 

No. 30. 
From the New Y'ork Times. 
If at all inclined to doubt that a great deal of 
u.seful information may l)e hound u]i in a compara- 
tively small compass "by a judicious comiiiler, in 
the very handsome work before us, we should find 
sufficient logic to make us devout believers. The 
writers have ranged through the wild fields of 



No. 31. 
From the New Englander, New Haven, Conn. 
In this very large octavo work there is presented 
in a compact and easily accessible form an amount 
of valualile information with regard to the progress 
which the people of the United States have made 
in all the various channels of industry since the 
days wlicn they were British colonists, whicli is not 
to be found in any other single work witli which 
we are acijuainted. Each one of these subjects 
is amjily illustrated with engravings. The ditfcr- 
ent chapters have been prepared by well-known 
literaiT men who have each mailo the subjects 
about which they have written the study of years. 
We have examined the work repeatedly and with 
much care during the past three months, and each 
time have been impressed anew with its value. 
There is not an intelligent fomily in the nation who 
would not be interested and instructed by it, and 
find it a most convenient book of reference with 
regard to everything pertaining to the industrial 
interests of the country. 



No. 32. 

From the Eo.iton Transcript. 
This work is the result of much careful research, 
exercised by many minds on a variety of imjiort- 
ant subjects. They show the industrial and educa- 
tional steps by which the people of the United 
States have risen from their colonial comlition to 
to their present position among the nations of the 
world. They give, in a historical form, the ])rog- 
ress of the country in agriculture, conimi rce, 
trade, banking, manufactures, machinery, modes 
of travel and transportation, and the work is 
intended to he sold by subscription, and will 
doubtless have a large circulation. It ought to be 
in every house in the land. It is more important 
than ordinary histories of the country, as it exhib- 
its all the triumphs of the practical mind and 
energy of the nation, in every department of sci- 
ence, art, and benevolence. It is a storehouse of 
important and stimulating facts, and its interest 
can hardly be exhausted by the most persistent 
reader. 



TABLES OF POPULATION. 



TABLE OF THE POPULATIOX, 
VALUATION OF REAL AND PERSONAL ESTATE, CAPITAL INVESTED IN MANUFACTURES, TRADE, AND COMMERCE IN EACH OF THE 

STATES OP THE UNION. 

r^^*^M., manufacturing capital ; T., capital employed in trade ; C, capital employed in commerce by land and sea. 
The valuations' are generally actual, and not assessment valuation. K not correct, they are from the best data and au- 
thority available. 



Maine 

New Hampshire 

Yermoat 

Massachusetts 

Khode Island 

('onnecticut 

New York 

New Jersey 

Pennsylvania 

Delaware 

Maryland 

Virginia 

"n'est Virginia 

North Carolina 

.South Caroliua 

Georgia 

Florida 

Alabama 

Rlississippi 

Louisiana 

Texas 

Arkansas 

Tennessee 

Kentucky 

Ohio 

Indiana 

Illinois 

Miji.snuri 

Kans:is 

Nebraska 

Iowa 

Michigan 

Wisconsin 

Minnesota 

Nevada 

California 

Oregon 

District of Columbia. 
Territories 



Population by 
census of 
1870. 



Valuation of real 
estate in 1870. 



620,423 
317,710 
3-30,582 
,457,351 
217,3.50 
637,886 
,730,840 
903,044 
,.511,543 
175,015 
790,095 
,211,442 
441,943 
,016,954 
705,789 
,174 836 
183.995 
996,175 
843,056 
731,420 
795,501 
486,103 
,2.58,326 
,323,264 
,675,468 
,668469 
,567,036 
,725,658 
379,49 
116,888 
,181,359 
,184,653 
,0.55,.5Ol 
424,543 

44,686 
656,208 

90,878 
131,701: 
298,3J7 



38,881,231 



L 



V^aluation of per- Capital invested in manufac- 
sonal estate in tures, trade, or commerce, in 
1870. 1870. 



$219,666,.504 
160,315,680 
138,627,143 

1,038,083,415 
2.33,758,000 
312,574 408 

2,632,720,907 
573,000,000 

1,046,732,062 

47 ,.385,614 

308,.891,449 

885,000,000 

98,730,000 

293,837,993 

358,785,191 

386,129,231 

li; 329 10''. 

327..-,i"i.iii"i 

107, (I'll 1. 1 lull 

317,612,583 

298,163,231 

86,297,123 

276,163,137 

329,213,742 

1,607,418,203 
937,201,283 

1,346,587,734 
805,893,166 
69,125,000 
24,160,000 
322 ,.561,061 
387,246,129 

3:o,(Xio,ooi) 

171,1.55.000 
19,360,000 

217,8.55,933 
29,830,117 
83,127,841 
79,184,S:i 



$169,0.37,423 
123,711,143 

85,744,027 
803,0S5,9,S8 

55,433.713 

135,380,760 

2,434,270,278 

278,000,01)0 

346,891,498 

20,185,693 
327,937,008 

85,000,000 

41,000,000 
188,931,290 
219,681,837 
267,825,641 

15,447,630 
125..'ii II 1,1 11)11 

4;i, 3^0.11110 
294,861,247 
159,328,216 
127 ,'^61 ,326 
168,237,191 
271.864 165 
9.59.702,262 
307,130,625 
342,407,041 
497,487,635 

31,285,000 

30,.S95,796! 
171971,191: 
183,284,721 
138,000,000 

29,387,000! 

14,287,0001 
128,725,471 

19,187,323 

49,287,6061 

52,829,613 



M, 


§48,000,000 


M, 


63,.500,tl00 


M, 


37,823,000 


M, 


25O,lX)0,0i.)0 


M, 


45,000,0;)0 


M, 


166.800,(11 10 


C&M, 


3,2(10,000.1100 


■^I, 


135,00(),O(j0 


C & M, 


1,320,000,000 


M. 


16,550,0u0 


.M & C, 


117,600,000 


M & T, 


80.230,000 


C, 


28,000,000 


M, 


15,000 000 


M&T, 


35,500,000 


M & T, 


61,325,0IM 


M & C, 


13,0011,000 


.M & C, 


45,000,000 


M & T, 


21,30il,IX)0 


'', 


48,000,000 


M & T, 


27,480,000 


M & T, 


13,287,010 


M & T, 


79,500.000 


T, 


256,000,000 


*'» 


2,.300,000,000 


U, 


l,4ll(i,li(li),(iiiO 


0, 


2,1)1111. iHiii.MIO 


C &5I, 


l,72;i."(lii.n(0 


T, 


114.000,000 


M, 


(>,60'i,0l.)0 


M&fi, 


325,000,01)0 


C & M, 


387 ,6 12,0 JO 


M, 


32,000,01)) 


M, 


14,831,000 


iM. 


3,925,0 lO 


C & M, 


160 100,000 


M, 


ll,360,0iiO 


M&T 


19,270,000 


M, 


21,362,000 



TABLE OF PRINCIPAL CITIES OF TITS UNITED STATES, 

SHO^^TNG POPIT^-VTION IN ISjO, ISC^, AND 1S70, CAPITAL INVE.STED IX MANUFACTURES, AND AMOUNT OF ANNTJAL PRODUCT IN 

OR NEAR 1870. 



CITIES. 


State. 


Population 
in 1350. 


Population 
in 1860, 


Population 
iu 1870. 


Capit.al invest- 
ed in manu- 
f.ictures in or 
near 1870. 


Annual pro 
duct. 




Maine. 
Nil. 

Vt. 

Mass. 


20,815 

14,432 

3,.-84 

6,095 

8,225 

13,9.32 

6,820 

9,738 

8,576 

8,196 

6,110 

136,881 

33,333 

17.049 

20,2ii4 

15,215 

16,443 

11 ,.524 

11,760 

17,216 

9,572 

10,441 

14,257 

7,7,86 


26,341 
16,407 

' 7,6(i9 
20,109 
10,065 
9,33 . 
10,896 
8..302 
7,713 
177,812 
36,827 
24,960 
22,262 
26,060 
22,300 
14.026 
16,199 
25,063 
13.401 
16.376 
19,083 
10,904 


30,877 
18,296 
13,600 
10,285 

7,811 
23,5.36 
10,643 

9,.305 
12,241 

9,294 
14,387 
250,.52i 
40,923 
41,105 
24.117 
39,a34 
21,321 
26,78; 
26.70 t 
28,323 
13,,595 
18,629 
28,233 
15.389 


§',.500,000 

6,800.000 

0,3 lO.Oi.lu 

3,000,000 

6,000,Ol.K) 

9,640,000 

6,lllO,oOO 

1,500,000 

6,700,000 

3,200,000 

1,725.00(1 

42,000,000 

30,000,1)00 

8,800,000 

3,500,000 

6,000,000 

24,000,000 

13,400,01X1 

8,350,1(00 

7,100.000 

2,750.0IX) 

8,9.50,000 

10,2.50,000 

1,750,0(10 


§13,310,000 




12,OiKI.000 




11.5Oii,0lH) 




7.1100(100 




10.5(l0.'lil0 




19.9711,000 




12,350,01.0 




3,100,1 100 




10.500,000 




6,800.1)1 




4,869,000 




105.000,000 




89.000,0r0 




26.000,0110 




9, 875, OIK) 




14,000,000 




37,000.0110 




29,600,000 




17.284,000 




15.250,000 




6,01W),000 




19.675,0'i0 


Lynn 

Gloucester 


15,1S7,.350 
4,225.000 



TABLES OF POPULATION. ~ 



TAELi: OF PniNCIPAL CITIES OP THE UNITED STATES.— Cost ixued. 



Holyoke 

Lawrrnce. , 

I'roviOt'Uce 

Newport 

NfW Haven. . . . 

Hartford 

Itrid^oport 

Norwich 

Jliiiiiletown 

Nl*w London. . . 

■\\'aterbury 

Meriden 

N'i'W York 

Brooklyn 

Buffalo 

Albany 

llochester 

Syracuse 

Troy 

Yonkers , 

Oswego 

Hudson 

Utica 

Biuphamton . . . 

Morrisania 

PouglikcL'psie .. 

Cohoes 

IVcwburgh 

Klmira 

Lockport 

Schenectady. . . 

Auburn 

Ogdensburg. . . . 

Newark 

Jersey City. . .. 

Elizabeth 

Paterson 

Uoboken 

Ilahway , 

Trenton 

Kew Brunswick, 

tannleii 

Hudson City. . . 
Philadelpliia. . . 

Pittsburgh 

Alleghany City. 

Ecranton 

Beading 

Harrisburg 

Erie 

Lancaster 

Wilmington.. . . 

Baltimore 

Cumberland . . . 

Frederick 

Washington.. .. 
Georgetown. . . . 

Kichmond 

Alexandria . . . . , 

Isorfolk 

Portsmouth . . . 

Petersburg 

Lynchburg 

"Wheeling 

Wilmington.. . , 

Kaleigh 

Jsew-Berne 

Charleston 

Columbia 

Savannah 

Atlanta 

Augusta 

Kev West 

Mobile 

Blontgomery. . . 

Natchez 

Vicksburg 

New Orleans. . . 
OaWe:?ton . . . .. 

Little Rock 

^leniphis 

Noshviile 

lInoT\-iUe 



State. 


Population 
in I860. 


Population 
io ISliO. 


Population 
in 1870. 


capital invest- 
ed in manu- 
facturesinor 
near 1870. 


Annual pro- 
duct. 


Mass. 


3,245 




11,000 


$7,186,000 


?13,267,000 


" 


8.28:i 




28,921 


20,000,000 


35,000.001) 


R. I 


41,513 


i)O,0G6 


68,906 


11,837,645 


33,090,994 




9,5G3 


10,508 


12,521 


1,500,000 


3,275,000 


Conn. 


20,345 


39,267 


60,840 


12,715,00C 


32,000,000 


" 


13,555 


29,154 


37,180 


13,500,000 


31,300,000 




7,0C0 


13,555 


10,876 


6,125.000 


17,500,000 


" 


10,265 


14,048 


10,653 


7,076,000 


18.250,000 


" 


4,211 




11,143 


1,77.5,000 


4,000,000 


" 


8,991 


ib,ii5 


9.576 


2,500,000 


4,866.000 




6,137 




10 826 


8.125,000 


19,385,000 


" 


3,559 




10,521 


2,734,000 


8,600,000 


N. Y'. 


515,547 


805,651 


942,310 


179.525,000 


486.125,000 


" 


9(],S3S 


206,601 


S00.300 


65,.5OO,(X)0 


140,225,000 


'* 


42,261 


81,129 


117,715 


27,905,000 


62,836,000 


*• 


60,7G3 


02 .307 


69,412 


18,250,001] 


41.375,000 


u 


36,403 


48,204 


62,3S5 


15,000,000 


28,000 000 




22,271 


2^,119 


43,058 


11,871,50C 


29,627,000 


" 


28,785 


39,232 


46,471 


9,000,OOC 


20,000,000 


" 


4,l!j0 


11,843 


18,.318 


1,250,00C 


3,100,000 


" 


12,2.35 


16,817 


20,910 


5,108,OOC 


13,137,000 


" 


6,286 


9,283 


14,1.35 


],125,fJ0C 


2,760,000 


*' 


17,5135 


22,529 


28,804 


6,225,00r 


14,801,000 


*' 


5,000 


8, .325 


12,862 


2,726,00C 


5,895,000 


" 


, 


9,245 


19,637 


3,184,00C 


7,196,000 


" 


13,9M 


11,723 


20,030 


4,9.32,00C 


10,287,000 


" 


4.223 


7,020 


15,357 


6,560,000 


11,250,000 


" 


11,415 


15,198 


17,014 


3,725,000 


7,810,000 


" 


8,1G3 


8,882 


15,863 


6,817,00C 


14,271,000 


*' 


10,327 


13,533 


li,463 


2,105,00C 


5,125,000 


" 


8,021 


9,579 


11,026 


l,126,OfX 


2,789,000 


" 


9,D48 


10,986 


17,225 


5,075,00C 


12,173,000 


" 


6,500 


7,409 


10,076 


3,187,500 


7,785,000 


N. J. 


38,891 


71,914 


105,078 


25,600,000 


63,623,000 


*' 


C,35S 


29,226 


82,102 


18,650,000 


35,760,000 


" 


6,583 


10,000 


20,383 


1,725,000 


2,850,000 


*' 


11,334 


19,583 


33,512 


17,150,000 


38,.525,000 


" 


2,638 


9,662 


20,234 


3,360,fKXl 


8,200,000 


" 


3,306 


4,785 


6,016 


550,000 


1,050.0IX) 


" 


6,461 


17,228 


22,115 


V,180,0(K1 


15,125.000 


IC 


10,019 


12,1.W 


15,059 


2,785,000 


6,S75,aH) 


" 


9,479 


11,207 


20,046 


6,660,000 


12,175,000 


** 







18,000 


460,000 


1,750,000 


Pa. 


340,045 


502,529 


674,022 


178.000,000 


495,000,000 


'' 


46,001 


49.217 


86,235 


69,250,000 


141,500,000 


" 


21,201 


28,702 


63.181 


21.300,000 


64,380,000 


« 




9,223 


85,093 


2,917,000 


6,285,000 


" 


15,743 


23,101 


a3,932 


9,755,000 


33,124,000 


" 


7,83t 


13,405 


2/3,109 


6,125,000 


13,250,000 


" 


6,858 


9,419 


20,600 


1,. 500 ,000 


4,fMI,000 


" 


12,309 


17,603 


20,233 


3,900,000 


9,728,000 


Del. 


13,979 


25,508 


30,841 


11,500,000 


13,000,000 


Md. 


169,054 


212,418 


267,354 


27,480,000 


79,169,000 


•' 


6,073 




11,600 


400,0OC 


2,.500,000 


" 


6,028 


8,143 


10,130 


875,000 


2,100,1X10 


D. C. 


40,001 


61,122 


109,294 


3,150,000 


10,287,000 


" 


8,306 


8,733 


12,412 


1,000,OOC 


2,650,000 


Ya. 


27,570 


87,910 


61,038 


2,100,000 


6,183,000 


" 


8,734 


12,052 


13,670 


S,125,00C 


8,749,500 


" 


14,326 


15,611 


19,256 


2,087,500 


6,964,260 


** 


8,122 


9,502 


12,678 


1,499.35C 


3,748,140 


" 


14,010 


18,206 


14,128 


600,000 


l,150,n00 


" 


8,071 


6,853 


7, .519 


350,0OC 


976,600 


W. Ya. 


11,43.5 


14,0.S3 


]9,';82 


6,150,28C 


14,297,340 


N. C. 


7,264 


9,.W2 


13,405 


975,00C 


2,500,000 


«' 


4,.518 


4,780 


10,146 


400,00C 


1,100,000 


" 


4,681 


6,4.32 


4,990 


250,000 


725,000 


S. C. 


42,985 


40,.522 


4'^,956 


1,3.50,000 


8,950,000 


" 


6,060 


8,059 


10.139 


1,015,260 


2,416,980 


Ga. 


15,312 


22,292 


20,233 


600,000 


1,100,000 


" 


2,572 


9,.5&4 


16,988 


1,326,000 


3,146,000 


" 


11,75.3 


12,493 


14,197 


675,00C 


1,497,500 


Fla. 


1,943 


2,832 


6,510 


850,00{ 


1,328,500 


Ala. 


20,.515 


29,2.58 


32,084 


3,618,00( 


9,145,320 




4,935 


8,84a 


13,065 


.500,000 


3,000,000 


Misa. 


4,431 


6,612 


9,123 


275,000 


785,300 


" 


3,676 


4,.59] 


8,953 


729.00( 


1,541,870 


La. 


116,375 


168,675 


191,322 


19,7oO,00( 


68,.560,000 


Texas. 


4,177 


7,307 


13,818 


860,00( 


2,100,000 


Ark. 


2,107 


3,727 


13,380 


mo,m 


850,000 


Tenn. 


8,83£ 


22,62; 


40,226 


1,639 ,00( 


3,741,600 




10,47f 


1(!,98S 


26.872 


1,171,45( 


2,703,621 


ti 


3,600 


6,000 


9,000 


600,000 


9.80,000 



TABLES OF rOrUL.VTION. 



T^VBLE OF TKINCIPAL CITIES OF THE UNITED STATES.— Coxtinded. 



Louisville 

Coviugtan 

Lexiuf^ton 

St. Louia. 

Kansas City.. . 
St. Josepli. . . . 

Hannibal 

Leavenworth. . 

Topeka 

Omaha 

Davenport .... 

Dubuque 

Des Moines.. . . 

Keokuk 

Jluscatine 

Council Bluffs. 
Burliuf^tou . . . . 

Chicago 

Peoria 

Quincy 

Sprinj^field. . . . 

Alton 

Galena 

Pekin 

Rock Island.. . 

Cairo 

Indianapolis . . 

Evansville 

Terre Haute.. . . 
Fort Wayne.. . 
New Albany. . . 

Lafayette 

Madison 

Richmond .... 

Logansport 

Cincinnati 

Cleveland 

Toledo 

Columbus 

Dayton 

Sandusky 

Springfield 

Hamilton 

Portsmouth. . . . 
Steubi-nv'lie . . . 

Zanesville 

Akron 

Detroit 

(Jrand KapiJs. . 

Jackson 

Kalam izoo . . , . 
Ea^f .Saginaw.. . 

Ailriau 

MilwauUie 

JIadisnn 

Oshkosli 

Superior City. . 
Fond du Lac. . . 

(ireen liay 

Jtacine 

Janesville 

St. P.ml 

^Vinona 

St. .\ntbony . . . 
^Minneapolis. . . . 

Denver 

Cheyenne 

Salt" Lake City.. 
Carson City ... . 
Virginia City. . . 
San Fr.ancisco. . 
S.ieramento .. . . 

Stockton 

Oikl.and 

Portland 

Stcilacoom 

Olympia 

Santa Fe 

Tucson 

Boise City 

Helena 

A"irginia City. . . 
Yanckton 



State. 



Ky. 
Mo. 

Kan. 

Neb. 
Iowa. 

\l 
111. 



Chi 



Minn. 



Col. 

Wvouiing. 

I'tah. 

Nov. 

Cal. 



Oregon . 
Wasli. T. 

New Mcx. 
-Vrizona T. 

Idaho. 
Montana. 



Dakota. 



Population 
in ISM. 



43,104 

a, 41 13 

9,130 
77,StiO 
600 
6,000 
2,020 



1.848 
3,108 
986 
2,478 
2..540 
2,000 
4,082 

29,903 
5,095 
6,902 

11,706 
S,5S5 
6.004 
1,678 
1,711 
242 
8,034 
a,2.3.j 
4,0.'.l 
4,282 



1,215 

8,012 

1.+13 

3.500 

11.5,431 

17,034 

3.823 

17,S.s2 

10,970 

10,000 

7,314 

3.210 

4,011 

6,144 

7,029 

21^010 
3,1! 
4,1! 
S,2S4 
600 
S.nK 

2ll,0:;l 
3,400 
2,600 



Population 
in ISoO. 



2,01-; 
1,923 
5,107 
3.4,-1 
1,338 



656 



34,776 
12,000 
3.000 



4,846 



68,0,33 
10,471 
9,r,21 

160,7" 
4.418 
8,932 
6,505 
7,429 
759 
1,SS3 

11,2a' 

13,000 

3,936 

8,136 

6, 

2,011 

6,708 

109,260 

14,045 

13,682 

16.199 

7,.3a8 

8,193 

3,46" 

5,130 

2,188 

18.611 

11,484 

8 601 

10,388 

12,134 

9,38 

9,068 

6,603 

2,979 

161,044 

43,41" 

13,790 

18,092 

20,081 

0.316 

7,00' 

7,22- 

6,27; 

C.16 

9;232 

3, .520 

46,619 

8,0:i6 

4, TOO 

6,070 

3.i»l 

6,213 

45,24a 

6,611 

6,086 

f.34 

P.4-,0 

2.2 ,^ 

7.s:2 

7-7C3 

iii,.;oi 

2,464 
3,258 
2,664 
4,749 



Population 
in 1870. 



8,236 
714 
2,345 
56,802 
13,785 
3,679 
1,543 
2,874 



4.6,36 
1,034 



458 1 



100,754 
24,506 
10.121 
312,903 
32,302 
19 692 
10,120 
17,.349 
8,700 
16.033 
20,042 
18,084 
12,379 
12,764 
10.178 
10.974 
12,0.34 
298,983 
25,787 
24,053 
17,366 
10.:353 
10,030 
9,310 
7,896 
8,207 
41.603 
21,830 
17,105 
17 756 
16.20; 
14.312 
10,7tl9 
9,4-13 
8.950 
218,900 
93,918 
31,692 
31,336 
3' I, .86: 
14..523 
12:655 
11.105 
10,522 
10,207 
10,013 

10.010 

79,683 

16,50; 

11,448 

9.1,^0 

11,319 

8,448 

V1,K9 

lo.iW 

1'-, 

1.100 

12. 

4.660 

9,S.S0 

8,701 

20,645 

10.000 

0,000 

15,000 

9,.500 

4,500 

24 ,,500 

4,875 

7,008 

158,361 

16.434 

3,825 

6,740 

8,293 

3,800 

1,.500 

6,600 

8,000 

4,800 

8,900 

3,700 

5,800 



Capital invest 




ed in macu 


Annual pro- 


factures in or 


duct. 


near 1870: 




§16,313.000 


S40,o:n.745 


4,296,.5« 


10 ^_",.;";a 


600,001 


l.Vj:..n(iO 


48,387.151 


10'.i,513.Sj5() 


3,174,125 


8 125.460 


1,676,323 


4,1 '75,425 


1,000.000 


2.3 T.nliO 


1,800,000 


S.27i.i.Oi,0 


400,000 


9uO,Uua 


1,300,000 


3.600,000 


2,425,0{R 


3. V 9 1.000 


1,470.UO{ 


3.]nMlo(l 


925.00( 


Or.- ; n,i) 


850,00( 


l.'.'7'.i"0 


1.126,00( 


2.,>-.-'l 


1,050,001 


2 ;i .". :l ) 


60,000,000 


176.^' ■-. '> 


4,105,000 


ll,1:'i;.;j-5 


3.072,50C 


8.7411,-110 


1,OS0..300 


3.018,501) 


l,147.Glf 


2,.'*3I,450 


2,261,419 


4,sl,3,2-'3 


1,743.20C 


3.s;7.250 


1,864,325 


3.9S7,420 


l.-10o,(i(t(. 


2,903,2:0 


4,1.50.601 


11 205.350 


2,745,20( 


7,189,150 


1,993,551. 


4,185,240 


1,871.00[ 


4.6'22,1;0 


2,343,751 


4.91'i.2L5 


820,001: 


2,0O:;,150 


l,361,O0C 


3,108,270 


2,628.133 


5.^15,281 


1,931,822 


3.904,lf-'j 


58,340,6.86 


1,59,270,049 


44,000,001 


127,375,600 


6.260,00C 


14,128.609 


8,326,000 


19 ,.375.000 


6,240,325 


14,371,223 


2,116,687 


4.962,180 


3,000,000 


6,200,000 


4,128,575 


12,O0i;,155 


1,817,340 


43U.285 


2,106,1.50 


5,2lo,'.'C5 


2,819,325 


6,173,121 


2.587,640 


6,031.240 


18.360,000 


62,185,000 


2.725,000 


5,918.0W 


l,976,.5:«i 


4,128.000 


1.752,01)0 


3,710,500 


2,568,090 


7o01,(in0 


l,843,.50O 


4,103,000 


11,275,000 


28,645,000 


2,193,780 


4,285,000 


650,000 


1,384,000 


425,000 


894,000 


879,000 


2.185.000 


1,312,2.50 


3,l.^ii,iii<) 


250,000 


722,(1(10 


575,600 


1. '07.833 


1,625,000 


S.V^Ojm 


850,000 


l,795,(i(.iO 


550,000 


1,600,000 


1,600,000 


4,2.80,000 


200,000 


450,000 


450,000 


b()O.()00 


28,600.000 


71. 450,1 no 


1,246,000 


3,7SO,(i(lO 


250,000 


7(10,(1":) 


270,000 


800,(1(10 


1,293,000 


2,752,(lfK3 


121,500 


306,000 


60.000 


150,000 


110,000 


28(J,(li(0 


160.000 


470,000 


185,000 


600.000 


370,000 


809.000 


926,000 


2,.500,0fl0 


225,000 


660,000 



in.,k'Q4 



TABLES OF POPULATIOX. 



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Note.— The year 1845 and the periods earlier than 1790 are taken from State enumerations, and from other sources 
of informiition. 

• Population of the settlement. 

t .=tate census of 18.52. , ,...,,.. 

t Errors were m.idc in Boston and Now Orlcnns in 1840, undcrestiraatinor the population in the first city, as proved 
bv Mr. Shaltuck, to the extent of about 8,000 ; and overestiiaating it in New Orleans, as proved by Dr. Barton, by at least 
10 300 or 15,000. 



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^"^■^^ INDIANA 



rV7^ N MANCHESTER. 

~=5^<^ INDIANA J; p.' 



